Excerpt Blitz – Give Me A Reason, A.L. Jackson
August 19, 2021 | Posted in Cover Reveal | By Two Book Pushers
Give Me a Reason
A Single-Dad, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance from A.L. Jackson
Coming August 30th
“Speaking of hot guys…” She angled her head in the direction of a white Porsche Panamera that pulled into the parent pick-up line on the other side of the wrought-iron fence. “There he is.”
And I wondered if I was seeing things.
Hallucinating.
If this was some kind of cruel, sick joke or if I’d just done something really terrible in another life and this was my punishment.
Because there was no mistaking the smoldering eyes staring me down through the windshield where he came to a stop at the curb.
The way shock blanched his unbearably gorgeous face before his jaw clenched in what appeared hatred.
Or maybe glee.
With the man, I was sure they were one and the same.
My hand tightened on the child’s.
Instinctual.
A gut reaction to protect him.
Shivers raced. This unsettled feeling that something was coming. Something I didn’t understand, but something I should fear.
The man climbed from the driver’s seat of the flashy car that I wouldn’t have thought would fit him at all but somehow right then looked like the perfect accent piece.
He straightened to his full, menacing height.
“There he is! There he is!” The child started jumping up and down and waving his hand in the air. “Hi, Dad, hi! Over here!”
That seething intensity flashed through the air. My head spun and my knees knocked, my mouth going dry.
Trent Lawson strode toward the gate, all dark swagger and don’t-give-a-shit attitude, even though there were at least fifteen signs asking parents to stay in their cars and their children would be escorted out.
I got the sense the man wasn’t exactly one to follow the rules.
Because there he was, dressed a lot like he’d been last night, black jeans and a black v-neck tee and black boots that were unlaced. All that exposed, inked flesh somehow appeared obscene.
I had the urge to wrap the child up and take him into hiding. Run to the rest of the children and usher them to safety.
Emergency evacuation.
But I just stood there.
Dumbfounded.
Finally, I mumbled, “That’s your dad?”
Gage Lawson.
Of course.
This really was some cruel, sick joke, and I was the very brunt of it.
“Yep! That’s him.” Gage was jumping and pointing. “Tell him I got an A, Miss Murphy! He’s gonna be so proud!”
Trent Lawson strode toward the gate with the clear intention of barging in.
Finally, I found my voice, calling out before he made it through the barrier. “Sir, you need to wait in your car. School isn’t over for a couple minutes, and we will bring your child to you. Parents aren’t allowed in this area without signing in at the office first.”
With his hand on the gate latch, he paused, an arrogant smirk ticking up like a threat at the corner of that plush mouth. “That so?”
I lifted my chin, still clutching his son’s hand. “Yes.”
He eyed me as if I were the enemy. “So, let me get this straight. I pay an ungodly amount of money for my son to come here, and you get to tell me when I can and cannot pick him up?”
“You’re paying for your child’s education, Sir, not for me to order you around.”
“Huh…would have been mistaken.”
My chin lifted higher. “It seems you are very, very mistaken.”
A war waged in the exchange. That same tension that had existed last night clear and present, his outright animosity unchanged. But there was something else lining it, too.
As if I’d gained some sort of power as we stared each other down.
“You’ve got to wait, Dad! I told you I got to get all the As, and you’re gonna ruin it by not followin’ the rules. Sheesh.”
Tessa giggled beside me.
One second later, the bell rang. It jarred me out of the trance the man held me under, my entire being jolted with the sound, as if time had been set to pause and it’d begun to speed to catch back up.
Children screeched their excitement and ran to grab their bags that were lined up against the wall.
“Please remain in your car tomorrow,” I called out, the words roughened shards as I reluctantly released Gage’s hand.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he returned, just as smug and cocky and infuriating as he’d been last night.
Gage went running that way, that giant backpack bouncing all over. He glanced at me, running backward for two steps, nothing but grins and belief. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to see you tomorrow, Miss Murphy!”
When the child made it to him, Trent stretched out a hand for Gage to take.
For a flash, his entire demeanor shifted when he looked down at the child and the child smiled up at him.
Soft. Kind. Protective.
I had to be seeing things.
