Showing posts with label Tasty Book Tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tasty Book Tours. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Review Stop on the Tasty Virtual Book Tour for FINAL EXIT by Lena Diaz with #Excerpt + #Giveaway

Welcome to my stop on the Tasty Virtual Book Tour for FINAL EXIT by Lena Diaz. The Exit Inc. series by Lena Diaz has been an amazing thrill ride filled with action, intrigue, and steamy tension between characters, which have more than love to worry about - they’re usually running for their lives too. FINAL EXIT, Lena’s newest installment, and the last of the three book spin-off series, is no disappointment even though I’m very sad to see this series end.

***eARC provided by publisher via Edelweiss in exchange for an honest and unscripted review.

Blurb for FINAL EXIT:

Lena Diaz concludes her sexy, suspenseful EXIT Inc. series as an FBI agent teams up with a beautiful assassin to uncover a deadly government conspiracy...

After a tragic mistake nearly destroyed his life, Special Agent Kade Quinn will do whatever it takes to save his career. His latest mission? Track and capture the remaining EXIT operatives to determine if they’re still a threat. But his next target—a stunning female assassin—is both elusive and dangerously appealing.

Bailey Stark has outsmarted the FBI so far, but she’s tired of running. Tired of watching her friends ambushed by government agents in tactical gear and never seen again. She suspects they aren’t being evaluated—they’re being exterminated—and she’s determined to convince Agent Quinn his mission is a lie before it’s too late. Bailey doesn’t want to rely on him. She definitely shouldn’t desire him. But she knows teaming up with the skilled, sexy agent may be her only hope.

Kade doesn’t want to believe Bailey’s claims, but he promises to keep her safe. Trusting one another is difficult. Fighting their attraction is harder. And as they uncover the disturbing truth behind his mission . . . staying alive will be nearly impossible.

Available now from Avon Romance


MY REVIEW:

    Bailey Stark is on the run. She’s worried about her fellow Enforcers and she trusts no one. She knows the man they refer to as the Ghost is tracking her and he almost got her once, so now it’s time for her to take action and get to him before he captures and kills her. The last thing she expects is to discover that Kade Quinn is an honorable FBI agent who truly believes in what he’s doing. Only, what he thinks is happening is all a lie. Her attraction to him causes her for the first time in her life as an assassin to want to protect someone other than herself.
    Kade Quinn knows he has the skill to catch Bailey but she continuously eludes him even while she fascinates him. Determined to prove himself capable of succeeding in his mission to round up the remaining Enforcers so they might be retrained to run normal lives, discovering that what he’s been told is happening might not be true is enough to make him question everything - including his attraction to Bailey.
    Together, Bailey and Kade try to discover what the truth is, who is behind it, and when the Equalizers pull them into their fold, know they now have more to worry about than just themselves. Time is running out even as secrets begin to unfold and the danger level increases.
    FINAL EXIT by Lena Diaz is everything I expected from a book in this series. Action-packed, filled with intrigue, deception, and steamy sexual tension. With every turn of the page, FINAL EXIT treats us to so much more going on than just Enforcers and Equalizers versus the FBI and those behind EXIT Inc. and its secrets. Lena has woven a story where you’re always wondering exactly who the bad guys are and how Bailey, Kade, and the Equalizers will manage to survive it all.
    If you have read the series from the beginning, you will recognize most of the characters and enjoy their interactions with Bailey and Kade. If you haven’t read this series, I seriously recommend starting at the beginning and experiencing each amazing story which culminates wonderfully in FINAL EXIT. Whereas each story can be read as a standalone, they truly work best read in order and allow the action and backstory to pull you through to the climactic end. I am very much going to miss these characters and the intrigue.
    I highly recommend FINAL EXIT, book three of the Exit, Inc. series by Lena Diaz to everyone who loves a good action-filled, intrigue-driven romantic suspense thriller with great characters and tons of creative energy.

Happy Reading Everyone!

EXCERPT from FINAL EXIT:

