martedì 5 dicembre 2017

BLOGGER RECOGNITION AWARD



Oggi mi arriva una mail che mi segnala che qualcuno ha lasciato un commento sul mio blog!
Oh cavolo, capita così raramente che apro subito il commento e rimango piacevolmente sorpresa di essere stata nominata per il Blogger Recognition Award.


Ecco  le regole:
1-Ringraziare il blogger che ti ha nominato e inserire il link al suo Blog
2-Scrivere un post per mostrare il proprio riconoscimento
3-Raccontare la nascita del proprio Blog
4-Dare consigli ai nuovi blogger
5-Nominare altri 15 blogger ai quali vuoi passare il segno di riconoscimento
6-Commentare sul Blog di chi ti ha nominato e fornirgli il link al tuo articolo (anche sulla pagina Fb).

Ringrazio quindi di cuore Letture Sale & Pepe per avermi nominata!

Il mio blog nasce ufficialmente il 6 giungo del 2015 dalla passione per la lettura, ma soprattutto per la lettura in lingua inglese.
Sapevo che in Italia non sarebbe mai stato un blog seguito, e che all'etero molto probabilmente avrebbero deriso in mio pessimo inglese delle recensioni. La passione e l'entusiasmo però non mi hanno mai fatto arrendere o preoccupare più di tanto del giudizio altrui. 
Ogni tanto rileggo vecchie recensioni e rido da sola per la mia inesperienza e del mio inglese... trovo errori da far rabbrividire. Ogni libro, ogni recensione, ogni post, ha una storia tutta sua, legata a emozioni e ricordi. Per questo non cambierei mai una virgola di quello che ho scritto.
Negli ultimi tempi ho iniziato anche a fare delle recensioni in italiano, quindi adesso trovate due sezioni, English e Italiano.
Il blog lo gestisco da sola e così sarà sempre. Non ha importanza se è piccolo, o se mi seguono in pochi, se la grafica del blog lascia molto a desiderare, l'importante è avere sempre la passione per la lettura.
Consigli ai nuovi blogger? Non credo di essere la blogger giusta a dare consigli... c'è chi dovrebbe darne a me! Probabilmente non credo di poter nemmeno essere definita una Blogger. Quello che mi sento di dire è che un Blog è un mondo. Osservate, leggete, seguite altri Blog, stringete amicizie, metteteci passione e onestà. 

Nomino i seguenti blog:



NEW RELEASE: The British Knight by Louise Bay

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The British Knight, an all-new contemporary romance by Louise Bay is LIVE!!!

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The British Knight by Louise Bay 

Release Date: December 5th 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

When I’m offered the chance to leave New York to live in London for three months, I can’t pack my suitcase fast enough.
As soon as I touch down I’m obsessing over red telephone boxes, palaces and all the black cabs.
But my favorite place is the tube. It’s wall-to-wall hot British men in suits.
When I’m offered a temporary job working for a barrister, I say, sign me up.
On my first commute into work, it’s a total accident when I lose my balance and fall against the most handsome Brit alive. He’s as charming as James Bond and as suave as Mr. Darcy. I want to lick tea from his hard abs and listen to his accent all night long.
Turns out Mr. Handsome is my new boss. And his attitude isn’t as hot as his gorgeous face, broad shoulders and tight ass. He’s brooding, short-tempered and the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.
As we’re fighting, out of nowhere he kisses me. And I’m pretty sure I see fireworks over Big Ben and hear God Save the Queen.
I wasn’t looking for the fairytale but I might have found my knight in shining armor. The problem is he lives an ocean away.

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Read Today:

( Special Price of $2.99 for Release Week ONLY)
Amazon Print: http://amzn.to/2z43fNh
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2mNxFS2

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About the Author:

USA Today bestselling author, Louise Bay writes sexy, contemporary romance novels - the kind she likes to read. Her books include the novels Duke of Manhattan, Hollywood Scandal, Park Avenue Prince, King of Wall Street, The Empire State Series, Indigo Nights and Hopeful.
Ruined by bonk-busters and sexy mini-series of the eighties Louise loves all things sexy and romantic. There's not enough of it in real life so she disappears into the fictional worlds in books and films. Louise loves the rain, the West Wing, London, days when she doesn't have to wear make-up, being on her own, being with friends, elephants and champagne. She loves to hear from readers so get in touch!