Then he turned to leave on those ridiculous boots, but not before he tossed out from over his shoulder, “See ya soon, Kitten.”
Anger rushed, my cheeks hot and my pulse wild and that irrational rage taking hold.
All mixed up with that feeling.
That impossibility.
They walked back to the Porsche, and I remained rooted to the spot as he helped Gage into the backseat and into a booster before he rounded the front of the car and slipped into the driver’s seat.
The man glared at me before he tossed his car back into drive and pulled from the curb.
Fingernails curled into my upper arm. “Holy shit, Eden Jasmine Murphy,” Tessa hissed. “What was that? And you better fess it up now, because I can already feel your denial coming on, and there is no denying whatever the heck that was.”
She waved a turbulent hand through the air as if she could capture that feeling.
Something unattainable but real.
“That?” I let my eyes follow the car that whipped out of the drive far too fast. “That was my new boss.”
GIVE ME A REASON SURPRISE RELEASE BOX – reserve yours or an individual signed paperback here: PRE-ORDER HERE
Can’t wait for the release? Be sure to vote for GIVE ME A REASON as one of your most anticipated August reads on Goodreads!
“Pure, unadulterated fire. Trent and Eden have a connection that is so rough and beautiful you can feel it bleeding off the pages! You’re not going to want to miss this one!”
— NYT Bestselling Author, Molly McAdams
Want a Signed Paperback or Give Me Release Box? PRE-ORDER HERE
GIVEAWAY
Signed Set of The Falling Stars Series Paperbacks
Want a Signed Paperback or Give Me Release Box? PRE-ORDER HERE
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, and FALLING STARS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, GIVE ME A REASON, releasing August 30th!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletter http://smarturl.it/NewsFromALJackson or text “aljackson” to 33222 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.
Connect with A.L.
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Twitter: @aljacksonauthor
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9th Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Book Fundraiser benefiting the Keith Milano Memorial Fund at the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.
May 13, 2021 | Posted in Cover Reveal | By Two Book Pushers
Welcome the 9th Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Book Fundraiser benefiting the Keith Milano Memorial Fund at the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention
Here is how you can help raise money and awareness for mental health
📘 Purchase a book from the amazing books listed below! We hope you will #1click4charity a number of these amazing books! The portion of sales is from ANY platform: digital, print, and audio.
📘 If you have read one of the wonderful stories included, gift a copy to a friend who might love it!
📘 Share the image below or any of the custom photos the participating authors share on social media to raise awareness and to show your support.
📘 In this digital age, COMMENTS are currency so as you see these images PLEASE Comment
📘 Make a tax-deductible donation directly to the Keith Milano Memorial Fund at AFSP.
Thank you in advance for your support as we work to bring mental illness out of the darkness
9th Annual Mental Health Awareness benefiting the Keith Milano Memorial Fund
|
Author |
Book |
Kindle |
iBooks |
Audio |
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Alice Archer |
Everyday History |
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—- |
The Infinite Onion |
n/a |
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Alison G Bailey |
Evie Interrupted |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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Aly Stiles |
The Hold Me Series |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Night Shifts Black (#1) |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Tracing Holland (#2) |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Viper (#3) |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Limelight (#4) |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
An NSB Wedding (#5) |
KU – Amazon only |
||
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—- |
The Save Me Series |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Rising West (#1) |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Falling North (#2) |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Breaking South (#3) |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Crashing East (#4) |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Haunted Melody: A Ghost Story |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Young Love |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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Aly Stiles & Hazel James |
Guarding Shadows (#5) |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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Amy Lane |
Winter Ball Trilogy |
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—- |
Winter Ball |
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—- |
Summer Lessons |
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— |
Fall Through Spring |
n/a |
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Brenda Rothert |
Chicago Blaze series |
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— |
Anton |
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— |
Luca |
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— |
Victor |
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— |
Knox |
n/a |
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— |
Alexei |
n/a |
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— |
Easy |
n/a |
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— |
Jonah |
n/a |
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— |
Kit |
n/a |
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— |
Olivier |
n/a |
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Carly Phillips |
Just One Night |
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Cindy Tanner |
When you Were Mine |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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— |
Mine for Now |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Say You’ll Be Mine |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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ES Carter |