Friday, 11:55 p.m.
   It was a perfect night to catch a killer. A warm breeze blew out of the south at about six miles per hour. Rain-heavy clouds covered the half-moon, plunging the cliff where Special Agent Kade Quinn stood into darkness. He was betting on the old cliché, third time’s a charm. And also betting on the numbers—that his six, shiny new special agents could take down one highly skilled, remarkably cunning, experienced assassin.
   Not the kind of odds to go to Vegas over. But he had to work with what he had. If things went as planned, Bailey Stark would soon be in custody like the dozens of other EXIT Inc. Enforcers that his team had managed to capture. The now-defunct company could never again fool the public into believing that all it did was offer vacation packages, so-called “EXtreme International Tours.” The clandestine organization’s true legacy as a corrupt front for government-sanctioned murder would end with the capture of the last few Enforcers. By the time his mission was over, every last one functioning members of society.
   And innocents like Abby would never again become the victims of killers like Bailey.
   Between the nightmare of his wife’s death and the near-constant ache in his ruined left leg, Kade had his own, very personal, debt with EXIT. And he planned on collecting. He scanned the tree line. Past the red oak and Ponderosa pines, the Colorado Rockies squatted like dark sentinels watching over tonight’s operation. Below him, in the middle of a wide, nearly treeless valley, was ground zero, the two-story cottage that Bailey believed would be her sanctuary. Instead, it would become her last stand. A quarter-mile-long driveway connected a two-lane highway to this remote property. At close to midnight and an hour’s drive from Boulder, the road was essentially deserted. Kade couldn’t have asked for a better place to launch an ambush. And if his intel was correct, Bailey should arrive within the next half hour.
   Only a few minutes later the two-way radio on his belt crackled to life. “Big Bear to Lone Wolf. Come in.”
   Kade rolled his eyes and pressed the transmit button. “Kade here. What’s the situation report, Nichols?”
   “You’re ruining my fun, boss.” He shook his head but played along. He had to pick his battles. “Lone Wolf to Big Bear. What’s the sitrep?”
   “Much better.” A chuckle sounded through the radio. “A beat-up, dark blue Camaro just turned off the highway. One occupant. Looks to be our target. She’s heading toward the cottage.”
   “Use the SUV to block the road behind her. If she gets spooked, I don’t want her doing a one-eighty and making it to the highway.”
   “Affirmative. Big Bear out.”
   Kade clicked off the mic and belatedly wished he’d downed a handful of antacids before driving out here. Being assigned these eager, raw newbies had to be his penance for his breakdown after the accident. They were also the reason he was here in person rather than monitoring the mission remotely per the usual protocol. Tonight’s target had already tricked his team and gotten away—twice. Kade was here to make sure that didn’t happen again.
   “Cord,” he said through the two-way. “Sitrep.”
   “You mean you aren’t going to call me Little Bear?”
   “Do you want me to?” He was half-afraid of the answer.
   “Hell no. I’m not in junior high.”
   “You guys know I can hear you, right?” Nichols chimed in.
   “Sitrep,” Kade growled.
   “She just passed my ten o’clock,” Cord announced. “Dom should have her in his sights in a few seconds.”
   “Already do,” Dominic confirmed. “The car is pulling up to the house. We’re all set.”
   “Radio silence in three, two, one.” Kade clicked off the transmitter.
   They couldn’t risk the sound of static or a mistimed transmission alerting their target. Or at least, that was the official reason for breaking communications. Unofficially, he needed a few moments of silence to get his impatience under control. What had happened to the bureau’s standards? Big Bear, Little Bear? Hell, two of his agents—Dom and Jack—had tattoos. Since when had the FBI allowed tats? Quantico was going soft.
   He looked through the binoculars. Instead of driving into the attached garage as expected, Bailey did a three-point turn and parked the Camaro pointing down the driveway. Was she suspicious? Had she purposely positioned her vehicle for a quick getaway? His hands tightened around the binoculars. The driver’s door opened. A petite woman in dark-colored shorts and a white T-shirt emerged. A pistol was holstered at her waist and her shoulder-length, curly red hair reflected like flames in the soft glow of the porch light. Even at this distance she had the kinds of curves that made men pay attention—including Kade, much to his chagrin.
   He had more reason than most to despise Enforcers, and yet his breath caught every time he looked at one of her photographs in the case file. He couldn’t imagine the effect she’d have on him if he ever got within a few feet of her in person. It was bad enough that his pulse quickened whenever those deep green eyes gazed back at him from her pictures. But what he hated the most was the odd feeling of kinship he felt toward her, a tug of empathy when he saw the shadows in her eyes, the same shadows he saw every time he looked in a mirror. He couldn’t help wondering what had happened to harden her and make her look so lost, so sad, so incredibly . . . alone.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Originally, from Kentucky, romantic suspense author Lena Diaz also lived in California and Louisiana before settling in Northeast Florida with her husband, two children, and a Shetland Sheepdog named Sparky. A Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® finalist, she's won the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense and has been a finalist for the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award. She loves to watch action movies, garden, and hike in the beautiful Tennessee Smoky Mountains.





TOUR WIDE GIVEAWAY



Monday, October 10, 2016

Tasty Virtual Book Tour for WHEN A MARQUESS LOVES A WOMAN by Vivienne Lorret with #excerpt & #giveaway

WHEN A MARQUESS LOVES A WOMAN
Season's Original #3
by Vivienne Lorret

Available now from Avon Impulse

Amazon | B& N | Google | iTunes | Kobo

As a young, penniless gentleman, Maxwell Harwick knew he had little to offer Juliet White—the most beautiful debutante of the season—except his love, and one thoroughly scandalous kiss. But when they were discovered in a compromising position, a nearly ruined Juliet fled into the arms of a rich, older lord... taking Max’s heart with her.

