Tuesday, 17 January 2017

New Release Spotlight & Author Interview: Draw the Line by Kim Carmichael

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Draw the Line
By: Kim Carmichael
Released December 27, 2016
Kindle Press



The performance artist and con artist come together for the ultimate marriage of convenience.
Performance Artist, Argyle Brink, lives his life as one big art exhibit. No matter if he is hatching from a gilded egg to show his emergence as a new persona, or donning a suit of mirrors to reflect reality back to his audience, he never misses an opportunity to take a chance and stand by his convictions. Only one thing has eluded him…fame.
In order to save her family’s estate, Malone Summersfield must never return to England. After conning an art critic into taking her across the pond as his fiancĂ©e, she thinks her life will be smooth sailing. However, when the man’s wife enters the picture, she realizes the con is all on her, and she needs to get married now. When the strange, yet handsome, performance artist offers to marry her for the price of co-starring in his reality show, she figures she’ll give it a go and become a living art piece.
The show takes on a life of its own, gaining ratings from the sparks between the two stars. Airing everything from their dirty laundry, to public sex in an abandoned zoo, and even living off the grid in a micro house, nothing is off limits. However, when the INS decides to investigate their marriage further, and Argyle uses their predicament to broaden his art, Malone wonders if she will ever come first in his life.
With their marriage, their show, and her citizenship at stake, the two must decide if the ultimate truth lies in the art or in their love.
  AMAZON

 “Does everyone want a bagel?” While Judy was trying to not pay attention to the cameras, she spoke with an over exaggerated tone and nodded.
Yes, that is why we are sitting here. Get to it.” Sam lifted his fork and pointed at his wife.
Malone noticed no one touched the huge pile of fresh bagels. Though her stomach rumbled, she waited.
Bubbie stacked all the plates in front of her. She cut a bagel, put the cream cheese on it and then passed the dish to Judy.
Judy then unwrapped some brown paper holding a smoked fish. She peeled back the skin and proceeded to stick her fingers in the fish, squeezing each piece before placing it on the bagel.
Once the bagel was layered with the fish, she handed the plate to her husband. “Here it’s all squeezed.”
It’s only good after it’s been squeezed.” Sam lifted his bagel half. “L’chaim.”
Judy then proceeded to do the same with Argyle’s bagel.
Malone could only stare at the scene before her. Not only did Argyle not complain, he bit into the bagel as if it were some great delicacy. Well, she made a lousy wife—she never squeezed any of Argyle’s food before he ate it. Maybe she needed to pre chew it as well.
Judy went to plate three and began her bizarre ritual of squeezing the fish. “Ah ha!” She held up the thinnest of bones. “Look, this is why I have to squeeze the fish.”
Everyone around the table grunted or nodded.
This could get stuck in your throat, God forbid.” The fact the woman found a bone caused her to really put effort into the last few squeezes before handing Malone her plate.
They all echoed the God forbid.
Malone looked down at her bagel and over at her husband. The irritation of having his art interrupted seemed quelled by a bagel with squeezed fish. She only wished her mother could witness what just transpired. The woman would probably faint or drop dead, no God forbid required. Well, for better or worse or for squeezed fish, she was one of them and she took a bite. Smokey deliciousness coupled with the creamy cheese all delivered on a perfectly chewy bagel filled her mouth. Unsure if the taste sensation was due to the fish squeezing or not, all she knew was she would never take the chance to have fish that wasn’t squeezed. Maybe it made the flavors meld together or something.
Before she had the chance to finish her bagel, another half was put on her plate as well as a scoop of fruit. She supposed that made it healthy. In a show of solidarity, she lifted her bagel. “Long live squeezed fish.”
Judy and Bubbie both beamed at her.
So tell me about the graphics for the hospital newsletter.” Sam polished off a second bagel. “I have to get it on press.”
Must we talk about this right now?” Argyle shoved nearly a quarter of a bagel in his mouth.
You said to act normal. This is my normal question.” Sam shrugged.
Before she had the chance to shoot Argyle a look, show Sam the pictures she drew for the piece, or even say a word, another knock came at the door.
Her body trained, she tensed at the sound.
In a day of everything being electronic,” Argyle said in his performance voice, “it is refreshing to see a human touch now and again.” Argyle pushed back from the table and went to the door.
Registered letter for Malone Summersfield Brink.” An official voice interrupted her squeezed fish and her heart seized.
Sam threw down his napkin and twisted around in his chair. “Shouldn’t she be Malone Feinstein?”
The cameras turned toward the door.
Argyle signed for the letter and shut the door and held the letter up. “Mother, you asked about cameras before?”
On automatic and with her body heating, she stood. What did a registered letter mean? The good news was with a letter she would have time to react, plan properly.
Here’s proof that everyone, everything, every action is under scrutiny.” Argyle held his hand out to Malone.
She reached for her one lifeline. “What is it?”
With his normal drama, he managed to open the letter and give it a quick scan. Before she even had a chance to blink, he crumpled the page in his hand. “The Department of Immigration and Naturalization Services needs Malone and I to file more forms.”
At the mention of the feared agency, her stomach tumbled. The squeezed fish threatened to reappear in a not fit for film moment.
Forms.” Argyle dragged her over to the scale. “Applications, signatures. The world has this need to make things official. My wife and I got married, we have a license, and we will not be part of further red tape meant to complicate something so very simple.”
What did the INS want? What form? What happened if they didn’t fill it out? What happened if they did?
Balance!” He tossed the letter on the scale and slammed one of his weights on top of it. The dish slammed to the floor. “There has to be balance, and my wife and I are going to get that balance.”
Once more he lifted the letter, now crumpled mess, and tore it into a ton of little pieces. “We will remain balanced in our marriage because we are together.” He took her hand, led her to the window and tossed the pieces out. “Balance. That is art.”

