New Release Spotlight: Dear Heart, I Hate You by J. Sterling

Release Week Blitz for J. Sterling’s DEAR HEART, I HATE YOU releasing May 9, 2016!

A standalone contemporary romance, DEAR HEART, I HATE YOU takes the reader on a journey of love at first site and fostering a new love from afar, as well as the joys and trials that go along with it.

About DEAR HEART, I HATE YOU:

I didn’t plan on him.

Or for him.

Or anything that had to do with Cal Donovan from Boston.

Meeting him had been a complete and utter surprise, taking me one hundred percent off guard. I met new people every single day in my line of work and none of them affected me. Wasn’t that the way of things though? You could meet a thousand people and they’d all mean nothing to you. But then you’d meet that one and they suddenly meant everything.

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JULES POV

I didn’t plan on him. Or for him.

Or anything that had to do with Cal Donovan from Boston.

Meeting him was a surprise, taking me one hundred percent completely off-guard. I met new people every day in my line of work, and none of them affected me. Wasn’t that the way of things, though? You could meet a thousand people and none of them would mean anything to you, but then you’d meet one, and suddenly they meant everything.

I was a self-professed workaholic, so everyone in my life knew I didn’t date. It wasn’t entirely intentional on my part; I just didn’t make men a priority at this point in my life. But that wasn’t to say that if I met someone who intrigued me, I wouldn’t give it a shot. Because I absolutely would. But therein lay the rub—very few guys sparked my interest and managed to hold it.

And that was perfectly fine with me. Work came first, and I wasn’t about to apologize for that or feel bad about it. Not even to my ex-boyfriend Brandon, when he broke up with me over two years ago because I spent too much time at the office, and he felt I should have been focusing at least a smidgeon of my time and attention on him.

He had played the role of the supportive boyfriend at first, telling me how proud he was of my ambition and accomplishments. But all the while, his resentment secretly brewed until it exploded from him one night as we sat in his living room. To say I’d been taken off-guard and shocked by his anger would be an understatement. I had no idea he’d grown so spiteful.

Brandon hadn’t been entirely wrong in his frustrations, but even his leaving didn’t make me want to change my priorities. All I’d felt when he was breaking up with me, delivering a speech he’d clearly practiced more than once, was a sense of relief. My heart leaped at the idea of focusing on my career without taking anyone else’s desires or feelings into consideration. Oh, the freedom I looked forward to experiencing and the complete absence of guilt.

Yes, that might sound harsh, but I wanted to build a name for myself in the high-end real estate market, and I couldn’t do that by dividing my time. Or maybe I could have. The point was that I didn’t want to, and Brandon reminded me of that.

Besides, when did making yourself your number one priority become such a horrible thing? Men focused on their careers all the time, and that was completely acceptable. But not for a woman; not for me. I learned fairly quickly after the Brandon breakup that men didn’t like being second on a woman’s priority list. And they seemed to be intimidated by a motivated female, calling me things like hard to handle, challenging, and difficult.

The end result was that being single seemed to work best for me, and I had no plans to change my relationship status anytime soon.

Then I met Cal.

And he fucking ruined everything.

About J. Sterling:

I got fired from my last job. 

It's true. 

I know you're sitting there thinking, "Jenn, how could anyone in their right mind fire someone like you?" And I'd love to give you a good reason, but the truth is that sometimes being all sorts of awesome isn't fun for other people. They don't always tend to like it. lol 

So I picked my pride off the floor, bought a laptop and started writing my first book. And you know what I realized? Writing stories that meant something to me was a million times better than working my ass off for someone who didn't really care about anything other than the bottom line. 

My soul has never felt more satisfied. 

My heart has never been more full.

I've never worked so hard in my life, but I love every second of it. I truly do.

It is SO worth it. 

All of it. 

Every moment.

The journey it took to get to this point- I wouldn't change a thing.

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Spotlight: Naked Truth by M.D. Saperstein

Naked Truth

By: M.D. Saperstein

Released April 18, 2016
Self Published

Violet

I knew at a very young age that I wasn't normal. I may look normal. I may act normal. But I am not normal, not in the head at least. Wait, that sounds bad.

When I started kindergarten, I was able to pick out all 50 states on a map. By first grade, I knew all of the names of all of the students and teachers in my entire school. My dad and I always watched football on TV together. When I turned seven, he took me to my first Miami Dolphins game. I started calling the plays even before they were made. And by the time I was 10, I could tell you what happened on any day of my life without thought. I had total recall, no hesitation, no conscious thought.