Now a widow, Lady Juliet Granworth intends to use the fortune she inherited from her odious husband to build a new life in London. Five years have passed, but she’s never forgotten Max… or his soul-searing kiss. Yet it’s clear the newly-minted Marquess of Thayne has not forgiven her—after all, the infuriating man can barely stand the sight of her. But Juliet has endured far too much to give up without a fight and if it’s a battle of wills he wants, it’s a battle he’ll get.

He hates her for breaking his heart. She detests him for destroying her future. But beneath all the loathing, simmers an intoxicating passion that neither can ignore… and the harder they resist, the harder they will inevitably fall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

EXCERPT from WHEN A MARQUESS LOVES A WOMAN:

 He spread his arms out in a shrug, cakes in one hand, walking stick in the other. “Now, as you can see, I am utterly helpless”—he paused at the sound of her scoff—“and unable to taste the cake that you offered to feed me.”
“I made no such offer.”
“Then I cannot think of what I heard moments ago unless...”—he lowered his voice—“you were flirting with me. But you, the ever-composed Lady Granworth, would never do such a thing.”
He wanted to see her color rise, her ire flash, anything. Damn it all, he needed to ruffle her feathers and crawl under her skin. It was the least she owed him.
“I would not even know how to flirt,” she boldly lied and without batting an eye.
Wasn’t every nuance of flirtation woven into her being? Every downward sweep of her lashes. Every subtle curl of her lips. Every slash of her tongue. Every single breath!
“Oh, I’m certain that is a false statement,” he said, keeping his tone smooth and even. “All you have to do is admit to flirting with me, and I’ll be on my way.”
“I. Admit. Nothing.”
He held out his hand. “Then feed me a cake.”
She stepped forward so suddenly she nearly startled him in the process. “Fine.”
The crisply enunciated word tolled a warning bell within him, advising caution. He had anticipated their continued banter and even her eventual retreat, but not her acquiescence. Instinct told him to be wary. And yet curiosity fixed him to the spot.
Lifting her hand, she slipped the serviette into her delicate palm, the edges draping over fingers. He stared, paying close attention to every movement, noting how her lace mitts left the entire length of her slender fingers exposed. No doubt, like her dress, they were designed for a purpose, bringing to mind thoughts of bared limbs.
Then, with a delicate pinch of her thumb and forefinger, she picked up the first cake.
Anticipation thundered in his chest, neck, and ears simultaneously. She could still balk. Still storm off in a flurry. He was prepared for such a response but no longer assured of it. Perhaps challenging her wasn’t the best idea after all.
His gaze shifted from the cake to her eyes, over and again. Her gaze, on the other hand, remained fixed to his as she slowly lifted the cake—
And popped it into her mouth. Then she closed her eyes, a smile curving her lips, while emitting a low murmur of sensual delight.
Max couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move if someone were to set him on fire. The pulse that had pounded so hard an instant ago abruptly dropped to his trousers, banging like a drum as blood engorged his flesh.
The tip of her pert tongue slipped out to tease him further. The taunt transformed into torture when she licked the pink icing from her fingertip and then her thumb. When she finished, her eyes opened, the blue a brighter, deeper hue than the sky overhead. He found himself unable to look away.
“Delicious,” she purred. “So good in fact that I think I’ll have another.”
She pinched the second cake, her lips parted. But before she could lift it to her mouth—before he knew what he was doing—he seized her wrist.
He was half-tempted, half-wild with the need to kiss her, to lose himself in the silken texture of her lips once more. To haul her into his arms and feel the curves of her body with his hands.
It took every shred of control he possessed not to give in. At least, not completely.
Watching her all the while, he lowered his head and took the cake into his mouth.
He swallowed it without fanfare or appreciation. The dessert he really wanted was still waiting.
He slipped her finger into his mouth next, the dainty pad at the tip more silken and sweet than marzipan. In slow, searching swipes, he laved her flesh, mapping the route of every fine impression, wicking away every last bit of icing. He would have stopped if he was frightening her. Hell, he was startled by his own actions. But when he saw her pupils dilate, her gaze drifting down to his mouth, and then heard the quickening of her breath, he knew she was not afraid of him.
She was one of two things—either wholly, explosively angry or...wholly, explosively aroused. And since he’d been the recipient of her temper before, he wagered it was the latter.
A surge of triumph merged with the unleashed desire coursing through him. She could pretend she was cool-headed and aloof all she wanted, but he knew better. Five years ago, that same passion had slipped through the cracks in her composure.
He wanted more. Greedy, he curled his tongue around her, drawing her flesh deeper, and gently grazing the delicate furrows of her knuckle with his teeth.
Max.”
His name shuddered out of her lungs and past her lips, sending a tremor through him. Yet the tinge of vulnerability in her passion-laden plea swiftly brought him to his senses.
With a quick tug, he pulled her closer. Still holding his walking stick, he touched the handle beneath her chin and tilted it up. “Perhaps you should reconsider flirting with your enemy in the future.”




ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

USA Today bestselling author, VIVIENNE LORRET loves romance novels, her pink laptop, her husband, and her two sons (not necessarily in that order…but there are days). Transforming copious amounts of tea into words, she is an Avon Impulse author of works including:  TEMPTING MR. WEATHERSTONE, THE WALLFLOWER WEDDING Series, THE RAKES OF FALLOW HALL Series, THE DUKE’S CHRISTMAS WISH, and the SEASON’S ORIGINAL Series.



TOUR WIDE GIVEAWAY



Friday, October 7, 2016

Tasty Book Tours Cover Reveal for STRIPPED BARE, a Vegas Billionaire novel by Heidi McLaughlin + #Giveaway

STRIPPED BARE
A Vegas Billionaire Novel #1
by Heidi McLaughlin

Releasing March 28, 2017 from Loveswept


"By far one of McLaughlin's best!" - New York Times bestselling author LP Dover 

They don’t call it the Strip for nothing. . .  

In this sinfully sexy Las Vegas romance from bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin, a man who has it all reunites with a woman who takes it all off. 

Living in Sin City, Finn McCormick is no stranger to one-night stands, but the last person he expects to find losing big on the casino floor is a former high school fling. Even though Macey Webster’s clearly down on her luck, she’s still a knockout, and she’s dressed like a stripper—because she is one. Drunk off an unfamiliar cocktail of lust, pity, and compassion, Finn offers to pay Macey’s debts if she cuddles up to him around town . . . and does whatever he wants between the sheets. 

Macey came to Vegas for one reason only: money. She’s got a young daughter to support, and the tips really are bigger in Vegas. But when she blows her earnings on blackjack, her guardian angel is the rich boy who once stole her heart and never called her back. Although Macey would love to turn the tables on Finn, she can’t afford to refuse his proposition—and soon she’s enjoying herself much more than she cares to admit. Macey’s used to baring her flesh, but baring her soul will take far more courage. 

Amazon | Barnes | Google | iTunes | Kobo


About the Author:

HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN 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 a Highland Westie/Mini Schnauzer, Jill and her brother, Racicot. When she's isn't writing one of the many stories planned for release, you'll find her sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games.

STRIPPED BARE at Goodreads
  

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Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Tasty Book Release Blast for the documentary film, LOVE BETWEEN THE COVERS with trailer, bonus clip & #giveaway

LOVE BETWEEN THE COVERS
A Documentary Film
Written, Produced & Directed
by Laurie Kahn

available now at iTunes Movies | Amazon

Love stories are universal. Love stories are powerful.  And so are the women who write them.

LOVE BETWEEN THE COVERS is the fascinating story of the vast, funny, and savvy female community that has built a powerhouse industry sharing love stories.  Romance fiction is sold in 34 languages on six continents, and the genre grosses more than a billion dollars a year—outselling mystery, sci-fi, and fantasy combined. Yet the millions of voracious women (and sometimes men) who read, write, and love romance novels have remained oddly invisible. Until now.

For three years, we follow the lives of five very diverse published romance authors and one unpublished newbie as they build their businesses, find and lose loved ones, cope with a tsunami of change in publishing, and earn a living doing what they love—while empowering others to do the same. Romance authors have built a fandom unlike all others; a global sisterhood where authors know their readers personally and help them become writers themselves. During the three years we’ve been shooting LOVE BETWEEN THE COVERS, we have witnessed the biggest power shift that has taken place in the publishing industry over the last 200 years. And it’s the romance authors who are on the front lines, pioneering new ways to survive and build communities in this rapidly changing environment.

Distributed by The Orchard


Bonus Clip from LOVE BETWEEN THE COVERS
Author Jayne Anne Krentz talking about her first encounter
with romance—something we all remember.