Favourite Hello. Hardest Goodbye |
n/a |
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Ginger Scott |
The Waiting Series |
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— |
The Falling Series |
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—- |
The Varsity Series |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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— |
The Harper Boys Duet |
n/a |
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—- |
The Like Us Duet |
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Helena Hunting |
Little Lies |
KU – Amazon only |
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J.R. Gray |
Lost Love |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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K Bromberg |
Flirting with 40 |
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Karen Booth |
Grey Hair Don’t Care |
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Kelly Jamieson |
You Had Me at Hockey |
n/a |
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Kelly Jensen |
Let’s Connect |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Let’s Go Out |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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Laurelin Paige |
The Dirty Duet Bundle |
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— |
Dirty Filthy Rich Men |
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—- |
Dirty Filthy Rich Love |
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Leylah Attar |
Moti On the Water |
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ME Carter |
The Hart Series Box Set |
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Change of Hart |
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Hart to Heart |
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Matters of the Hart |
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Matters to Me |
n/a |
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Matters to You |
n/a |
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Melanie Harlow |
Unforgettable |
KU – Amazon only |
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Melanie Moreland |
Vested Interest Series |
KU – Amazon only |
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— |
Bentley |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Aiden |
KU – Amazon only |
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—— |
Maddox |
KU – Amazon only |
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—— |
Reid |
KU – Amazon only |
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—— |
Van |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Halton |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Sandy |
KU – Amazon only |
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—- |
Vested Interest; ABC Corp |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
Merry Vested Wedding |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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—- |
My Saving Grace |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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Natasha Madison |
The Only One Series |
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—- |
Only One Kiss |
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— |
Only One Chance |
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—- |
One One Night |
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—- |
Only One Touch |
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Nicole Edwards |
Brantley Walker: Off the Books Series |
n/a |
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— |
All In |
n/a |
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— |
Without a Trace |
n/a |
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—- |
Hide & Seek |
n/a |
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— |
Deadly Coincidence |
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—- |
Alibi |
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Piper Rayne |
Wild Steamy Hook-Up |
|||
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Rebecca Yarros |
Point of Origin |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
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Roan Parrish |
Invitation to the Blues |
KU – Amazon only |
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Sawyer Bennett |
The Rise of Fortune and Fury |
n/a |
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Sierra Simone |
American Queen |
KU – Amazon only |
||
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Toni Aleo |
Hard Hit |
KU – Amazon only |
n/a |
⭐ Keith Milano Memorial Fund ⭐
140 Adams Ave, Suite B-12
Hauppauge, NY 11788
Watch to learn more about the Milano Sprung Family’s mission
Fund Information:
The Keith Milano Memorial Fund was established to help raise awareness about the devastating and deadly disease that is mental illness. Keith’s spirit and laughter are kept alive through our efforts to increase awareness about mental illness and to raise money for education and imperative research. Keith often struggled with society’s perception of mental illness. Our hope is that by having the strength to say that Keith was “Bipolar” we can strip away the stigma and help others to be more open about their disease.
Watch to learn more about the Milano Sprung Family’s mission
The Keith Milano Memorial Fund benefits the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). At the end of the event, participating authors pay AFSP directly.
AFSP is the only national not-for-profit organization exclusively dedicated to understanding and preventing suicide through research and education, and to reaching out to people with mood disorders and those affected by suicide. AFSP is a fully accredited 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization incorporated in the state of Delaware with primary offices in New York City. Federal tax ID # is 13-3393329.
Cover Reveal, Excerpt & *Giveaway* – Reel, Kennedy Ryan
May 5, 2021 | Posted in Cover Reveal, Excerpt, Giveaway | By Two Book Pushers
Reel, Kennedy Ryan’s new breathtaking standalone romance set in the glamorous world of film and theater, is coming June 8th, and we have the beautiful cover and your first look!
Award-Winning Wall Street Journal Bestselling author Kennedy Ryan launches a brand new series with a Hollywood tale of wild ambition, artistic obsession, and unrelenting love.
One moment in the spotlight.