I’m not autistic. I’m not a savant or a genius. It’s more than a case of photographic memory. In fact, I don’t memorize anything. I have Hyperthymesia. Plain and simple: If I live it, hear it, or see it – I remember it. No exceptions.

Pike

 I knew at a very young age that I wanted to be a cop. Not just any cop, but a detective. Chasing bad guys and taking down mobsters. But like my good buddy, Mick, says, “You can’t always get want you want.”

So instead of arresting criminals and keeping the streets safe, I am dancing in a dingy club, making a living shaking my ass and pulling dollar bills out of my crack. Not the life I grew up wanting to lead. Not what I expected or hoped for myself.

But maybe if I wait it out. If I hang tight, it will all be worth it in the end. I will get what I came for and move on. I will earn my future and pave my own way. What is that he says? “If you try sometimes…you get what you need.” From your lips to God’s ears, Mick.

**STANDALONE. No Cliffhanger! Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is recommended for readers over the age of 18.**

Link to Follow Tour: HERE

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I turn to get into my car and I can feel Jordan at my back.  He’s so close, I can feel his body heat. It’s clear that he doesn’t want this night to end as much as I don’t.  I’m dying for him to kiss me dirty, but I know when the time is right it’s going to be magical. I slide into the driver’s seat and he leans in for one last kiss.  This time on my cheek.  He’s getting closer! He stands back up and starts to back away, hands in surrender.

“You better go before I lose control.  I’m barely holding on here, Violet.”

I smile.  Just his admission is enough.  But then I see his hand trying to discreetly adjust himself, and now I know my earlier thoughts were correct.  I’m scandalized and pleased at the same time. Knowing - seeing proof - that he is turned on because of me, lights my body on fire, and my panties are suddenly very wet.

“Goo…Good night!”  I say one last time, stumbling over my words and too embarrassed by my body’s reaction to make eye contact.  I really need to go before I do or say something stupid. 

“Soon, sweetheart,” is the last thing I hear from his lips, and I spend the night wondering what exactly he is promising.

Hi! My name is M.D. Saperstein. I am currently a stay at home mom with my two gorgeous kids. I wasn't always a full time mom, though. After graduating from the University of Florida - Go Gators! - I attended law school at Stetson University. I spent the next 10 years practicing law. I also spent some time counseling mental health patients in an outpatient psychiatric hospital. But, until having my own children, my most rewarding job by far was licensing families to receive abused and neglected foster children. 

So, that brings us to today. In my spare time, while my children were napping, I started editing novels for other authors. The more I edited, the more ready I felt to write my own. I just needed a new and exciting story line. Once Hey There, Delilah was conceived, the ball starting rolling very quickly. I hooked up with fellow author Andria Large, and we decided to tackle it together. Best decision ever!

I spend most of my free time with my husband and children. But when I get some "me" time, I love to read. Mostly romance and erotica, but I don't discriminate - a good book is a good book, no matter the genre.

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New Release Spotlight: Pushing Her Luck by Audra North

Pushing Her Luck
Lucky in Love #1

By: Audra North

Releasing May 9, 2016
Self-Published

Pushing her Luck

Lucky In Love Series

He says she’s a nuisance. She thinks he’s a jerk. Together they might be the perfect match.

Riordan Faraday is about to reach his breaking point. He’s got art classes to teach, a needy mum to care for, and most importantly, a painting to finish. But without time or inspiration, he hasn’t been able to paint a thing and it’s driving him mad. So when a silly American girl shows up on his doorstep with a wild proposal, he shoots her down perhaps a bit more harshly than she deserves…but it’s for the best. He can’t afford any more distractions at the moment, especially not beautiful brown-eyed ones.

Samantha Meyer—Sam, to her friends—is on a mission to find her late grandmother’s necklace. The long-lost piece of jewelry is the only thing she has left of Gram and Sam is determined to see that dream fulfilled before she returns home to New Jersey and takes up the reins of the family business. But she wasn’t counting on a sexy, surly painter to stand in her way.

Link to Follow Blast: Here

Bing bing!

Riordan set down the palette with a growl. Even if he hadn’t already had a morning from hell, that goddamn doorbell would be much too cheerful-sounding. He made a mental note to get it changed, grabbed a rag from the easel, and stole one last irritated glance at the blank canvas in front of him.

Bing bing!

“Piss off,” he muttered under his breath. But, then, louder—

“Yes, I’m coming!”