Malone watched the pieces float away. She prayed her husband didn’t just risk everything for the sake of his art. Balance was one thing, but they were anything but balanced.
Kim Carmichael began writing twelve years ago when her love of happy endings inspired her to create her own. She has a weakness for bad boys and techno geeks, and married her own computer whiz after he proved he could keep her all her gadgets running. When not writing, she can usually be found slathered in sunscreen trolling Los Angeles and helping top doctors build their practices.


Q: Describe yourself in five words or less.
Crazy, quirky, anxious, creative, loyal.
Q: Can you tell us a little about your book?
It is my twist on the marriage of convenience trope. I love marriage of convenience as it gets the characters together quickly.
Q: How did you come up with the concept and the characters for the story?
Argyle was a secondary character in On The Dotted Line and I loved him so he got a story.
Q: What did you enjoy most about writing this book?
His family was my pride and joy I loved them.
Q: What gave you the most trouble with this story?
Malone’s back story, I had to make sure it made sense.
Q: If you had a theme song, what would it be?
Opportunities by the Pet Shop Boys
Q: Name one thing you won’t leave home without.
My cell phone.
Q: Name three things on your desk right now.
A salt lamp, a pair of Chanel sunglasses and my coffee cup.
Q: If you could trade places with anyone for just one day, who would you be?
Whoever is married to Josh Holliway. I guess Mrs. Holliway.
Q: What do you like to do when you aren't writing?
Play with my fur baby and shop.
Q: A la Twitter style, please describe your book in 140 characters or less.
The performance artist and con artist in the ultimate marriage of convenience.
Q: What types of scenes are your most favorite to write?
Ones where a bunch of chaos happens and its all ridiculous.
Q: What are you favorite types of stories to read?
Though I write contemporary romance I love historical romance because its totally different than what I write.
Q: What do you like best about being a writer? What is the most challenging part?
I love creating my own worlds and getting to share my characters lives.
Rejection is the hardest part.
Q: What do you do when you are not writing?
Think about writing.
Q: Is anything in your book based on real life experiences or purely all imagination?
This book, Argyle’s family is inspired by my family a little bit.
Q: Are there certain characters you would like to go back to, or is there a theme or idea you’d love to work with?
I love to work with Hollywood and pop culture.
Q: Do you have any advice to give to aspiring writers?
Never give up even if you think all is lost.
Q: Is there anything that you would like to say to your readers and fans?

Thank you so much for everything, I promise to always try to give you the story you are hoping for!
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Monday, 16 January 2017

Release Day Spotlight: The Rule Maker by Jennifer Blackwood

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The Rule Maker
The Rule Breakers #2
By: Jennifer Blackwood
Releasing January 16, 2016.
Entangled Embrace


The Rule Maker

The Rule Breakers Series

Ten Steps to Surviving a New Job:

1. Don’t sleep with the client. It’ll get you fired. (Sounds easy enough.)

2. Don’t blink when new client turns out to be former one-night stand.

3. Don’t call same client a jerk for never texting you back.

4. Don’t believe client when he says he really, really wanted to call.

5. Remember, the client is always right—so you can’t junk punch him when he demands new design after new design.

6. Ignore accelerated heartbeat every time sexy client walks into room.

7. Definitely ignore client’s large hands. They just mean he wears big gloves.

8. Don’t let client’s charm wear you down. Be strong.

9. Whatever you do, don’t fall for the client. You’ll lose more than your job—maybe even your heart.

10. If all else fails, see rule number one again.




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He scrubbed his palms over his face and rested his elbows on his knees. “This was not how I saw this night going.”

