Tag Archives: British MC

Release Blitz: Love Imperfection by Evie Snow

Love Imperfection | Evie Snow

Evangeline’s Rest #2

Publisher: Exile Publishing

Release Date: January 21, 2020

Subgenre: Romantic Comedy

Buy Links:

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07ZVNM8YF

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/love-imperfection/id1485913163

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ww/en/ebook/love-imperfection

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-imperfection-evie-snow/1134592024

Love Imperfection cover

Blurb

Beth Poole’s got the wrong ticket to the right life…

English dog trainer Beth Poole is having trouble getting her life back together after beating a life-threatening illness and divorcing her husband. When her Aussie-soap-obsessed grandma sends her to Australia to recover, it seems a great opportunity for some rest and relaxation while she figures out what’s next.

But when Beth arrives in Australia things get off to a rocky start. To begin with, she’s on the wrong coast and there are deadly creatures everywhere. And if that weren’t enough, her neighbors are driving her crazy. She’s staying in the beautiful Margaret River wine region, right next door to a family-owned vineyard.

It should be perfect, but the boisterous Hardy clan just don’t seem able to leave her alone. The usually reserved Beth is soon reluctantly embroiled in their family disputes and romantic entanglements. And eldest son Clayton Hardy is proving surprisingly persistent.

The more Beth gets to know Clayton, the more she sees what she wants for her future. But as the end of summer approaches, her past comes back to haunt her and tests her newfound relationship with Clayton to the limit.

Blurb Graphic

Excerpt

“Do you . . . do you want to come in for another bad coffee?” she asked abruptly, her voice uncharacteristically loud in the night silence.

“Ah. Beth. Normally yeah, but I have to get back to help clean up,” Clayton replied gruffly, appearing genuinely regretful. “I’d love to but—”

“It would be the euphemism sort,” Beth blurted, her voice still unnaturally loud. “Sex coffee. No, sex not coffee. Hopefully not bad.”

Clayton’s eyes widened. “Come again?”

“Sex?” The word was a sort of squeak. “There’s, ah, there’s something I want to talk to you about first, but after that . . . if you still want to, definitely sex.” The painful heat of embarrassment burned a fiery trail from her toes to the roots of her hair. It burned even hotter when Clayton didn’t reply. Silence filled the car while he stared at her in the dark.

“Or we could just have bad coffee?” she amended weakly.

Clayton cleared his throat loudly. “No. No. Sex would be great.”

“Oh. Really? Alright. Good.” She quickly opened her door before Clayton could do it for her and scrambled out of the Jeep. She didn’t want to be that close to him yet. Not until they’d talked about things. Without looking back she scampered around the cottage and frantically searched in her handbag for her key, only managing to get the door open and the lights on when two large warm hands firmly grasped her hips from behind.

About the Author

Evie Snow is the pen name for a globe-trotting writing team comprising of Georgina (George) Penney and Tony (The Kraken) Johnson.

George does the actual writing and reads far too many books. In the past, she was well on the way to a contemporary history PhD when moving to Saudi Arabia re-introduced her to a love of writing fiction.

Tony manages plot wrangling and is in charge of caffeine distribution. He once spent twenty years working globally as a petroleum engineer and found the oil industry to be far stranger than fiction.

Together, George and Tony have lived in a bunch of countries including Australia, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Brunei Darussalam and Scotland. They’re currently on a world-traveling adventure, writing books, seeing all the sights, eating all the food and patting as many critters as possible.

Social Media

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/evie.snow/

Newsletter: https://eviesnow.net/head-over-heels-newsletter/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/eviesnowauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EvieSnowWrites

Giveaway

Win one of 10 ebook-copies of Love Imperfection by Evie Snow

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Release Blitz: Salute to the Stud by Beth Laycock

Salute to the Stud | Beth Laycock

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Publisher: Rainbow Romance Press

Release Date: February 21, 2019

Subgenre: Contemporary Romance

Order here: Amazon only.

UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07NGRFKG9

US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NGRFKG9

The novella will be only $0.99 on ebook during release-week and tour, February 21-27!

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Blurb

Jasper is licking his wounds in paradise after being dumped, according to his ex, for someone more adventurous. The romantic Hawaiian getaway for two he booked hadn’t featured his sister as his plus one, but sometimes real life sucks.

For the two weeks he’s there his plans include hot dates with a sun lounger and working his way through the local craft beers. Nothing more.

Until he receives a sext from a wrong number. A mystery yoga instructor offering a private session to teach him the plow, and maybe even get plowed. Jasper’s never had a hookup with anyone before, but perhaps it’s time to prove his ex wrong.

One night with Tamal, no matter how hot it is, isn’t enough, yet that doesn’t change the fact this thing between them can’t last. Because time is running out. Jasper has to leave, has to return to London and real life.