Connect with Louise: 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8056592.Louise_Bay 
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1WqwGAf

sabato 25 novembre 2017

NUOVA USCITA: IL MOVIMENTO di Ada Lorenzo


Titolo: IL MOVIMENTO

Autore: Ada Lorenzo

  • Genere: Narrativa
  • Listino: € 13,90
  • Editore: Europa Edizioni
  • Collana: Edificare Universi
  • Pagine: 170
  • Lingua: Italiano
  • EAN: 9788893843973

«Di chi erano quelle lacrime? Dovevo credere a ciò che la mia mente mi suggeriva? Possibile che ricordassi le lacrime della donna che mi aveva messo al mondo?»

In un futuro non troppo lontano, l’umanità deve affrontare la piaga di una dilagante sterilità che mette seriamente a rischio la sopravvivenza della specie. Per contrastare il problema, i pochi esseri umani ancora in grado di procreare vengono costretti ad una pratica, la cosiddetta extragestazione, che comporta la generazione di quanti più figli possibile e poi il loro affidamento, solo perché la maggioranza della popolazione possa crescerli come propri. L’unica realtà che si oppone a questa orribile pratica è l’organizzazione segreta chiamata “Il Movimento”. Orlando, figlio di due genitori biologici che non conosce e cresciuto da altre due persone, tenta di entrare a farne parte. Il percorso, però, è molto arduo. Per poter accedere alle operazioni del Movimento, dovrà affrontare grandi difficoltà ed iniziare un percorso di profonda trasformazione interiore. Tuttavia, non sarà solo, lungo questa strada. Tra amicizie ed amori che si intrecciano e si dissolvono, emergerà una verità ancor più difficile da accettare, rispetto alle precarie condizioni in cui versa l’umanità.


Ada Lorenzo è nata a Belluno nel 1974, ha vissuto molti anni a Lecce, ha studiato psicologia a Roma e ora abita a Torino. Si divide tra la professione di psicoterapeuta, la passione per disegno e pittura e la vita di moglie e madre. Il Movimento è il suo primo romanzo.

mercoledì 22 novembre 2017

COVER REVEAL: TRE PICCOLI FIORI DI VELLUTO VIOLA di Emiliano Di Meo



Un libro bellissimo in una veste tutta nuova.


Titolo: TRE PICCOLI FIORI DI VELLUTO VIOLA

Autore: Emiliano Di Meo

Genere: M/M - Contemporaneo

Pubblicazione: 19 marzo 2017



TRAMA 


Ci sono storie che alcuni vorrebbero impedirti di raccontare. Ti fissano portandosi l'indice davanti al naso per suggerirti di tacere.
Tacere ti permette di illuderti che alcune cose non siano successe.
Ci sono storie che alcuni non vogliono sentirsi raccontare, preferirebbero chiuderle in un cassetto e dimenticare.
Io quel cassetto ho scelto di aprirlo.

Nota: il tipo di storia trattata potrebbe urtare la sensibilità di alcuni.



Per festeggiare questa bellissima, nuova cover, vi ripropongo la mia recensione.


Sono stata contenta di non aver letto trama e recensioni prima di leggere questo libro. Probabilmente se non fosse stato così non avrei provato quelle emozioni e quelle sensazioni  che mi ha trasmesso. Credo che la mia mente e il mio cuore ignorante si siano aperti più facilmente a questo racconto. Sì, perché la storia è forte, è una storia che richiedere coraggio per raccontarla. Ed Emiliano Di Meo coraggio ne ha da vendere. 

Tre le cose che mi hanno colpita, stupita ed emozionata: il fatto che uno dei protagonisti sia un travestito, la differenza d'età tra i due protagonisti e Roma.