He swiped the rag at the oil paint on his fingers as he walked toward the front door of his small cottage, but cleaning it off was nearly impossible without turpentine. Christ. He’d managed to paint absolutely nothing since February, yet here he was, about to answer the door to God knows whom with the stuff all over his hands simply from holding the palette.

It made him feel like a fraud.

Though, really, the person at the door was probably just Mum, coming ‘round again on his day off, in spite of him telling her time and again that he needed to get these paintings done and would it be really be such a lot of trouble to let him alone from time to time?

Of course, there was also the once-a-year chance that it was the mother of one of his students, dropping by to suggest a much more thorough and intimate parent-teacher conference with him. He was the grade school art teacher, for shit’s sake. Whoever needed a parent-teacher conference over tempera paint and tissue paper collages?

Except…no, it couldn’t be one of those ladies, since Frank McEvoy’s mum had already been by to try her hand at seducing Riordan this year, back in March. Riordan shuddered at the memory and prayed that this visit would not double the average annual number of inappropriate advances made on him by married women.

He slid the bolt back. Turned the knob. Slowly pulled the door open…

“Hi!” A pretty young woman stood on the other side, practically bouncing on her toes and grinning at him like he was supposed to have half a clue who she was. Wait. Oh God. Was he supposed to know?  

He took a second to study her.

Long, strawberry blond hair gathered back in a ponytail that swayed back and forth as she bounced. Medium height. Young. Maybe twenty four? Twenty five? Though her apparent youth might simply be due to her being so chipper and wide-eyed. Wide brown eyes—

Hmm, interesting. A ginger with brown eyes. Not a combination he’d been expecting, but the effect was striking. In fact, he revised his earlier judgment. She wasn’t pretty. She was quite pretty.

Though a tad bit exuberant for his taste.

Before he could so much as open his mouth to inform her that he had no idea who she was, she spoke again.

“I’m Samantha Meyer. I’m from America. Which you can probably tell from my accent.” For some reason, she pointed to her mouth, which he supposed was to indicate the aforementioned atrocious American accent, but the motion had the added effect of calling attention to her rather plump, sweet lips. He found himself fighting the urge to subtly flex his arm muscles in a correspondent display.

“I mean, I don’t think I have an accent. But I guess I do, for you. Since we’re in Ireland and all. Anyway, nice to meet you.”

Were all Americans like this? The ones he saw on the telly didn’t seem half as daft. But then she blinked oddly, and it took him a second that she was holding out her hand, waiting for him to take it.

Never let it be said that the Irish aren’t a hospitable lot.

Slowly, he extended his own hand to meet hers, fingers curling around her small palm. Her skin was warm and her grip was firm, and for a brief moment, a shudder of arousal went through him at the contact.

He still hadn’t said a word.

“Oh, check that out!” She was staring down at their joined hands.

What was she on about now?

“You have paint on your hands. Are you a painter? I mean, an artist painter. Not a house painter. Though that’s cool, too! I’m not trying to say that’s a bad thing. I’m just curious because I used to want to be an artist painter but I really can’t even draw to save my life.”

Good God. How was it possible for a person to natter on so?

“I even failed art in fifth grade. I don’t know if you remember fifth grade, but it’s really, really hard to fail art when you’re that age.”

She looked up at him, and it took a few beats of silence before he realized that she was finally, finally giving him a chance to reply.

“Impossible, in fact,” he snapped.

Her face fell, and she jerked her hand from his, looking stunned.

Shit. He hadn’t intended to hurt her.

Perhaps, if the muses had been a bit more charitable toward him this morning, he might have at least been polite. Possibly, if he hadn’t checked his e-mail immediately upon wakening and read that fantastically enraging message from Michael, he might have sent her on her way with a half-smile and a Have a good morning, then.

But as it was, this…American—who wasn’t his mother, who wasn’t offering him sex, and who seemed to be completely ignorant of the fact that one doesn’t go calling at half seven in the morning—had come to his home and interrupted his painting (fine, his attempt at painting) for no other purpose, it seemed, than to spout utter nonsense about accents and house painters.

Though she was quite pretty.

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Audra North is the contemporary romance author of the Pushing the Boundaries series from Samhain and the Hard Driving series from St. Martin’s. Sign up for Audra North’s newsletter to get free books, extra scenes, and exclusive subscriber giveaways. You can also connect with Audra on her website, AudraNorth.com, on Facebook, and on Twitter.

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