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Excerpt

I had talked myself in then out of meeting up a thousand times. Then back in, because I wanted to see Tamal again – more than I probably should. But then the thought of seeing him again – of what we might do – had my breaths coming far too quickly and my skin itched like it had been stretched too thin. I knew nothing about the man I was meeting apart from the yoga and plowing bit if Tamal and the sexter were one and the same person. If they were then I was worrying unnecessarily because Tamal had been… A sigh escaped as the word ‘everything’ flittered through my mind. Stupid, getting carried away, and I

didn’t know what to wear. What if Tamal expected to give me an actual yoga lesson? What if I’d misunderstood the whole conversation?

My sister texted me to let me know she was having a great time at the waterfalls. So I texted her I was going out for a wander down the beach and would see he in the morning. Not a complete lie but not the whole truth. But some things my sister didn’t need to know.    

My bare feet sank into the sand as I strolled along the water’s edge. The waves crept up the beach and lapped at my feet. Goosebumps erupted up my legs, the water cool now the sun had disappeared. The tops of the waves glinted where the moonlight caught them, and a few stars twinkled like they were winking at me and in on my secret. The further I wandered the quieter the sounds of the hotel became, to be replaced by the quiet rush of the sea and the high-pitched whistle of the frogs calling to each other that I still hadn’t got used to.

Once I passed the bar lounge, there was nothing but palm trees and beach until the sand disappeared beneath a stretch of rocks. I climbed over them to find a single wooden shack with a coconut-style thatched roof, and the only thing visible in the secluded cove. If it hadn’t been for the window that glowed brightly against the inky night sky I’d have thought it was abandoned.

I hesitated. In or out? Told myself it was like a gay rite of passage – had to have at least one hookup in my dating life. And I wanted to see Tamal again. Fuck it. I strode up the beach like I owned the goddamned place. Like I would have done before Sam. Fake it till you make it, right?

About The Author

Beth Laycock’s books are influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the North of England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.

As a teenager, she attempted to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It wasn’t until she discovered the MM genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling them down since.

Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she can turn caffeine into words.

When not writing or reading, Beth can be found procrastinating on social media or being dragged around the English countryside by her dog Freddie.

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Author links:

Instagram: www.instagram.com/bethlaycockwrites

Facebook: www.facebook.com/beth.laycock.writes

https://www.facebook.com/bethlaycockauthor/

https://www.facebook.com/groups/2188017221465443

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18580707.Beth_Laycock

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BethLaycock_

Website: https://bethlaycock.com

Newsletter: http://bethlaycock.com/newsletter

Pinterest: www.pinterest.co.uk/BethLaycockAuthor

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/beth-laycock


Giveaway

Win a $10 Amazon gift card + an ebook copy of Miracle On Three Kings’ Day by Beth Laycock.

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Review Tour: The Sinner & The Saint by RJ Scott

The Sinner & The Saint | RJ Scott
Ellery Mountain #8

RTBanner
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
Length: 40,000 words approx.
SinnerSaint400
 Ellery Mountain Series
 

 Blurb

Army medic Ben Rockwell is in Ellery to work with the Veterans Center creating a new specialist unit for post trauma care. Desperate to make amends for battlefield decisions he regrets, he is focused on the unit and nothing else.

Until some stranger moves in next door and throws him a curveball. He’s no hero, even though everyone says he is, and the lies burn inside him.

Leaving drama and chaos in his wake, Nicholas Merrick fled London and is hiding out in his friend Jason’s house, until everything back home dies a death. The choices he made in his life were to keep his best friend safe, but as a result everyone sees him as the bad guy.

When these two meet, the attraction is instant. Can they ever be their true selves, and find love as a result?

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Loud banging, with added yelling, pulled Nick out of a nightmare. After a restless, irritable, crunchy-messy night of tossing and turning, he had finally fallen asleep some time before dawn, and now at fuck o’clock in the morning there was knocking at the front door. And some asshole shouting words that he couldn’t make out. Was this part of his dream? He couldn’t tell.

For the longest time he lay flat on his back, unwilling to move. The sheets were wrapped around him like a mummy, the quilt on the floor, and he was still in that half world between nightmare and reality. Even closing his eyes didn’t help dispel the vivid images of him walking up to the Oscar podium completely naked and with the Queen pointing and laughing at him.

Naked as the day he was born, hanging loose and free, and no one saying a thing. Apart from the laughing that was. Like it was okay that one of the Oscar nominees was walking up the steps free of any and all clothing.

Not to mention no one commented on the Queen throwing popcorn at him.

Yep, it had been that kind of nightmare, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had it. And where the Oscar fear came from he didn’t know. There would never be a chance of an Oscar. Not for the guy whose acting career had happened by accident and formed only because of a personal rebellion against his straight laced family.