Big Valentine’s Day plans?”

He lowered his hands and looked at me like I’d just claimed I single-handedly caused the storm raging outside. “I didn’t even know that was today. Does this mean we’re each other’s valentines by default?”

I scoffed. “Not a chance.”

He chuckled. “Always so blunt. I like that about you.” He quickly cleared his throat as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “Well, non-valentine, looks like we’re going to be stuck here a while. Have anything in mind?” he said.

I decided against packing on another insult. He was being nice, and this sure as heck beat staring at the wall the rest of the night. “My form of entertainment is at 6 percent battery, so I’m open to suggestions.”

Mine is fully charged. Want to watch something?”

Sure.” What else did I have to do? Before I knew it, I was sitting on the bed next to him, leaning against the ornately carved headboard. Snow gusting against the window was the only sound in the room as he searched for a show for us to watch.

So quiet.

Way too quiet.

I fidgeted with my necklace, moving the small diamond back and forth on the chain. The last time I was in bed with Ryder… I didn’t even want to finish that thought, because it’d do nothing but make this situation worse. I chanced a peek in his direction.
He chewed the inside of his cheek, swiping through our options. “This is awkward, huh?” he said.

We’ve achieved Urkel status.”

He chuckled and scrolled through the show queue. “Would you rather watch Law and Order: SVU or Criminal Minds?”

That is quite possibly the worst Would You Rather question ever asked.”

His eyes cut to mine. “I didn’t know I was playing a game.”

You’ve never played it?”

He shook his head.

Lainey and I played this game all the time in college, and when we’d take road trips together. She always came up with the grossest ones. “It’s simple. All you have to do is ask the person which horrible thing they’d rather do. The harder the question, the better. Like would you rather lay in a pit of snakes, or eat questionably dead roadkill?” I pointed to his phone. “Oh, John Tucker Must Die. I like that one.

Negative, ghost rider.” He scrolled past my suggestion. “And what the hell does questionably dead mean? Is it still twitching, or are we talking suspicious cause of death?”

I shrugged. “The interpretation’s up to you.”

You’re absolutely no help.” He swiped his thumb across his beard and contemplated. “I guess I’d go with the snakes.”

Okay, now it’s your turn,” I said.

Do I really have to play? I thought we were picking a show.”

I shot him a look.

Fine. Would you rather have me or Chewbacca as your valentine?”

Too easy. The spider.”

He put his hand to his heart. “You wound me.”

Stop being such a baby.” I swatted at his chest and immediately pulled my hand back. Nope. Would not go there. “Okay, would you rather not be able to see or talk for a month?”

He answered instantly. “See.”

Right. You’d probably go nuts if you couldn’t open that big mouth of yours.”

His lips twitched. “You’re one to talk.”

Excuse me?” Okay, I did have a tough time keeping my thoughts on lockdown outside the office, but that was my own cross to bear.

Don’t even try to play it off like you’re innocent.”

I’d dated a lot of losers in the past, most who hadn’t even bothered to get to know me, but even after only hanging out a few times, Ryder had me pegged. He was perceptive. I saw the look in his eyes whenever I dealt with Jason. His attention focused solely on me was unnerving. “Jerk,” I sputtered.

Now I know you’re holding back. You can do way better than that.” He scrolled through his phone again. “How about Die Hard?”

Are all your show selections about death? I’m starting to worry I made a mistake coming over here.” My lips pulled into a smile and I quickly extinguished it. God, I wanted to hate him.

Fine.” He continued looking at the Netflix queue. “Would you rather eat sushi from a taco stand, or lick an airplane armrest?”

Good one. Sushi.” I pointed to his screen. “How about 10 Things I Hate About You?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Are all of your suggestions going to not-so-subtly tell me you hate me?”

I smiled sweetly. “Maybe.”

Just think, most people would find this to be a romantic escape. Two people, stuck in the mountains on Valentine’s Day,” he said.

We’re Hallmark movie material, all right,” I deadpanned.

Okay, fine. How about The Walking Dead?”

Your show picking powers have been officially revoked.” I grabbed the phone from his hand.