For months I stood by, an understudy waiting in the wings, preparing for my time to shine. I never imagined he would watch in the audience that night. Canon Holt. Famous film director. Fascinating. Talented. Fine. Before I could catch my breath, everything changed. I went from backstage Broadway to center stage Hollywood. From being unknown, to my name, Neevah Saint, on everyone’s lips. Canon casts me in a star-studded Harlem Renaissance biopic, catapulting me into another stratosphere.
But stars shine brightest in the dead of night. Forbidden attraction, scandal and circumstances beyond my control jeopardize my dream. Could this one shot—the role of a lifetime, the love of a lifetime—cost me everything?
Reserve your copy today! Amazon: https://amzn.to/3xwekW8 Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/Reel Apple Books: https://apple.co/3dWwUyG Kobo: https://bit.ly/2QCKcHS Nook: https://bit.ly/3nsKKfr Google Play: https://bit.ly/3gHMDUc Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2RpXgAe Barnes and Noble Paperback: https://bit.ly/3nsKKfr
➜ Enter the Goodreads Giveaway! Kennedy is giving away 10 Signed Reel Paperbacks! http://bit.ly/REELGoodreadsGive
➜ Follow Hollywood Renaissance series on Instagram: @TheHollywoodRenaissanceSeries
Keep reading for the very first excerpt from Reel!
When the show reaches its climax, at the very end, the song pries the final note from my diaphragm, pulls it from my throat and suspends it—leaves it throbbing in the air. The theater goes quiet for the space of a breath held by 800 people and then explodes. Applause. The relief is knee-weakening. I literally have to grab John, the lead actor’s arm for support. He doesn’t miss a beat, pulling me into his side and squeezing. “Bravo,” he whispers, a broad, genuine smile spread across his face. The last song made me cry, and my face, still wet from those tears, splits into a wide, disbelieving grin. I did it. I survived my first Broadway performance. The lights drop and we rush backstage, a cacophony of laughter and chatter filling the hidden passageways. When the curtain call begins, the cast return to the stage in small waves, the applause building as the principals take their bows. And then it’s my turn. On legs still shaky, I leave the safety of the wings, the long skirt of my costume belling out around me. I take center stage. The applause crescendos, approval vibrating through my bones and jolting my soul. Someone thrusts flowers into my arms and the sweet smell wafts around me. Every sense, every molecule of my being strains, opens, stretches to absorb this small slice of triumph. I can’t breathe deeply enough. The air comes in shallow sips, and I’m dizzy. The world spins like a top, a kaleidoscope of colors and light and sound that threatens to overwhelm me. The whirl of it makes me giddy, and I laugh. Eyes welling with tears, I laugh. These are the moments a lifetime in the making. We toil in the shadows of our dreams. In the alleys of preparation and hard work where it’s dark and nothing’s promised. For years, we cling by a thread of hope and imagination, dedicating our lives to a pursuit with no guarantees. But tonight, if only for tonight, it’s all worth it. I’m still floating when Takira bursts into the dressing room. “Neevah!” she screams, throwing her arms around me and rocking me back and forth. “You did it. You chewed that performance up and spat it out. You hear me?” I laugh and return her squeeze, new tears trailing down my cheeks. “Thank you.” I pull back to peer into my friend’s face. “I can’t believe it.” “Well, believe it. You served notice.” She snaps her fingers and grins. “Neevah Saint is here.” “Now to do it seven more times.” I laugh and start taking pins from the wig, which is as hot as a herd of sheep on my head. “Oh, you got it, unless Elise hears how amazing you were and cuts her vacation short.” “Not happening. She was ready for a break, but she’d never missed a show.” I strip off the costume and stand in only panties, unselfconscious. Modesty is one of the first things to go in this business. I’ve undressed hurriedly in a roomful of actors and dancers in smaller shows where there was a dressing room, so we get real communal real fast. I tug on skinny jeans with a tight-fitting orange sweater, and layer it with a brown leather jacket, scarf, boots. I wipe away the heavy stage makeup. It feels like my skin can breathe for the first time in hours. I assume there will be some fans at the stage door, even if it’s just a few. They’ll have to get the real Neevah because I don’t want anything more than a slick of lip gloss and a bit of mascara. A brown, orange and green plaid newsboy cap covering the neat cornrows I wore under my wig is all I’m doing for hair. Slim oversized gold hoops in my ears finish the look. “Ready?” I ask Takira, hefting a slouchy bag on my shoulder. “Let’s do this. Hopefully your adoring fans won’t take all night, ’cause your girl is starving.” We’re