Gennaro, imprenditore del sud, uomo maturo e di bell'aspetto, decide che quell'agosto si prenderà un bel mese di ferie e andrà a Roma, ospite del suo caro amico Massimo
Qui Gennaro vuole solo godersi la città e rilassarsi. Ciò a cui non è preparato è l'incontro con la bella Azalea, travestito e con la metà dei suoi anni. 

Azalea, ovvero Danilo, vive la sua sessualità con estrema naturalezza. Durante il giorno, al lavoro nel piccolo supermercato è Danilo, ma una volta fuori di lì è Azalea. 

Quando i loro sguardi si incrociano fuori da un locale, scatta la scintilla. Gennaro all'inizio forse è spinto dalla curiosità, ma l'attrazione che prova per Azalea è inequivocabile. Tra loro inizia un romantico corteggiamento e si troveranno ad amarsi appassionatamente, sapendo che quel mese dovrà essere vissuto al massimo, prima che Gennaro torni al suo paese e alla sua vita.

Di Gennaro mi colpito la sua personalità di uomo sicuro della sua mascolinità, la sua mente aperta e priva di pregiudizi. Certo si pone molte domande, nel suo cuore sorgono molti dubbi, ma non si lascia influenzare né dal giudizio del suo amico Massimo, né da quello che potrebbero pensare al suo piccolo paese del sud. In questa situazione, per lui nuova e inaspettata, si lascia andare, vuole esplorare, capire e seguire ancora una volta il cuore.

Azalea invece è giovane e vuole disperatamente trovare quella felicità che fino a quel momento sente di non aver trovato. Certo, ha trovato un equilibrio, ha trovato amiche che l'hanno accolta e accettata quando nemmeno la sua famiglia l'aveva fatto. Ma trovare un uomo e un amore vero? Lo ha creduto quasi impossibile. E poi arriva Gennaro, bello, galante, intrigante. 
Tra loro la differenza d'età sembra non esistere. Gennaro non prende certo la cosa alla leggera, ma non si rivela nemmeno un ostacolo. E quello che mi è piaciuto è che Azalea non vede Gennaro come un sostituto di un padre o di una figura maschile su cui appoggiarsi, come invece può capitare spesso in una situazione del genere. No, Azalea è indipendente, forte, sa camminare con le sue gambe, non ha bisogno di una guida, ha bisogno di amore e di un uomo con U maiuscola. 

Dove si pone Danilo in questo scenario? Danilo è sempre lì, con Azalea e con Gennaro. Anche lui ha la sua parte e nessuno dei due è intenzionato a escluderlo dalla loro relazione, tanto che alla fine Azalea e Danilo si fondono in un'unica creatura. 

E che atmosfera! Emiliano Di Meo, mi ha fatto vivere e respirare una Roma che solo una persona dall'animo sensibile e galante riesce a mostrarti. 
Le passeggiate solitarie di Gennaro e quelle fatte insieme ad Azalea, fanno sognare, sono romantiche e cariche di passione. 

E poi ci sono quei tre piccoli fiori dei velluto viola, che fin dall'inizio capisco che hanno un significato speciale per Gennaro. Solo che non capivo quale... fino al finale, che mi ha sorpresa.

Ho letto questo libro tutto d'un fiato e a tratti mi è sembrato di essere lì, in quella Roma estiva, e di camminare accanto a Gennaro e Azalea, e di accompagnarli in quel loro viaggio così speciale. E questo grazie alla scrittura di questo autore, che io trovo poetica. 

Libro consigliatissimo! Leggetelo con il cuore e con la mente.

L'AUTORE

Emiliano Di Meo vive a Roma ed esordisce nel 2013 come autore auto prodotto con Il Chiaroscuro Delle Cose.
A partire dalla sua prima opera sono subito evidenti i temi che gli sono più cari: l’introspezione dell’animo umano e il riconoscimento dell’amore come sentimento universale che non è più possibile imbrigliare nella distinzione tra i generi. Emiliano Di Meo contribuisce a dar voce ad una comunità come quella LGBT che ancora oggi si trova costretta a combattere per il pieno riconoscimento dei propri diritti.