Hey!” He grabbed for the phone, and I held it out of reach. “You’re going to regret that.” Within seconds he was on top of me, playfully pinning me to the bed, his strong hands circling my wrists. Air evaporated from my lungs as our gazes connected.

I was immediately transported back to that night.

Tell me what you want, Zoey. Tell me what you need from me.

I swallowed hard. That was months ago, and those words still haunted me from time to time. Because he did exactly that, gave me what I wanted and needed. Repeatedly.

Jennifer Blackwood is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. She lives in Oregon with her husband, son, and poorly behaved black lab puppy. When not chasing after her toddler, you can find her binging on episodes of Gilmore Girls and Supernatural, and locking herself in her office to write.

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Thursday, 12 January 2017

New Release Spotlight: Clam Jam by R.C. Boldt

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Clam Jam
By: R.C. Boldt
Releasing January 10, 2017
Self-Published

Clam Jam
Definition: the female equivalent of a cock block.
Example: You’re chatting with a guy you’re interested in and your friend comes along and lays claim to him. 
Maggie
That’s my life—except it’s worse. My friend who keeps “jamming” me is my gay roommate and if that isn’t a W.T.F. moment, I’m not sure what is.
Fact: He went home with three—yes, three—of the guys I had been so sure were into me.
Fact: He’s really pissing me off. I mean, hello? I’m trying to get back in the saddle, but I’ll never manage to get a boyfriend before the age of fifty if he keeps this up.
Fact: Secretly, I wonder what it would be like if he weren’t gay. Why do all the hot, sweet, tender-hearted guys have to be gay?
Fact: My gay-dar needs a serious tune-up.
Ry
The day I interviewed for the room to rent, everything changed. I knew I had met “the girl”, except there was one small problem: she didn’t want anything to do with men. I recognized a top-notch force field when I saw one. She’d been burned badly and didn’t want to deal with a heterosexual guy as a roommate. I could’ve turned around and found another place to live, but I wanted to live there—with her.
So I had to go “undercover”. 
Fact: I’m in love with my roommate.
Fact: I’m a likely candidate for carpal tunnel surgery since all the action I’ve had for the past year has been my hand.
Fact: She’s going to hate me if I come clean now.
Fact: I’m not giving up. Which means, I’ll just have to continue to run defense until I figure out a way to get Maggie to see the “real” me. 
The me that loves her.
The me that would never do her wrong.
Until then, I’ll keep running off every guy who shows any interest. 
Until then, I’ll continue to Clam Jam. 
But she doesn’t want anything to do with men, Ry. What are you going to do? Just casually bring it up one morning that you’re actually hetero?” He scoffs, shaking his head at me. “I see that going over real well.”
I haven’t gotten that far but, this way, I can get to know her without all that shit getting in the way. The whole nervousness, the whole showing the other person your best at all times until you’re really committed and then it all comes out.”
And you’re going to do this by being dishonest from the get-go.”
Running my hands down my face, I let out a frustrated groan. “What was my other option? To let her go, to never have an opportunity to get to know her—to never get to be her friend, at the very least—without her feeling like I have any ulterior motives—”
Which you do.”
“—and be faced with the possibility of me being too late and another guy getting to her when she decides she’s ready to start dating again?”
I’d like to go on record and say that you’ve been watching too many damn chick flicks.”
Whatever.”
He’s silent for a moment, staring at me before his lips twitch, slowly forming a smirk. “So how long have we been together, love muffin?”
The breath I’ve been holding in comes out in a slow exhale. “For a while.” Holding up a finger, I add, “But we have an ‘open’ relationship.”
His eyebrows arch at that. “Why, you little player, you. Won’t commit to being monogamous, huh?” He tips his beer to his lips, takes a swig, and grins. “I bet I can convince you to be mine within a few months tops, pookie bear.”
I make a face, scoffing, “Not likely.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “You’ll be putting out before long. Mark my words.”
You’re not right.” I laugh, shaking my head at him.
You’re the one who’s pretending to be gay.”
Point taken.”
We both take a swig of beer and fall silent for a moment before Jack finally speaks.
Can’t say that I’ve ever pretended to be someone’s gay lover before.” His face stretches into a wide, toothy grin.
And, just like that, my best friend is officially involved in my game plan. All for the sake of a woman I’m convinced is “the one.”

Google Play: https://goo.gl/gdUjg7

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.