still laughing, and I’m so preoccupied with my empty stomach, I’m completely unprepared for the crowd at the stage door. Are they here for John? For some principal player because surely they’re not all here for the understudy. “Neevah!” a young girl, maybe ten or eleven, calls. “Can you sign this?” She thrusts a pen and a Splendor playbill toward me. She glows, her smooth brown cheeks rounded with a wide grin. Her eyes shine with . . . pride? “Oh, sure,” I mumble dazedly, taking the pen and signing my name. She’s the first in a long line of girls, all shapes and colors and ages, saying what it meant to see me onstage. Mothers whispering how impactful it was for their Black and brown daughters to be in the audience tonight. The impact is on me; what could feel like a weight or burden or responsibility feels like a warm embrace. Feels like strong arms encircling me. Supporting me. The first time I saw someone who looked like me onstage, it planted a seed inside of me. It whispered a dream. That could be you. It makes me emotional to think I might have done that for any of these girls tonight, and I spend the next twenty minutes scribbling my name on playbills through a film of tears. “Neevah!” a deep male voice calls from the back of the now-thinning crowd. I squint at the tall man, frowning until I place him. “Wright!” I take a few steps and he meets me halfway, giving me a tight hug. “Oh, my God. You were here tonight?” “Was I here?” When he pulls back, a warm smile creases his handsome face. “You blew it out of the water. I knew you were good, but damn.” Laughter spills out of me and I don’t think this night could get more perfect. I randomly met Wright Bellamy a few weeks back at a gig when he subbed for the pianist, giving the audience more than they bargained for with such a famous musician tickling the ivories that night. “Thank you.” I step away and shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, huddling in the leather jacket against the chill of an October night. “I was nervous as hell.” “Didn’t show. Your voice is spectacular. I knew that from the gig we did, but I had no idea you were that good. Wow. Glad I saw your post on Instagram or I would’ve missed it.” I’m stone-still, shocked that he came tonight specifically to see me perform. “I’m so glad you made it. You’re still in LA, right?” “Yeah, but I’m here for some stuff. Heading back home in a few days.” Takira walks up, linking her arm through mine. “Girl, if we don’t get some food,” she whispers. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I turn back to Wright. “Takira, this is Wright Bellamy. Wright, my friend Takira.” “Nice to meet you,” Takira says. “You got any food on you? I’m about to eat your hat.” As usual, Takira never meets a stranger and has us laughing right away. “We’re actually headed to Glass House Tavern,” I tell Wright. “Come if you want. It’s a group of us from the show. Just some of the cast celebrating, but you’re welcome. We can catch up.” A small frown dents between his thick brows and he glances over his shoulder. “I mean, no pressure obviously,” I rush to assure him. This is one of the biggest names in music, and here I go, inviting him to dinner with a group of strangers. “No, it sounds cool,” he says, looking back to us. “Lemme check with my boy. Can he come?” I glance over his shoulder and spot a tall man turned away from us, his broad shoulders and back straining a wool blazer, a hoodie pulled up to cover his head and face in the cold. His hands burrow into the pockets of his blazer and he’s nodding like he’s talking to himself. “He’s on the phone,” Wright explains. “But lemme see if he wants to roll.” He steps away toward the man and Takira immediately squeezes my hand and squeals. “Neeve.” Her eyes are wide and bright. Mouth dropped open. “That’s Wright Bellamy.” “I know. He’s cool as a fan.” “You know him? How—” “We’re in,” Wright says, stepping back up beside us. “He’s finishing a call, but we’re ready. Lead the way.” It’s just a few blocks, and the three of us chat about the show and what Wright’s been doing in New York. All the while his friend’s deep voice rumbles a few paces behind. I don’t want to be rude or nosy and look back, but the rich timbre, his towering height, his face obscured by the hoodie—I’m intrigued. He hangs back on the sidewalk, still on his call, when we enter the restaurant. Our friends already have a table and a shout goes up, congratulating me on popping my White Way cherry. My three understudy buddies came. John’s here, too, and one other principal. A few from the stage crew. Our little troupe has become a family and, as if eight shows a week isn’t enough time together, we gather and eat every chance we get. “You’re not paying tonight,” John says, holding out the seat beside him. “And drinks are on me.” “Awwww.” I plop into the chair and drop my bag to the floor. “You’re so sweet. You don’t have to do that.” “You were fantastic,” John