Friday, October 24, 2014

Romancing Christmas Cover Reveal



Romancing Christmas: 10 Love Stories to Spice up the Holidays

Multi-author boxed set
Release Date: November 3, 2014
Genre: Holiday Romance

Cover Artist: http://www.bellamediamanagement.com/

~~Blurb~~
Do you like your Christmas nice...or a little naughty? Bring the season into your heart with love stories to match your mood. This boxed set from 10 of today’s hottest romance authors will warm your heart even on the coldest night.



Just 99 Cents for a limited time!




~~JOIN IN THE FUN AT OUR FACEBOOK PARTY~~

Join the ROMANCING CHRISTMAS authors for their LAUNCH DAY PARTY! The authors and a slew of their sassy friends will be celebrating the release, November 3rd, 4th, and 5th, 10:30 AM to 10:30 PM (EASTERN TIME).

Prizes Galore, Q&A, Authors, Readers, Books, and FUN! So what are you waiting for? Come join us and have a blast!



~~Novellas included in set~~
USA Today Bestselling Author Dale Mayer ~ Broken Protocols 3.5 

Award-winning author H.D. Thomson ~ Shades of Holly

Chantel Rhondeau ~ Season For Love

Award-winning author Leslie Lynch ~ Christmas Hope

Award-winning author Sandy Loyd A Christmas Miracle
Website: www.sandyloyd.com

Barbara Lohr ~ The Salty Carmel Christmas 
Website: www.BarbaraLohrAuthor.com

Marcia JamesHeating Up the Holidays

Carolyn Hughey ~ Insanity Claus  
Website: www.carolynhughey.com

Tallulah Grace ~ A Family for Christmas 
Website: http://www.tallulahgrace.com

Rachelle Ayala A Father for Christmas

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Looking for a great Time Travel Romance? Check this out!

MUST LOVE BREECHES
Time Travel Romance
Release Date: Sep 3 2014
Length: Novel (98,000 words)
Ebook Price: $4.99 
ISBN: 978-0-9905400-0-7
Content advisory: Adult language, explicit sex

Blurb

She's finally met the man of her dreams. There's only one problem: he lives in a different century.

"A fresh, charming new voice" – New York Times bestselling author Tessa Dare

HOW FAR WOULD YOU TRAVEL FOR LOVE?

A mysterious artifact zaps Isabelle Rochon to pre-Victorian England, but before she understands the card case’s significance a thief steals it. Now she must find the artifact, navigate the pitfalls of a stiffly polite London, keep her time-traveling origins a secret, and resist her growing attraction to Lord Montagu, the Vicious Viscount so hot, he curls her toes.

To Lord Montagu nothing makes more sense than keeping his distance from the strange but lovely Colonial. However, when his scheme for revenge reaches a stalemate, he convinces Isabelle to masquerade as his fiancée. What he did not bargain on is being drawn to her intellectually as well as physically.

Lord Montagu’s now constant presence overthrows her equilibrium and her common sense. Isabelle thought all she wanted was to return home, but as passion flares between them, she must decide when her true home—as well as her heart—lies.


Bio


Angela is a geek girl romance writer. What makes her romances geeky? Whether it's fan girling over Ada Lovelace by having her as a secondary character in Must Love Breeches, or outright geek references with geek types in her romantic comedy with paranormal elements, Beer and Groping in Las Vegas, or going all Southern steampunk in Steam Me Up, Rawley, she likes to have fun with her romances and hopes her readers do too.

Angela works at an independent bookstore and lives in an historic house in the beautiful and quirky town of Mobile, AL. When she's not writing, she enjoys the usual stuff like gardening, reading, hanging out, eating, drinking, chasing squirrels out of the walls and creating the occasional knitted scarf. She's had a varied career, including website programming and directing a small local history museum, and has discovered that writing allows her to explore all her interests.

She's an admitted geek and is proud to be among the few but mighty Browncoats who watched Firefly the first night it aired. She was introduced to the wonderful world of science fiction by her father, by way of watching reruns of the original Star Trek in her tweens and later giving her a copy of Walter M. Miller Jr's A Canticle for Leibowitz as a teenager. She hasn't looked back since.

She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation from Georgia State University. She was an exchange student to Finland in high school and studied abroad in Vienna one summer in college.