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Tuesday, 10 January 2017

New Release Spotlight: Falling for the Best Man by Amanda Ashby

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Falling for the Best Man
Sisters of the Wishing Bridge Farm #1
By: Amanda Ashby
Releasing: January 9, 2017
Entangled Bliss


He’s the best man and her secret fling—who said being a wedding planner was easy?
What's worse than running into your ex-hookup at the airport? When said 'hookup" is the best man for the most important wedding of your career, and he's on the hunt for a fake girlfriend. Between a hysterical bride and a wedding party gone wild, wedding planner Emmy Watson can’t afford any more disasters if she wants to save her beloved Wishing Bridge Farm. Which is why she puts the best man on lockdown. Unfortunately, he also happens to be the one guy who can make her forget everything except the way his kisses make her feel.
All Christopher Henderson needs is a fake girlfriend to convince his bosses that his bad boy reputation is a thing of the past so he can land his dream job. What better place to find said companion than at a wholesome vintage wedding. The only thing he didn't count on was seeing Emmy, the woman who dumped him. The one he hasn’t been able to get off his mind.
There's no denying the spark between them, but he’s a globetrotter and she’s a homebody, and falling in love is something neither of them has in their plans.

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Emmy,” he countered, trying not to be distracted by the delectable sight of her chest rising and falling. “One dance. That’s all I’m asking. For old time’s sake.”
Emmy’s lips twitched, and Christopher could almost see the two sides of her battling before the carefree smile he recognized from their time together in New York appeared. It changed the shape of her face and brought everything about their first meeting slamming into his mind. She stood up, so close that his skin prickled with desire.
Fine. One dance.”
Great.” He led her to the small wooden dance floor to the left of where the jazz band was playing. Lewis and Miranda were in the middle, and fanned out all around them were the rest of the bridal party, but all Christopher could see was Emmy.
The music pulsated around them, and even the pale yellow moon above swayed to the beat. He sucked in a breath and pulled her toward him. It was a mistake, and his lungs were filled with the smell of her freshly washed hair and the evening clematis climbing up the crumbling brickwork of the courtyard walls. His arms tightened around her waist, and her bunched, tense muscles seemed to relax as she melted into him. The rest of the world disappeared, and all he was conscious of was her pounding heart as it pressed against his.
This was the woman he’d met two years ago.
And it seems I’m just as helpless around her as I ever was. Which is either a good thing, or a very, very bad one. The verdict’s still out.
As if reading his mind, she turned her face up to him, a soft, suggestive smile tugging at her full mouth. Desire flared through him, and if they were anywhere else he would’ve kissed her without a second’s hesitation. He forced himself to return her smile and simply enjoy the way her body molded his.
It wasn’t until the lead singer announced the name of the next song Christopher even realized the music had stopped. Emmy was the first to recover, and she stepped away, her face flushed and her eyes not quite meeting his.
Um.” She licked her lips. “I’m not sure that was such a good idea.”
I hate to disagree with you, but I think it was an excellent idea. And one that should definitely be repeated. You can’t deny that there’s still something between us.” Christopher tried to pull her closer as the next song started, but she folded her arms firmly in front of her. Ironically, it highlighted the soft curves of her body.
At this rate I’m going to need a fire engine to cool me down.
I’m serious,” she insisted before letting out a soft sigh. “You’re right. There is still something between us, but there’s nowhere it can go. I want to save the farm, and you want to go visit every strange nook and cranny in the universe. Don’t you see? Nothing’s changed.”
My hair’s longer,” Christopher said, but it was obvious by the way Emmy had pushed her lips into two compact lines, she wasn’t in the joking mood. “I know you like to be organized, and I get that, but aren’t you over thinking this? I mean, shouldn’t we be having the fun first and then move on to the serious conversations about why it would never work?”
I’m sorry.” The muscles around her jaw tightened. “I think we should just be friends.”
Friends that do friendly things together? Like dancing?” he asked in a hopeful voice.
How about friends that help other friends ensure the groom’s brother doesn’t do anything he might regret?” she countered.
Christopher winced. Ouch. He’d been friend-zoned. Logically, she had a point. She hadn’t changed her mind, and he wouldn’t change his, which meant it was for the best.
If only someone could inform my body of the situation.


Amanda Ashby was born in Australia but now lives in New Zealand where she writes romance, young adult and middle grade books. She also works in a library, owns far too many vintage tablecloths and likes to delight her family by constantly rearranging the furniture.
She has a degree in English and Journalism from the University of Queensland and is married with two children. Her debut book was nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice award, and her first young adult book was listed in the New York Public Library Stuff for the Teen Age. Because she’s mysterious she also writes middle grade books under the name, Catherine Holt and hopes that all this writing won’t interfere with her Netflix schedule.


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