martedì 14 novembre 2017

RELEASE BLITZ: He Loves Me...KNOT by RC Boldt

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He Loves Me...KNOT by RC Boldt 
is NOW AVAILABLE!
EBOOK-HeLovesMeNot


BUY IT NOW NOW:

 Amazon→ http://amzn.to/2zx51cC
iBooks→ https://goo.gl/srFqHa
Kobo→ https://goo.gl/pAF6Cu
Nook→ https://goo.gl/ouXHZR

HLMK- Teaser 4


Sometimes love needs a second chance… I never looked back after skipping out on my own wedding, even if it did leave me estranged from most of my family. Eight years later, I have the life I’ve always wanted. As an advertising account executive, my world is damn near perfect. Until I come face-to-face with my past. With the man I once loved. The man who holds my future in his hands. The man who’s hell-bent on getting even with me for leaving him at the altar. Even with all the unfinished business between us, I still love Knox Montgomery. The only problem? He loves me…KNOT.

HLMK -Teaser 2


About the Author

RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl. 

Email: rcboldtbooks@gmail.com
Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2iNvOqS 



HLMK-Teaser 6


mercoledì 8 novembre 2017

EXCERPT REVEAL: He Loves Me...KNOT by RC Boldt

EBOOK-HeLovesMeNot




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He Loves Me...KNOT by RC Boldt is coming soon on NOVEMBER 14th!
 Keep reading for an 

EXCERPT!

→ Add it to your GR TBR: https://goo.gl/eAco2g

→ Get notified when the Amazon preorder is LIVE: http://www.subscribepage.com/o9t9w8

PREORDER NOW: 
iBooks→ https://goo.gl/srFqHa
Kobo→ https://goo.gl/pAF6Cu
Nook→ https://goo.gl/ouXHZR

HLMK- Teaser 4


Sometimes love needs a second chance… I never looked back after skipping out on my own wedding, even if it did leave me estranged from most of my family. Eight years later, I have the life I’ve always wanted. As an advertising account executive, my world is damn near perfect. Until I come face-to-face with my past. With the man I once loved. The man who holds my future in his hands. The man who’s hell-bent on getting even with me for leaving him at the altar. Even with all the unfinished business between us, I still love Knox Montgomery. The only problem? He loves me…KNOT.