His resume included two sequels to the highly profitable, but formulaic, shit-bad, Angels of Bedlam franchise, with his entire fee going charity because he didn’t need the money.

Nick hadn’t been in the first UK funded Bedlam film. Said film had been praised for its ingenious twist on a dark horror romance. No, he was the handy British villain in the next two, the studio cashing in on any money that was left out there in a saturated market by ticking all the boxes. Explosions, tick. Strong, but mostly naked, female lead, tick. Sexy down on his luck, in the wrong place at the wrong time, male lead, tick.

And him, the ubiquitous bad guy with the English accent.

The follow up were certainly not Oscar material, and once Nick pulled his fragmented sleep-addled thoughts into line, he focused on the statistical likelihood of even being nominated for an Oscar in the first place, let alone accepting it naked.

“Fuck me,” he muttered to the empty room and rolled onto his front. The banging had stopped and no one actually knew he was here, so, he wasn’t going to answer the door in a place that wasn’t even his.

Jason McInnery and his husband, Kieran, lived in this stunning home, in the small town of Ellery, Tennessee. Glass floor to ceiling, wide open rooms, a pool in the garden, and the most comprehensive jungle gym he’d ever seen for Jason and Kieran’s son, Jonas.

Even the damn guest room was beautiful, a huge wood carving took up nearly one wall, and the view from the window out to the mountain was stunning. At least that was the adjective he was supposed to use for what he could see. Objectively, he could see it was spectacular, but was too lost in confusion since he got here to think about it too much.

A quick glance at the clock showed him it was five am, like midnight or something back in London, and still dark in the shadow of the mountain, so he rolled over and pulled the covers up to his neck.

Even in the middle of the chaotic remnants of his nightmare he welcomed the heat that cocooned him and willed the knocking to stop. Which it did. The mess of dreams forgotten, he drifted on as many good thoughts as he could muster and was very nearly asleep when the banging started up again.

He groaned and hid his face under the pillow, willing the person creating the noise to go away. Then it ceased again, and he closed his eyes, but didn’t remove the pillow. Dawn was too close now and the room would fill with light because he hadn’t even taken the time to pull the drapes.

Unfortunately, his bladder had other ideas about what he needed to do, and cursing, he grabbed the sheets and untwisted himself. Feet planted on the floor he scrubbed a hand over his face, the untamed beard was just another reminder of everything that was horribly wrong about his life right now.

Normally he would have just the right amount of stubble, but the last instalment of Angels of Bedlam, cunningly entitled, Bedlam Adrift, called for him to be a castaway, hence the beard, which he’d left to tangle.

No point in worrying about it anyway. He’d left London to get away from paparazzi, and their incessant need for more, and he was in unofficial hiding. Therefore, no one would see his beard, or his bloodshot eyes.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror.

“Jesus, you look fucked.”

Bedhead. Bags under his eyes. Beard. It was a whole cacophony of B-shit. Yawning widely, he padded across the bedroom to the half bath, emptying his bladder and washing his hands. He’d gone to bed as nature intended. Well, warm nature anyway, completely naked, which probably led to nightmare.

Packing back home had been done in less than five minutes, his priority was money, passport, his phone, his laptop and associated chargers. It seemed like his messed-up head hadn’t thought any kind of pajamas were needed, or indeed underwear.

The next choice was shower or bed, and the exhaustion of the past few days, the media attention, making sure Heather was okay, fleeing the UK, ending up here in the middle of rural Tennessee, it was all too much and he sighed.

“Bed it is,” he muttered to his reflection. As soon as he woke up he was going online to order everything he’d forgot to pack. Jason had said to help himself to anything he needed but helping himself to his friend’s clothes didn’t feel right.

He yawned again, and stepped out into the cooler bedroom, eyes only half open.

“Hands where I can see them,” someone shouted, and Nick, startled, his heart pounding, fell backwards into the bathroom, catching himself on the jamb as best he could. He blinked to focus on the man in front of him.

The cop.

The gun.

The cop holding a gun on him. Immediately he raised his hands, and then lowered them to cover his junk, and then raised them again when the cop didn’t move.

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RJ’s goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

RJ is the author of the over one hundred novels and discovered romance in books at a very young age. She realized that if there wasn’t romance on the page, she could create it in her head, and is a lifelong writer.

She lives and works out of her home in the beautiful English countryside, spends her spare time reading, watching films, and enjoying time with her family.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit and has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.

She’s always thrilled to hear from readers, bloggers and other writers. Please contact via the following links below:


Email RJ (rj@rjscott.co.uk)

Goodreads Page

RJ’s Blog

RJ on Twitter

Facebook

Library Thing Page

Tumblr (some NSFW (not safe for work) photos)

Pinterest

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