Author Links

Join my mailing list: http://bit.ly/1sde3Qi
Paranormal Unbound, the group blog I belong to: http://bit.ly/1sdaIRa

Book Links


Must Love Breeches board on Pinterest: http://bit.ly/1qCPKcy
Official Book Page: http://bit.ly/MLBBook

Excerpt


A reenactment ball was the perfect setting for romance. Or not.
Isabelle Rochon fidgeted in her oddly-shaped-but-oh-so-accurate ball gown, surrounded by women who’d sacrificed historical authenticity for sex appeal. Red carpet ball gowns in the nineteenth century, really? Once again she was like the dorky kid participating in dress-up day at school when everyone else had magically decided it was lame.
“Gah. I feel like a green robot with strange battle armor.” Isabelle pointed to her dark green dress, the shoulders flaring out almost to a point, exaggerating their width. “What were the fashionistas in 1834 thinking?”
“I have no bloody idea.” Jocelyn squeezed the poof of fabric at her shoulder. “These huge-ass sleeves are ridiculous.”
“Ah, screw it, we’re having fun, right? I’m not going to self-sabotage the ball. Not after all the time I spent obsessing over my costume.”
“And obsessing over the etiquette rules.”
“That too.” Besides, how fun was it to learn Jocelyn shared her obsession with guys in period clothes and bodice-ripper romances?
Isabelle eyed a guy strolling past in tight-fitting, buff-colored pantaloons. She pitched her voice to be heard over the string quartet. “Hmm. How about the clothes on that daring derriere?”
Jocelyn sucked on her olive and plopped the empty stir stick into her martini. “Oh, yes. Definitely a breech-ripper.”
Isabelle choked on her Bellini, the champagne fizz tickling her throat and nose. This was the first opportunity they’d had to socialize outside work, so she treated this moment delicately, afraid to puncture the mood. No need to point out he sported pantaloons, not breeches.
She should ease up on the drink, though. She didn’t want to get plastered at the Thirty-fourth Annual Prancing Through History Reenactment Ball. Especially since her new colleagues would be around. And her boss. She needed to impress him.
“Look lively,” Jocelyn said, her voice low, with a dollop of teasing. “Here comes the office hottie.”
She’d been cultivating a mild crush on Andrew since starting her new job at the British Museum six months ago. The whole situation was perfect. A guy in the same field would respect her interests, wouldn’t expect her to give up her profession for a relationship. He was safe. If it worked out, great, if not, no biggie. She was happy, finally, with how her life was working out.
She’d pictured him in period clothing before, looking resplendent.
He did.
“Hi, Andrew.” Her voice came out a little too high. Jeez, could she sound any more like a lovesick fool? She always did this around gorgeous men—went ga-ga as if she couldn’t rub two brain cells together. She gazed around the Duke of Chelmsford’s newly renovated ballroom and pretended as if her breath hadn’t quickened and her body hadn’t heated at the sight of Andrew.
“Hello, Isabelle. Jocelyn.” Andrew nodded. His smile felt like a gift for her alone.
Her pulse throbbed. He’d sought her out. Play it cool. Say something witty. “So, uh, having fun yet?” Having fun yet?
Something, or someone, in the crowd hogged his attention. She followed his gaze until she found it. Or rather him. Their boss at the bar.
Andrew faced her and the remnants of calculation on his hot-as-heck features disappeared behind his over-bright grin.
He leaned closer.
The artificial tang of his cologne drifted her way. She wrinkled her nose.
“Well done on the Whittaker exhibit. Finding that journal was a bit of a coup. It’ll be a fine addition to the exhibit, once it’s built.”
He’d noticed. She’d worked damn hard. “Thank you.” Why couldn’t Brits find her Southern accent as sexy as she found theirs?
“Glad you came across the pond to work with us. That find should put you in the running for the promotion.”
Good. The promotion would mean she could stay in London. Well, it would make staying easier. No matter what, she was determined to remain.
“Of course, you’ll have to beat me out.”
Cold clarity hit her stomach like accidentally gulping a glass of iced gin instead of iced water, jolting her from her usual foray into Incoherent Land around attractive guys. “You’re applying too?” Of course he was.
“Without a doubt. Career changer and all. I’m a shoo-in. Sure you still want to apply?”
Could she scrub the smug look off his face? She settled for the less satisfactory, but more controlled, “Yes.”
Now catching her boss’s attention was more important than ever. Besides wanting to escape into another era, she’d also hoped her costume would impress him. She glanced at the wet bar. Drat. Where had her boss gone?
Andrew slipped his hand around her elbow, pulling her closer. “How about we ditch this party and grab a pint? You and me.” He ignored Jocelyn, who stared back and forth between them.
It all made sense—his sudden interest after dismissing her for months, the calculation she’d caught when he’d turned back—he thought he’d intimidate and charm her into giving up the position.
She yanked her arm free, saying, “Fat chance, you smarmy horndog,” which cut through the room because, of course, the music had just ended.
Jocelyn snorted her drink, eyes watering, and coughed, fighting to catch her breath. For a moment, her coughing was the only sound punctuating the silence.
The curious eyes of the onlookers made Isabelle feel as if a huge moat had sprung up around her. The moat of Beware, All Ye Who Enter—Idiot in the Center. If one of those eyes were her boss…
Andrew trotted out his grin, the one that used to make her insides hum. “Thought we had a connection. No?” He backed away, hands up, eyes locked with hers in a you’re-such-a-fool stare, his heels snapping on the marble floor with each backward step. “Cheers, then, babe. May the best man win.” He nodded and sauntered off.
Jocelyn, bless her, completely ignored the Moat of Embarrassment and stepped to Isabelle’s side. “How had we never noticed what an ass he was?”
“Probably because we were too busy drooling?”
“There is that.”
“Seriously, I should just go pound my head against the nearest vertical object and repeat one hundred times, ‘When will I learn?’”
“Just be careful not to poke out your eye with those lethal shoulder sleeves.”
“Ha.” But Jocelyn’s dry humor softened Isabelle’s mood. “Can’t believe he expects me to just roll over. I have to get the promotion, I need the security. No way am I going to sacrifice my dream to be with a guy, I don’t care how hot he is.”