10 Surprising Facts about Romance Novels by Laurie Kahn

Four years ago, when I began making my documentary film Love Between the Covers, I stepped into a community I knew nothing about: the global network of women who write, read, and love romance novels. What I found surprised me. Here are ten things I learned: 
   1. Romance fiction is a billion-dollar industry
Romance novel sales total more than a billion dollars a year. They sell as much as sci-fi, mystery, and fantasy combined. 
   2. The romance readership is HUGE and global
More than 70 million people in the USA alone read at least one romance novel per year, and most of them read many more. The work of popular American romance writer Nora Roberts is translated into 33 languages and distributed on 6 continents. 
   3. There is a surprisingly wide range of romance novels 
Like romance blogger Sarah Wendell says, "Whatever your cup of tea is, someone's pouring it."
Romance novels are often equated with "bodice-rippers," but the steamy historicals with Fabio on the cover were published back in the 1970s and 1980s. Since that time, the spectrum of romance novels has exploded. On one end of that spectrum, there are chaste evangelical romances. On the other end, there are BDSM romances (yes, like that one). 
In between, you'll find paranormal romance with vampires and shapeshifters, time-travel romance, historical romance, contemporary romance, and romantic suspense. There are growing romance subgenres for LGBT love stories, a large community of writers who specialize in African-American romance, and there's even a popular Amish romance subgenre.
    4. Everybody's writing romance
Women of every description (and a small number of men) are the engine of this industry.
Contrary to expectations, romance authors come from every economic class, every racial group, every sexual preference, and every level of education.
When I asked the pioneering African-American romance author Beverly Jenkins about her peers, she told me, "Women from all walks of life do this. We're not sitting in the proverbial trailer park in ratty nightgowns, eating jelly beans and watching soap operas. There are some pretty powerful women doing this! Geneticists, astrophysicists, lawyers, doctors..." The list goes on.
Len Barot (pen name Radclyffe), one of the main characters in Love Between the Covers, began writing lesbian romances during her surgical residency. Mary Bly (pen name Eloisa James), another main character in the film, is a Shakespeare scholar by day and an author of historical romances by night. 
I interviewed PhDs, lawyers, and insurance executives. I also interviewed romance authors who worked in factories. There's an open door for anyone who wants to give it a try. Nora Roberts, the rock star of the romance industry, never went to college.
    5. Women in the romance community are more likely than the general population to be currently married or living with a partner.
We've all seen depictions of the lonely, lovesick romance writer, who pens titillating novels while eating bonbons and sobbing over her keyboard. 
Don't believe the stereotype. While romance does offer women a place to escape daily life and live out their fantasies, this community of readers and writers are statistically more likely than most to be in happy relationships.
   6. Romance authors become personal friends with their readers, and readers find one another.
In the romance community friendships that begin online - based on a shared love of books-- often become real and enduring friendships. 
Beverly Jenkins and her readers are in constant contact at Beverly's Facebook page, talking about books, football, music, and the ups and downs of their everyday lives. Every other year, Beverly takes a trip with her readers to places where her novels are set.
Radclyffe invites beginning authors to her farm in upstate New York, where she leads workshops on romance writing, and several of Eloisa James's loyal readers told us they found their closest friends, with whom they communicate every day, through Eloisa's blog.
   7. Romance writers get tremendous support from one another
Why are these women so happy to pull a less experienced writer up the ranks? I asked many authors this question, and almost all of them told me stories of their early romance mentors--and their desire to pay it forward.
 
At a Romance Writers of America (RWA) national conference, unpublished writers are always welcome (something that does not happen at other writer conferences), and there are dozens of workshops taught by established writers about everything from plot structure and writing knife-fights, to social networking and negotiating contracts. You will see bestselling novelists sitting down for coffee with unpublished newbies, critiquing their work and giving them business advice.
   8. Romance authors are on the cutting edge, pioneering new technologies 
Romance writers and readers were the first to enthusiastically adopt e-books, a service which works well for anyone who buys hundreds of books, and romance writers have always been mavericks of social media, using it effectively to build fan communities. 
Romance has been at the forefront of the biggest change to take place in publishing in the last 200 years: self publishing. Together, romance authors have figured out how to succeed in self-publishing. Instead of being secretive, these one-person indie publishing houses share their knowhow and numbers (not a common practice in publishing).
   9. You can take courses about romance fiction at Princeton, Harvard, DePaul and dozens of other universities
Literature scholars, cultural historians, and popular culture studies professors founded the International Association for the Study of Popular Romance five years ago. They hold annual conferences, and they've also started the peer-reviewed onlineJournal for Popular Culture Studies. It's a growing interdisciplinary field.
 
   10. Romance writing isn't an easy gig
You might think writing romance novels is more of a breezy pastime than a professional venture, but the deadlines that romance novelists face are incredibly rigorous. Susan Donovan described the feeling of being on-deadline saying, "There's always a flame behind your ass." Some women publish three or four books a year. On top of this, most novelists handle their own promotion, and self-published authors also handle their novels' distribution. When you're a romance novelist, you are a one-woman business.

I had a blast exploring the romance community over the last four years. In creating Love Between the Covers, I discovered one of the few places where women are always center stage, where female characters always win, where justice prevails in every book, and where the broad spectrum of desires of women from all backgrounds are not feared, but explored unapologetically.


*Originally featured in The Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/laurie-kahn/romance-novels_b_7109458.html

About Laurie Kahn:

Director/Producer - LAURIE KAHN’s films have won major awards, been shown on PBS primetime, broadcast around the world, and used widely in university classrooms, and community groups. Her first film, A Midwife’s Tale, was based on the 18th century diary of midwife Martha Ballard and Laurel Ulrich’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book A MIDWIFE’S TALE. It won film festival awards and a national Emmy for Outstanding Non-Fiction. Her film, Tupperware! was broadcast in more than 20 countries, won the George Foster Peabody Award and was nominated for a national Best Nonfiction Director Emmy. Kahn previously worked on Eyes on the Prize: America’s Civil Rights Years, The American Experience, FRONTLINE’S Crisis in Central America, All Things Considered, and Time Out. She’s a resident scholar at Brandeis’s Women’s Studies Research Center.