says, baby blue eyes sincere and smiling. “Let’s do it again tomorrow.” Takira is already sitting beside me, so Wright takes the seat next to her. “Hey,” he says to Janie across the table. “Could you hold that seat beside you for my friend? He’s wrapping up a call, but’ll be in soon.” “Sure.” Janie blushes. “I love your work, by the way. The score of Silent Midnight . . . gah.” “Thank you. That was a special project. Lots of fun,” Wright replies with a smile. “Now tell me about the show.” Wright’s a genius, but he’s so unassuming and modest. A man as famous as he is could easily make this conversation about him, let everyone at this table give his ego a real nice hand job, but he doesn’t. He talks about our show, compliments the performance, asks John about his process. I liked him when we did that last-minute gig, and we’ve interacted some on social media since. My impression of him holds up. He’s a good guy. Not to state the obvious, but also fine. Like fine fine. He has this Boris Kodjoe vibe. Real smooth. Kind of golden–brown. Clean-cut, close-cut. I can objectively recognize his appeal, even though he’s not my type. Not that I have a type lately. I’m so deep in this dick drought I’m past the point of thirst. At first I thought it was merely the grind. Auditioning constantly, taking craft classes, doing commercials and voiceover work to not just keep bills paid, but to save. This business is feast or famine. I’m eating now, but I’ve been hungry before. Not again. I’m thirty. Too old to still be living gig to gig and buying into that starving artist thing. I need health insurance and regularly scheduled meals, thank you very much. So yeah, the grind could account for my semi-disinterested libido, but I suspect it’s more. Maybe I’m disinterested. I need a man who doesn’t think that because he has a dick and I don’t that I should defer to him—shrink my dreams down to a more manageable size. I’m cautious not only about who I share my heart and body with, but I’m also protective of my dreams; of my ambition. I won’t endanger my future for a man who can fuck. Though . . . a man who can fuck? I wouldn’t turn it down, but it will take more than that to pique my interest. “What are you getting?” Takira asks, leaning over to read my menu instead of hers. “Anything here meet your high standards?” My standards aren’t that high. I’ve just cut out red meat and stopped drinking as much alcohol. My health demands it. “I’m thinking about the salmon, but I—” A chair scraping across the floor catches my attention. Wright’s friend has finally come inside to join us. The table shrinks immediately when he settles his imposing frame into the seat beside Janie. He peels the hood away from his head and I bite off a gasp. It’s Canon Holt. Like the Canon Holt. The director I, and probably every actress at this table and in this dining room, would sacrifice a pinky toe to work with. Canon Holt is at my table sitting across from me. Takira’s expression doesn’t register this massive earthquake of a revelation, but she kicks me under the table and hisses from the corner of her mouth. “Did you know?” I pretend I need to reach for something on the floor so I can whisper back, “Do you think I would have kept my shit together this long if I knew?” “True. True.” Takira casually glances up from her menu and smiles in Canon’s general direction, but he’s not looking at her. He’s studying his screen. He’s apparently in an exclusive relationship with his phone, and no one at this table tempts him to stray. Which means I can look at him. Good. God. He’s not that handsome, but that’s irrelevant. Some might even call his features, examined on their own, unremarkable. They’d be wrong. It’s a Maker’s sleight of hand. Now God knew this man did not need lashes that long and thick, a paradox against the hard, high slant of his cheekbones. Canon hasn’t looked twice at anyone here as far as I can tell, but I’ve stolen enough glances to know there’s a fathomlessness to his dark eyes that is arresting. His unsmiling mouth is wide, the lips full in the blunt elegance of his face. A five o’clock shadow licks the ridge of his jawline. There is a geometry to him—angles, lines, edges—that disregards the individual parts and illuminates the compelling sum.WANT MORE REEL? Click here for the rest >> www.thehollywoodrenaissanceseries.com/excerptAdd Reel to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3upMOqY
Cover Designer: Lori Jackson Design Photographer: Sophia Barrett Studios Models: Jasmine Raiford and Ajayi Bodden
About Kennedy Ryan
A USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Kennedy Ryan and her writings have been featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today, Entertainment Weekly, Glamour, Cosmo, TIME, O Mag and many others. A RITA® Award winner, Kennedy writes empowered women from all walks of life and centers those who have found themselves perennially on the margins of traditional storytelling.