  HLMK -Teaser 2

EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE

EMMA JANE

“BLESS HER HEART.”
This—the quintessential Southern phrase “bless her heart”—is the ultimate kiss of death.
The irony isn’t lost on me since I just avoided my own kiss of death, figuratively speaking. Instead of walking down the aisle, I’m trudging along the Pensacola Beach boardwalk in my wedding dress.
Alone.
With tear-stained cheeks.
Two elderly women peer at me, blatant curiosity etched across their features, and one turns to the other to hiss, “I wonder if the groom left her.”
“Would you blame him?” the other woman responds, disdain dripping from her tone. “She’s got a”—she utters the next words much like they’re absolutely scandalous—“nose piercing.”
The dark glare I direct at them is concealed by my sunglasses, so with a dismissive huff, I continue plodding along, swiping a hand across my tear-streaked cheeks. Judging by the black smudges on my fingers, my waterproof mascara clearly lied.
Damn jackass mascara.
Damn jackass groom. I’m starting to see a trend here…
The longer I walk, the more stares I get. One little girl in a tutu bathing suit points to the top of my head and squeals with joy, “Look! A princess!”
Damn jackass tiara and veil my mother insisted I wear.
I march over to a large trash bin and—without any finesse whatsoever—begin tugging the pins holding this awful tiara-veil combo in place. As I’m attempting to remove it, agitation takes over due to my sad lack of progress. I bunch the veil in my fists and give it a firm tug from my elaborate up-do. Bobby pins shoot and ping in various directions, and I distractedly pray no one gets too close and loses an eye. Shoving the obscene length of fabric in the trash, I feel a bit lighter.
The June sun beats down on me as I stand on the stamped cement of the boardwalk, the heat radiating through the soles of my favorite flip-flops. My eyes flutter closed as I inhale a deep breath of the salty Gulf of Mexico air.
God, I love this beach. It’s always been one of my favorites, especially since it takes just under an hour to drive here from Mobile. The water is a gorgeous shade of blue-green, and the sand is perfectly white and free of pesky shells. Any other time, I’d be kicking off my flip-flops and running toward the surf. Now, though, I have different priorities: a stiff drink. Or ten.
Or twenty.
The challenge is finding a place where I might not draw attention—er, as much attention. I slowly survey the nearby choices of bars and restaurants lined up along the boardwalk; I scan and dismiss them one by one.
“No…no…no…n—”
Wait a minute.
One particular sign snags my eye. It has an outline of two men standing back to back, their forms filled with a swirl of rainbows and the name Be-Bob’s written in script-like font beneath it.
A gay bar.
Perfect.
With my key ring clipped to my small wristlet, I stalk over to the bar, doing my best to ignore the startled looks and gawking from other beachgoers. Tugging open the heavy door, I step over the threshold and into the brisk air conditioning.
Into a place where I might find slightly more acceptance.
I slide my sunglasses to rest atop my head and take a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. There are only about eight people scattered about, chatting over drinks. When I don’t earn more than a brief glance before they return to their own conversations, I breathe my first sigh of relief. Most of the patrons are likely indulging in the great weather and enjoying a Saturday at the beach, not looking for refuge and hiding out like I am.
I scan the framed photos that adorn the walls featuring local drag queens and scantily clad male models before striding over to the bar. I hoist myself up onto a worn leather bar stool, and catch the eye of the only bartender behind the counter. He appears to be taking inventory of the liquor, if his clipboard is anything to go by.
When he turns around and gets the full visual of me, his expression is priceless, his eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline. I’d laugh if I had it in me, but I’m emotionally spent.
As he regards what’s visible to him from the top of the bar on up to my hair, his light brown eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tip up slightly. Without batting an eye, he reaches below the counter and produces a wet wipe. I gratefully accept it and he rests his forearms upon the lacquered surface, regarding me with interest as I rid my cheeks of the dark mascara streaks.
The bartender waits until I’m finished and then accepts the wipe from me before tossing it into the trash.
“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever served a runaway bride before.” My makeup-fail savior appears to gauge me, as if expecting me to burst into a river of tears.
Funny enough, the drive here has expended me of those and I’m firmly entrenched in the anger stage of my fiancé’s betrayal.
I prop an elbow on the bar, rest my chin on my palm, and offer what I know is the weakest excuse for a smile. “There’s a first time for everything, right?”
He doesn’t immediately answer, eyeing me curiously until his lips stretch into an easy smile. His eyes do that little crinkly thing at the corners and he has what I call “kind eyes.”
Then again, I remind myself, what the hell do I know?
I’m clearly not the best judge of people. That much has become all too evident.
The bartender reaches out a hand. “Casey.”
I grasp his hand, noting his impressive manicure. This guy’s cuticles are better than mine and I love the shade of metallic gray polish on his nails. “Nice to meet you, Casey. I’m Emma Jane.”
He reaches beneath the bar and I hear a clinking as he scoops ice, before he brings a cup into view. Then he works his magic, and pours in a bit of this and that from one bottle to the next. Finally, with flourish—and a maraschino cherry tossed in—he slides the plastic cup across the smooth surface.
“It’s my special, secret mix. I call it”—he leans in toward me and lowers his voice, his eyes dancing with mischief—“the Panty Dropper.”
One of my brows arches as I stare back at him with dismayed skepticism. “I hardly think I’m a prime panty-dropping candidate right now.”
Casey lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, his eyes flickering over my shoulder before returning to me. His smile grows wider. “You never can tell.”
With a tiny laugh, I shake my head and wrap my lips around the straw to take a sip of the concoction he’s made me. Just as I swallow the sweet drink, I both feel and smell a person sidle up next to me at the bar.
Hell. The reason I came here was because I thought for sure my chances of getting hit on would be slim to none. But, as I glance at him from the corner of my eye, I observe strong, muscled forearms, tanned and sprinkled with dark hair. The scent of him is appealing and masculine, a cologne that doesn’t overpower. Just the sight of those arms alone, however, makes me incredibly wary to see the rest of him.
Casey doesn’t address the newcomer, his focus still on me. “I’m all ears, Emma Jane. Been told I’m a great listener.”
Good Lord. Where do I even start?
Before I can answer, the man speaks up, his deep voice booming. “Are you cheating on me, Case?” He makes what sounds like a gasp of exaggerated indignation. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”