TOUR WIDE GIVEAWAY



Monday, June 6, 2016

Review Stop on the Tasty Virtual Book Tour for 30 NIGHTS by Christine d'Abo with #excerpt + #giveaway

30 NIGHTS
The 30 series #2
by Christine d’Abo

now available at


Baring your body is simple—but baring your soul might just change everything…

The last thing Glenna O'Donald expected to stumble upon in a cemetery was a pack of index cards. And not just any cards--each one contains instructions for a seriously kinky, no-holds-barred sexual encounter. Glenna, an over-analytical research assistant by day, is suddenly tempted to conduct some nocturnal experiments of her own. Especially when gorgeous university professor Eric Morris offers to be her lab partner.

Soon Glenna begins meeting with Eric once a week to try out the suggestions that intrigue her most. In between those daring nights of sensual exploration are work days filled with laughter and flirting…until Glenna fears she's getting in too deep. For all the pleasure she's giving and receiving, Glenna wants more than skin-on-skin interaction--and Eric realizes he's about to lose the intimate connection he didn't know he needed. Can they find the courage to take this game to the next level?

As hot as it is heartwarming, Christine d'Abo's fresh, witty novel proves that practice makes perfect, and that some games are worth playing…


MY REVIEW:

Having found a set of sex cards, Glenna O’Donald is tempted but too hesitant to suggest them to her fantasy dream man, Professor Eric Morris. Even though he’s the man, she can’t go a day without seeing so she takes the long way through the building so she can pass his office, and she uses his handsome face as fantasy fuel to masturbate by, she still can’t bring herself to say two words to him…after all…he probably doesn’t even know who she is. Or so she thought. When he stops by her office one day and mentions overhearing her discussion with her friend, Jasmine about him and the cards, he shows he is curious about them, and her. He does know who she is, he does know her name, and he’s interested in playing out the suggestions on the cards. Can her life get any better? No, she thought…but then they started their little experiment and her fantasies came to life…until real life began to interfere.

I liked Glenna, Eric, and Jasmine immediately. I loved the setting because it brought back fond memories of my college days and hanging around members of academia that provided wonderful and intelligent conversations. I never had a professor who was as sexy as Eric was, but then I couldn’t have it all. Darn it!

The story started out a little slow and I wondered if I was going to like it since I didn’t know what to expect and was beginning to wonder if it was much tamer than I had hoped but then Eric and Jasmine went to dinner, and the experiment began. I understood the protocol that the two had set up but wanted more for both of them and was glad when things started coming together.

30 NIGHTS by Christine d’Abo is a fun, delightful, steamy as all get out, sexually inspiring story about a woman who needs a little fun in her life, and a man who needs to know that he can still be the kind of man a woman would want in her life. I highly recommend 30 NIGHTS to everyone who loves a girl gets guy when she least expected to romance. I know what it’s like to work too much and play too little so I connected with Glenna immediately and Eric can be my knight in shining armor any time he wants. He’s romantic and sexy, eager to please, and adventurous…just my kind of man. I have to admit, it would be fun to come across my own set of 30 sex cards…even if I found them in a cemetery. You have to read 30 DAYS by Christine d’Abo to understand the origins of the cards. It’s a truly sweet story too.

Happy Reading Everyone!

***galley provided by publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and unscripted review


EXCERPT:

      “I’m telling you, the staff barbecue is the perfect place for you to talk to him.” She opened her lunch and the smell of kimchi rice filled the room.
    The him she was referring to was Professor Eric Morris. The tall, dark-haired, super-fit sociology professor had a voice that could melt hearts and drop panties with a simple hello. Professor Eric Morris, who had more female students in his class than anyone else on campus. A man who rarely smiled, but when he looked at you there was no doubt he not only saw you, but every thought and feeling that flitted through your head. He starred in far too many of my nightly fantasies for me to admit without sounding like a crazy, obsessed stalker.
    The man, who in the year and a bit that he’d been teaching at the college, I’d barely managed to say two words to, because I was, as Jasmine put it, a coward.
    “I love you like a sister, Jaz. But there is no way I’m going to say anything to him. Ever.”
    It was the Friday before the Labor Day weekend, the last workday before the start of the school year. Most of the professors from the college were gone, taking their last bit of vacation to play golf, read, or do whatever their passions happened to be. I loved working this time of year. The school was quiet. It always felt as though someone had taken a deep breath and were waiting to exhale. A collective pause before the chaos to come.
    This year was going to be especially awesome. Professor Mickelson, my boss, had already been away for three months on his semester-long sabbatical. I still had four more months of only communicating with him via e-mail. Heaven!
    “Are you insane?” Jasmine threw her napkin at me. “This is the perfect time for you to do it. He’ll be there. You’ll be there. Your crazy boss won’t be there. You might even be able to relax and have fun for once.”
    She was my best friend in the whole wide world, but there were times when Jasmine scared the shit out of me. I looked down at my hands and picked at the dry skin around my nail. “I just can’t.”
    “What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll say no. At the very least you’ll have an answer and you can move on to someone else.”
    A grad student chose that moment to come into the kitchen. He didn’t even look at us as he made his way to the coffee machine. I leaned forward to close the distance between me and Jasmine. “I’m quite happy with my fantasies, thank you.”
    “I bet you are. I bet you dream about climbing up his body and licking every inch of his skin.”
    The grad student looked at us wide-eyed before he spun away quickly. I got the impression he was still listening, no doubt wanting to get some dirt that could be passed around the student lounge. Great, like I needed that kind of attention.
    I nodded my head in the direction of our friend. “Can you keep your voice down a bit?”
    “Not if you’re not going to listen to my advice.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, her eyes locked onto mine. “You need to make a move before someone else snatches him up.”
    Now the grad student wasn’t even pretending that he wasn’t paying attention. Jasmine must have picked up on it too, because in the next instant she turned around and glared at him. “Don’t you have someplace to be, Stuart? Like running your tutorial?”
    “Ah, yeah. Yes.” For a moment, I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head.
    “Then move your ass.” Jasmine pointed at the door and narrowed her gaze.
    I’d never seen a person move that quickly before in my life.
    When she turned her glare back on me, I knew I wasn’t going to be spared anything. “Glenna, I know you don’t believe me, but this is the truth. You are not meant to be alone. You and Eric would be cute together. He’s serious, you’re serious. Just think about what sex would be like with him. Jesus, if I weren’t gay even I’d be tempted to take him for a ride my-self.”
    And there was a mental picture I so didn’t want—my best friend and my crush fucking.
    “I hate you.” I pulled my tuna sandwich out of my container and took a giant bite. “He doesn’t even know I’m alive. Saying hello to him at the barbecue isn’t going to do anything to help get him into my bed.”
    “Well, you can’t expect him to fuck you if you can’t at least have a simple conversation.” She took a big bite of her kimchi and waved her fork around. “Maybe you can get drunk and then grope his ass. Then you’d have to go apologize. There might be groveling. ‘Oh, please Eric, how can I ever make it up to you?’” She batted her eyelashes at me before laughing. “You should see your face.”
    “You’re an asshole. Why are we even friends?”
    “Because I showed you how to shotgun a beer our first week of college.”
    “Only after I saved your ass with that essay.”
    But as she knew, my brain does this thing that as soon as someone puts a thought out there I can’t help but picture how things will work out, all the way to their natural conclusion. In my head, I saw myself at the party. Eric would walk by on his way to the food table or something. I’d “accidentally” bump into him as he passed me and look into his eyes all surprised. Maybe I’d even spill a drink on myself. He’d think he’d done it and would help me clean myself.
    I’m sorry, Glenna. How can I make up for this?
    Oh nothing. It was an accident.
    I can’t stand by while I’ve done you wrong. At least let me give you a clean shirt.
    I’d blush, of course, because who wouldn’t. Thank you.
    Why don’t you take mine? His voice would be that low rumble that always seemed to turn me on. His eyes would be locked onto me, as he’d slowly unbutton his shirt.
    Wow, Eric. Your chest is so firm.
    Would you like to see the rest of me?
    And bam, crazy-monkey sex!
    If only.
    I cleared my throat and quickly took another bite of my sandwich. “I don’t think Eric likes anyone. Or has sex. Or anything. He’s always on his own.”
    “Baby, I’ve seen that man. He’s having sex. As much as he wants, with whomever he wants to do it with. I keep telling you all you need to do is go after him.”
    “He doesn’t know I’m alive,” I said again. And I was essentially a coworker. That went against so many things on my mental “don’t touch” list I couldn’t fathom it.
    “Whose fault is that? Not his. If you want someone then you need to do something about it. Life doesn’t reward the cautious.”