Her Hoops Series (Long Shot, Block Shot and Hook Shot) and All the King’s Men Series (The Kingmaker, The Rebel King and Queen Move) have been optioned for television.
An autism mom, Kennedy co-founded LIFT 4 Autism, an annual charitable initiative, and has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for autism families. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son.
Connect with Kennedy
Text KennedyRyan to 797979 for release alerts! Subscribe to Mailing List: subscribepage.com/kennedyryan Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2GY6eyb Instagram: http://bit.ly/2TaYiAi Facebook: http://bit.ly/2GUq0uF Amazon: http://amzn.to/2Fvhqiz Pinterest: http://bit.ly/2NE0cU0 BookBub: bookbub.com/authors/kennedy-ryan Website: http://kennedyryanwrites.com
Release & Review – Jailbait, Lani Lynn Vale
April 9, 2021 | Posted in Cover Reveal | By Two Book Pushers
Jailbait
Souls Chapel Revenants MC Book 3
Lani Lynn Vale
Release Date: April 6, 2021
About the Book
The first time I saw her was across the room at a bar. I had no idea at the time that she was only sixteen. All I knew was that she was beautiful, she was sending me do-me vibes from across the room, and I was fresh off a deployment where there’d been nobody but men for nine of the longest months of my life.
The second time that I saw her was at a court hearing that would decide how long I’d be sent to prison for. She was a cute little curly-haired blonde with wide, expressive eyes, a banging body, and the reason that I’d gone to prison in the first place.
The third time I saw her was through a glass divider of the prison visitation room as she waited for her stepfather, my lawyer, to tell me how sorry he was that he lost my case. Especially when I’d been the one to kill the man that was about to kill his daughter.
The last time, the time that I decided enough was enough, was when I saw her at my bar eight weeks after I’d been set free.
Unlucky for her, I’d stopped being a good guy about two seconds after those bars closed behind me twelve years ago. Now all that was left was a shell of a man that didn’t see the good in anything. Anything except for her.
Purchase Links
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3gRSe8t
Apple: http://apple.co/3oYGILj
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Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2IUQi2p
Jailbait is the third book in the Souls Chapel Revenants MC series by Lani Lynn Vale. I’m loving this series full of sexy men who all went to prison for saving someone. Trick met Swayze when she was just sixteen and he fell hard for her. He saved her and went to prison for it, but got out early to help the mayor. He didn’t expect to see Swayze waltz into his bar, but her she is. Older, more gorgeous and living across the street from him. This isn’t going to be good. He thinks he hates her, but he really doesn’t. He doesn’t blame her for his actions and he can’t seem to stay away from her. Swayze is hilarious, independent and can’t stop feeling guilty. They try to stay away from each other but it’s no use, they are just destined to be together. When danger keeps showing up, Swayze is in trouble again and Trick is going to do whatever it takes to save her again. This time he’s going to be smart about it and he has his team to help. I loved Trick and his attitude and sexiness. Swayze cracked me up and together they made me swoon and cry! Already looking forward to the next one!
About Lani Lynn Vale
Lani Lynn Vale is a Wall Street Journal & USA Today Bestselling Author of over thirty titles. She is married with three children, two dogs, two cats, a donkey, and a couple (a couple also meaning over twenty) chickens.
When she’s not writing, you can find her curled up in her favorite chair reading.
Lani is married with three children and lives in the Great State of Texas.
Website: http://www.lanilynnvale.com/
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BookBub: http://bit.ly/LLVbb