I glance up to see Casey’s expression full of mirth, and he rolls his eyes. “You know better. I’m still waiting on you to switch over.”
A husky laugh greets my ears and it sounds far too male—far too appealing—which is why I refuse to turn and look at the man beside me.
“I might switch if you’d agree to root for my team.”
“Not gonna happen,” Casey scoffs before his gaze meets mine. “Isn’t that drink exactly what the doctor ordered?”
I muster up a smile because he seems like a sweet guy. “It is.” With a start, I realize I haven’t given him my card to pay or at least start a tab. I reach for my wristlet. “What do I owe you?”
He waves me off. “Honey, that one’s on me as long as you promise to dish before we get slammed in a few hours.”
A loud exhale spills past my lips. “It’s a pathetic story, really.”
“Let me guess.” Mr. Forearms’s husky voice is a deep timbre, amusement threaded in his tone. “You caught him with your maid of honor.”
I let out a harsh laugh and fiddle with my straw, using it to move around the ice cubes in my drink. “Nope.” If only it were that simple, I muse internally.
“Caught him with his best man?”
This time, his suggestion drags a lighter sounding laugh from me. “Not even.”
“Well, you know I can’t leave here without hearing the story. I’m intrigued.”
This guy is something else, that’s for sure. His voice is the epitome of sexy, and yet, even with all that’s transpired, I have zero interest.
Finally, I drag my attention from my drink and my eyes travel up those muscled forearms, over the bulging biceps stretching the short sleeves of a dark-blue polo shirt and up to the face that—
My breath catches in my throat as recognition floods me, my eyes widening as I take in the man beside me.
Becket Jones, the quarterback for the NFL team in Jacksonville, Florida. He’s a two-time Heisman Trophy winner from the University of Florida and had been the second overall draft pick by the Jacksonville Jaguars. Adding to that impressive resumé, he’s been recently voted MVP and is also a Lombardi Trophy recipient. His face is in commercials and on billboards everywhere. Living in Mobile, Alabama, and in a state without a pro football team, most of us either gravitate toward the Atlanta Falcons, the New Orleans Saints, or the Jacksonville Jaguars.
I don’t follow NFL as closely as college football, but I’d have to live under a rock to not recognize Becket and his pretty-boy face. Even beneath the brim of the ball cap, which curls under at the edges and draws shadows over his eyes, I’d recognize that wide charming smile of his anywhere. He’s slouching against the bar but I know he pushes well over six feet.
His features cloud as he observes my response, his large hand reaching up to tug his cap lower. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to sell some seedy story about seeing me in a gay bar to a stupid gossip rag.”
“Of course not. I’m just…” I falter for a moment, “surprised.”
His chin lifts, gesturing to a couple of guys standing nearby a jukebox, laughing and talking. One of them is wearing a shirt with bright pink flamingos printed on it, along with a yellow feather boa draped around his neck.
“I’m with my brother, Brantley—the one who insisted on that crazy getup—and his roommate, Vonn, whose birthday we’re celebrating.” His eyes flicker to them briefly, obvious affection in his gaze, before returning to me. “I drove in from Jacksonville late last night to join them.”
I nod politely, not sure what to say. “Well, I hope you guys have a great night.” I turn back to my drink and studiously take another sip of the dangerous concoction while acknowledging Casey and Becket’s attention is fixed on me with unfettered curiosity. This drink is deliciously sweet and I know it’s masking the copious amount of liquor Casey put in it. And I can’t get hammered. I should—and I really want to—but I can’t. I have bigger fish to fry.
Like figuring out my freaking life.
With a long sigh, I unzip my wristlet and withdraw my cell phone—whose ring had been silenced—to face the “music” I know is about to blare at me.
Let this be noted as mistake number one. Because I’m certain my phone is going to overheat from the number of text messages and missed calls I’ve received already. Mainly, the ones from my father.
Dad: You’d better get back here now, young lady.
I continue scrolling past all of his other messages until I get to the last one, time stamped from about five minutes ago.
Dad: Consider yourself disowned. Don’t even think of coming back to this house after the way you’ve embarrassed everyone.
Huh. Well, thank heavens I’d already thought of that and had made a quick stop at the house before driving here. I’d scooped up the items I’d need most, knowing my father’s reaction would be extreme. Maybe I was delusional, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
Just as I’m about to place my phone back in my wristlet and avoid the remainder of the painful messages sure to come, another one comes in.
Dad: Forget your job at the magazine. It’s done. You’re done. You did this, Emma Jane.
My chest tightens and my stomach churns sickly. I knew it was coming but it doesn’t make it any less devastating. I’d worked my ass off for Southern Charm Lifestyle magazine at their new location in Mobile. I know I have the potential to rise up in the ranks.
But now it’s gone. Poof. All because of my father. The one and only Davis Haywood, city councilman, owner of the local newspaper and the city’s largest magazine, and commercial developer galore. He has the money and power to make things happen in Mobile.
I just never thought he’d use that money and power against his own daughter one day.
“So.” Becket startles me, so caught up in my own drama-filled thoughts. “You might not know this about me, but I was brought up to be a gentleman.”
I regard him warily, unsure where he’s going with this. “O-kay,” I drag out the word slowly.
“This means I can’t leave you sitting at this bar, staring down at your phone, looking like your puppy just died.”
I shoot him a hard glare that would normally cause people to rear back…but then I recall that this man faces the risk of being tackled by two-hundred-plus-pound men on any given game day.
So, as much as my dangerously narrowed eyes might flare with the “Don’t even go there” vibe, my glare does nothing.
He looks around first before slipping his ball cap around on his head, the brim now at the back. And honestly, on any other grown man, it would look juvenile. On Becket Jones, however, it actually looks cute.
Casey slides a bottle of water to him, which Becket uncaps before downing half of it. Resting his arms on the bar, he playfully nudges me with his shoulder.
“Go ahead. Spill.”
Exhaling loudly, I peer up at him skeptically. “You really want—”
“To hear all the sordid details?” He grins at me, nearly blinding me with his pearly white teeth. “Absolutely.”
Shaking my head at him, I take another sip of my drink and toy with my straw, making the ice cubes clink together within my cup. “Fine. But don’t you dare give me a bless your heart that’s chock-full of pity.”
“Deal.”
Letting a long sigh loose, I answer, my voice muted and laced with pain. And I hate the way it sounds.
“I’m running from a man who doesn’t really love me.”