Never again would she let a jerk encased in good-looking skin influence her life. Been there. Done that. Have the gold-stitched Fool’s cap.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

#NewRelease - Romance - Claiming Carlos








"Sexy & hilarious foodie romance -- too hot in the kitchen."
Enjoyed Taming Romeo (Sanchez Sisters Book #1)? Then you know bossy big sister Choco. See what antics she gets into in Claiming Carlos.
Choco Sanchez is stuck in a rut. She’s never hit a softball and has been friends forever with Carlos Lopez, the head cook at her family’s Filipino restaurant. When flashy restaurant consultant Johnny Dee hits her with a pitch, she falls head over heels and gets a makeover.

Carlos Lopez is not about to lose one for the home team. When Johnny launches a full scale change on the menu, Carlos sends him straight into the dumpster. Claiming Choco’s heart proves more difficult, especially when her secrets threaten to doom their love. But never underestimate a man who can cook hot, spicy, and steamy, and we ain’t talking just food.

Steamy love scenes and language. Suitable for readers 18+.






Amazon: US IN UK DE FR ES IT JP BR CA MX AU





 
Rachelle Ayala is an author of dramatic romantic suspense and humorous, sexy contemporary romances. Her heroines are feisty and her heroes hot. She writes emotionally challenging stories but believes in the power of love and hope.
Subscribe to her mailing list for upcoming books and giveaways. http://eepurl.com/lR5kv and find her books at online retailers Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Apple iBookstore, and more.
Fiction: Michal’s Window, Broken Build, Hidden Under Her Heart, Chance for Love Boxed Set, Knowing Vera, Taming Romeo, Whole Latte Love, Played by Love, Playing the Rookie, A Father for Christmas, Claiming Carlos
Want to Contact Rachelle?



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Tuesday, October 21, 2014

#NewRelease - Contemporary Romance - The Art of Love




The Art of Love by Michele Shriver
Published on October 21, 2014






Chelsea Matthews has a simple dream—travel the country on the art fair circuit selling her hand-crafted jewelry. When her disapproving father refuses to release her trust fund money to support her ambitions, she takes a part-time job in a campus gallery. While counting the days until she can be free of its stuffy confines, an unexpected temptation comes in the form of a sensitive painter.

For Hayden Shaw, having his paintings displayed in the finest galleries is the true measure of an artist’s success. When the pursuit of his goal puts him in contact with the free-spirited Chelsea, his world is turned upside down.

Can two seemingly opposite artists find middle ground and discover the art of love, or will a gallery curator with an agenda of her own undermine both their dreams?




Hayden Shaw stopped and took a deep breath. Whittier Gallery. The name was etched on the door, and underneath that, in smaller letters, Marissa Kincaid, Curator. Was she the woman who would change his life?

A chime sounded as Hayden pulled the door open and walked inside, a portfolio of his work tucked under his arm. He had a pitch prepared as to why this particular gallery should feature his art. That same pitch hadn’t gone over well at the last gallery he visited, but he was undeterred.

A woman sat behind the desk talking on the phone and she gestured in his direction that she was almost finished. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Hayden nodded and wandered in the direction of one of the displays. It featured oil painted scenes of the Boston Harbor, and he couldn’t deny the skill of the artist. Did Hayden’s own work belong here? Was he good enough?

No negative thoughts, Shaw, he chastised himself. Hayden remembered the pep talk his roommate had given him before he left. He had to be bold and confident.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Can I help you?”

Hayden turned around to face the woman as she stepped out from behind the desk. “I hope so. Are you Ms. Kincaid?” As he studied her face, though, Hayden doubted it. The woman facing him didn’t appear much older than his own twenty years. He doubted she was old enough to be in charge of a prestigious art gallery.

She shook her head and tucked a wayward strand of light brown hair behind her ear. “No. I’m Chelsea Matthews. I just work here.”

“Hayden Shaw.” He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m a student here at MassArt,” Hayden said. “I understand you display student work, and I have a portfolio with some pictures of my paintings—”

“Pictures?” Chelsea interrupted, “or paintings?”