    “Sometimes it does.”
    “You don’t believe that.”
    I hated when she was right. “Maybe.”
    “You’re a research assistant who lives in the world of studies and observations. Talk to him—hell, I was serious about the groping. I’m sure you could chalk this up to some exception-ally hands-on research project.”
    “God, you’re a child sometimes. I don’t need a man to fulfill me when I have a perfectly good vibrator at home to help—”
    “Baby, all you do is masturbate.”
     “—live out my fantasies. I’d be scared that the reality would never live up to the imaginary Eric that I’ve created in my head.”
    It was in that moment that my skin began to tingle. We were still alone in the kitchen, but I could have sworn someone was there. It was probably Stuart standing outside in the hall trying to get some more dirt. Well, he was out of luck because I was done being browbeaten by Jasmine.
    “I need to get back soon. Professor Mickelson left me a pile of books to pull and outline for him. He’ll be chasing me through e-mails if I’m not done soon.”
    Thankfully, she sighed, signaling the end of her teasing. “When does the old goat get back?”
    “He’s off all term, but he’s threatened to come back around the end of October for a check-in. Then I’m sure he’ll have me buried in another bunch of new projects before the next term starts.”
    “I’d better head out too. I have a one-thirty meeting. Apparently, the CS profs want to do a study on online learning again. I have to pull some old case studies so they don’t rehash an old thesis.”
    “Blah.”
    The echo of our chairs scraping as we stood filled the room. One second I was picking up my garbage and taking it to the garbage can, and in the next, I was face-to-face with the object of my lust.
    Professor Eric Morris stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. Well, stood isn’t quite the right description. It’s more like he loomed. He’s probably only a smidgen over six feet tall, but being only five foot four myself, it makes for a huge difference from my perspective. Mind you, being eye level with his chest was no hardship. His dress shirts fit him perfectly, but they couldn’t hide the muscles beneath. As usual, I was paying more attention to his pecs—Were they really as firm as they looked?— rather than his face. That was why I didn’t immediately notice him staring at me. Which he totally was.
    And there was my blush. “Umm, hi, Professor Morris.”
     Woot, go me! I finally spoke to him.
    “Glenna.”
God, his voice! It was a lot lower than any other man’s voice that I knew and had a way of seeping into my body when he spoke. Could the sound of a voice be an aphrodisiac? If so, then I could listen to him read the phone book and probably have an orgasm.
    Jasmine cleared her throat and I realized that we’d been standing staring at each other for longer than was normal. I looked at the garbage in my hand and then at the garbage can directly behind him. “Umm, sorry. I just need to . . .”
    I’d half-expected him to move to the side so I could reach it. Instead, he stayed put, forcing me to step awkwardly around him. I clamped my mouth closed as I moved so he wouldn’t be subjected to the stench of my tuna breath. As I brushed past him, I got a nose full of his aftershave. It wasn’t a brand that I knew, but he smelled awesome and it always made me a bit giddy when he was nearby. I could always tell when he’d been in a room, my nose keenly aware of his lingering scent.
    It was only after I finally dropped my garbage into the bin that Eric moved over to the coffee machines. I wasn’t a close colleague to him and hadn’t worked on any of his projects since he’d come to the school, so I didn’t have much I could say to him. Not that he was particularly easy to speak to with his back to us. I scampered over to the table and grabbed my things. “I need to stop and get some paper for my printer.”
    “Cool.” Jasmine was clearly trying to fight off a laughing fit. “Want to grab a coffee before we go? You look like you could use one.”
    I’m going to kill her. “No, I’m good for now.”
    Just before we left the kitchen, Jasmine piped up. “Have a great day, Professor Morris.”
    “You as well, Ms. Houng, Glenna.”
    Yes, she was going to die in the most painful way possible.
    Somehow I managed to keep my mouth shut until we were out of earshot. “I hate you.”
    “Are you kidding me? For a second I thought he was going to throw you over the table and fuck you in front of me.”
    “You’re high. He doesn’t know me.”
    “Don’t be so dramatic. He knew your name, which means he knows who you are. And you couldn’t see his face the way I did. Not only does that boy know you’re alive, but he’s interested.”
    “Whatever.” She was just trying to get me going. He couldn’t be interested.
    As we were about to turn the corner, I looked back down the hall toward the kitchen. Eric was standing there, coffee cup in his hand, staring back at me.
    He wasn’t interested, was he?
    Until today I didn’t even think he remembered my name.
    We were almost back to the office when I heard my cell phone ringing. I missed it, but when I finally got to my desk and checked, I saw that there were four missed calls from my mom. “Shit.”
    “What’s wrong?” Jasmine turned her seat to face me.
    “Not sure yet. Sec. Hey, Mom. Sorry, I was at lunch.”
    “Glenna, hon.” It took no time to realize that she’d been crying.
    “What’s wrong? Is it Dad?”
    “No, your father’s fine. It’s Great Glenna.”
    I closed my eyes and felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh no.”
     “She’s in the hospital, but the doctors aren’t sure she’s going to make it through the night. Can you come?”
    “Where are you?”
    “They took her to St. Joseph’s.”
    “I’m on my way.”
    Jasmine was on her feet standing in front of me when I hung up. “Hon, what’s wrong?”
    “It’s my great-grandmother. She’s dying.”

30 NIGHTS


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Christine d’Abo is a romance novelist and short story writer, with over thirty publications to her name. She loves to exercise and stops writing just long enough to keep her body in motion too. When she’s not pretending to be a ninja in her basement, she’s most likely spending time with her husband, daughters, and her two dogs.



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