HLMK-Teaser 6

About the Author: RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl.

Email: rcboldtbooks@gmail.com
 Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2iNvOqS

martedì 7 novembre 2017

COMING SOON: MAN HANDS by Sarina Bowen & Tanya Eby


Title: MAN HANDS

Author: Sarina Bowen and Tanya Eby

Publication: December 11th 2017 by Rennie Road Books

Genre: RomCom



BRYNN
At thirty-four, I’m reeling from a divorce. I don’t want to party or try to move on. I just want to stay home, post a new recipe on my blog: Brynn’s Dips and Balls. 
But my friends aren’t having it. Get out there again, they say. It will be fun, they say. I’m still taking a hard pass. 
Free designer cocktails, they say. And that’s a game-changer. 
Too bad my ex shows up with his new arm candy. That’s when I lose my mind. But when my besties dare me to leap on the first single man I see, they don't expect me to actually go through with it. Literally.

TOM
All I need right now is some peace and quiet while my home renovation TV show is on hiatus. But when a curvy woman in a red wrap dress charges me like she’s a gymnast about to mount my high bar, all I can do is brace myself and catch her. What follows is the hottest experience of my adult life. 
I want a repeat, but my flying Cinderella disappears immediately afterward. She doesn’t leave a glass slipper, either—just a pair of panties with chocolate bunnies printed on them. 

But I will find her.




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