Hadn’t he made that clear? Hayden tried again. “I’m painter and I’m interested in having my paintings displayed here. I do photorealism, so they’re paintings based on photographs. I didn’t want to lug the originals all the way across campus, so I brought pictures of them.”

“So, pictures of paintings of pictures is what you’re saying.” Chelsea’s face carried an amused expression, and Hayden wasn’t sure how to take it. Was she making fun of him, or rather his style? Not everyone understood or appreciated photorealism. Maybe this gallery wasn’t the right place after all. Or was she simply trying to joke around? He didn’t always get people with quirky senses of humor.

“I guess you could say that.” He set the portfolio on the desk. “Would you like to see them?”

“I could look at them, but it’s not up to me whether the gallery will showcase your work,” Chelsea said. “Can you leave this so I can show Marissa?”

“Sure. I can do that.”

“Good. She should be back in a little later,” she said. “Can I ask you something, though?”

Hayden nodded. “Fire away.”

“Why here?”

He had the speech prepared as to why he felt this gallery was a good fit, but truthfully it wasn’t much different than the one he gave at the previous gallery. Besides, he didn’t think that was what she wanted to hear. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“I mean what’s the appeal here? What’s so special about galleries?”

Was she serious? She worked in a gallery, and she wanted him to tell her what was special about them? “I want people to see my work.”

“Then why not display it around campus? In the classroom buildings, stairwells, wherever. People do.”

He knew that. It was impossible to walk anywhere on the MassArt campus without seeing student artwork on display. While it made for an interesting environment, seeing paintings in stairwells, sculptures on the grass and metal works hanging from a tree, Hayden didn’t quite understand why it was such a popular thing to do. “I want people to be able to appreciate my work.”

“Who’s to say that the folks walking down Huntington Avenue can’t appreciate it?”

She had a point, and Hayden was left unsure how to respond. “It’s not the same.”

“You mean you want someone to appreciate it by buying it.” Her lips curled up in a smile. “Am I right, Hayden Shaw?”

She was, and Hayden hated how materialistic she made him sound. He stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and averted his gaze to the floor.

“Oh please, don’t be embarrassed.” Chelsea laughed. “Making money is a noble goal. I certainly want to make money from my art.”

“You’re an artist too?” Hayden regarded her with curiosity. “What kind? Are you a student here?”

“Yes. Jewelry and metalsmithing major.” She reached up and touched the necklace she wore, holding it out for him to see. “I made this.”

For the first time, Hayden examined it. It looked to be made out of Scrabble tiles, spelling out the letters F-R-E-E. Art was definitely in the eye of the beholder, but he found the necklace oddly appealing, much like the woman who wore it. “It’s very unique,” he said. “Are you? Free, that is?”

Mischief danced in her hazel eyes. Pretty eyes, he decided. Not unlike the rest of her. “It depends on the context in which you’re asking.”

“A woman of mystery. I like that,” Hayden said, then wished he could take the words back. The conversation had veered dangerously close to flirting, which probably wasn’t wise given that he hoped to have a business relationship with this gallery. “Is your work on display here?” His eyes scanned the gallery showroom for any cases that might house jewelry.

She shook her head. “No. Galleries aren’t my thing, and my work’s not Marissa’s thing.” She shrugged. “I’m hoping to go on the art fair circuit this summer, after graduation.”

“Art fairs?” Hayden frowned.

“Yeah. You know, like Ann Arbor. Des Moines. Kansas City.”

Why would anyone pass on a prestigious gallery in Boston in favor of the capital of Iowa or a city most famous for barbecue? “Are you from the Midwest?” Hayden asked.

“No. New Hampshire.”

“Then I don’t see a connection,” Hayden said.

“The cities I just mentioned host some of the best art fairs in the country,” Chelsea said. “Surely you’ve heard of them.” She said it as if she expected everyone had.

Hayden shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. Art fairs aren’t really my thing.” He didn’t get the appeal of traveling to cities in the middle of nowhere, peddling art on the street. “No offense, but have you considered aiming a little higher?” Okay, so the Scrabble necklace was kind of strange. Some people liked strange.

The amusement that once reflected in her eyes faded, and Hayden knew at once that his words had offended her. “No offense, but have you?” She retorted before turning away from him. “I’ll show Marissa your pictures when she gets back.”





Buy it for 99 cents!!!















Michele Shriver writes women’s fiction and contemporary romance. Her books feature flawed-but-likeable characters in real-life settings. She’s not afraid to break the rules, but never stops believing in happily ever after. In her free time, Michele enjoys football, hockey and reading a good book written by someone else.

Website: www.micheleshriver.com

Blog: http://micheleshriver.wordpress.com/blog/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Michele-Shriver/241190605939040

Twitter: www.twitter.com/micheleshriver


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