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Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Title: My San Francisco Highlander 
Series: Finding My Highlander
Author: Aleigha Siron
Genre: Time-Travel Romance 
Release Date: August 23, 2017


A love three hundred years in the making — After being knocked out in battle, Angus Cameron wakes in a terrifying new world with flying beasts, horseless carriages, crazy music, and strangely dressed people. Has he gone mad? When Angel Adair discovers a man in 1975's San Francisco Lands End park dressed in little more than a Scottish kilt, is he just a confused drifter or her dream-lover come to life?




A few words from Aleigha. 

Everyone remembers their first kiss. That moment fraught with nervous trepidation. According to several research articles, both men and women experience a certain amount of anxiousness when they kiss. Following that very first kiss there are many more to come with different partners. Some we remember and others we forget as quickly as we forget the person who bestowed it.

But then there’s that special first kiss. The one with the person who will become our great love. That kiss is never forgotten. Your feet, your palms, your fingertips all possess high sensory receptors, but the lips are one of the most sensitive sensory nerve areas in your body. When you kiss your brain floods with a range of hormones, the pulse increases, you may feel dizzy, or overheated. Experts credit kissing with a wide range of health benefits such as reducing stress, improving relationship satisfaction, increasing sexual stimulation, and are you ready for this, reducing cholesterol! We all need to engage in a lot more kissing. 

Here’s the first kiss between my lovers, Brian and Angel.

My San Francisco Highlander – First Kiss 

“Brian. Brian, can you hear me? Please answer.” Panic assailed her at the thought of not finding him. “Dammit, Angus Brian Cameron, answer me right now!” Squawking seagulls offered the only reply. 

Exhausted, she slumped against a tree and slid to the ground. “Where are you, Brian? Please answer me.” No one could possibly hear that whispered plea. 

Eyes closed, she leaned against the tree and listened as the wind ruffled through branches overhead. Then she rolled over on her belly and scanned underneath the thick brush. There! A weird clump of greenish-blue and brown cloth peeked out between a wide tree trunk and a cluster of wild rhododendron bushes. She crawled under the prickly branches and found Brian rolled into a fetal position, unconscious, with streaks of blood staining the dirt. She touched his shoulder gently, afraid he’d wake thrashing and ready to fight. He didn’t move. 

“Brian,” she shook his shoulder. “Angus Brian Cameron, wake up.” When he didn’t move, she lay down behind him, wrapped her arms around his muscled body, and carefully moved his hand from his ear. 

“Brian, you have to wake up now.” He moaned and tucked tighter into a fetal position. 

“That’s it. Wake up. It’s me, Angel. I need to take you back home. You are too big to carry, and I didn’t bring my car.” He moaned again but didn’t move. 

She leaned up on one elbow and wiped sweat and dirt from his brow. She bent to his ear, “Brian, it’s Angel.” 

She didn’t know what possessed her to kiss him, but she began to feather light kisses over his temple, down along his jaw and back up. When she reached his ear, she sucked his earlobe between her teeth and bit down. Lightly at first, and then she nipped his neck at the juncture of his shoulder, this time with more force. 

He rolled over until she found herself partially pinned beneath his hard body, staring up into eyes as green as the overhead canopy. His burnt chestnut hair fell over his forehead in disarrayed clumps. Her breath stopped, but she didn’t flinch or turn away. She held his gaze, his beautiful, startled gaze. The hard body pressed against her chest and hips did strange things to her insides. He dipped his head and pressed a light brush of lips over her mouth, then glazed her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth and welcomed his intrusion. 

When he lifted his head for breath, she attempted a bit of levity, always her awkward first response to passion. “You’re not supposed to make a girl run all over creation trying to catch you.” She looked down at his leg pressed between her thighs where his erection hardened against her hip. 


“And I think you’re bleeding all over my jeans.”






Aleigha Siron is an Amazon best selling author of Time-Travel romance. After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry. Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades (under her alter ego’s name.) Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre. As she says, "who doesn't desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?" Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.

When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind. Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands that is still weaving stories in the Finding My Highlander Series.






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Title: Pretty Reckless
Author: Jane Anthony
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 22, 2017
Special Price: $0.99

Addiction: the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.


Love: feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone)

Amazing how two words with vastly different definitions can have the same adverse effect on the spirit. I may be an addict, but I’m no longer foolhardy enough to be addicted to one man. No, this girl finds her comfort in thirst quenching liquid -- it dulls the pain caused by tainted love. 

True love may exist, but not for me.

Reckless: without thinking or caring about the consequences of an action

The guy I used to be is a distant memory. I left him in the past, vowing never to be that man again. But never say never, right? This time, I became him out of need. Need for her. She only let me in assuming I enjoyed being on the outside, at arm’s length. But the more I fight the desire brewing in my veins, the harder she is to resist.

Wrong for each other, but carved from the same stone.

He is my rock.

She is my air.

But rocks shatter, and if you get high enough, air becomes unbreathable.

No matter how good it might seem, getting wrapped up in each other is pretty reckless...






Without looking up, she lifts her feet, allows me to sit, and then places them over my lap. I watch her scan the small screen, the lighted background shining against her dark brown irises. Every few seconds, she swipes to the left. “What are you doing?”

“Just messing around online.” 

I lean in just in time to see her swipe again. “Are you on a dating site?” The contempt in my voice is hard to hide. Kat and I have spent every moment together, pretty much, since the day we met. The idea that she’ll eventually end up dating someone never crossed my mind. 

“It’s just Tinder.”

“You really feel like you’re ready to start dating again?” Panic sits on my heart, stabbing at the meshy membrane with a dull fork. The thought of her even looking at another man makes me wants to go on a jealous rampage. She’s been living in my house for the past five weeks, crawling into my bed when she can’t fall asleep. Kat’s mine. Whether she knows it or not. 

“Dating?” She pulls her hair down, and all of mine stand up. The faintest hint of juicy, ripened fruit wafts into my nostrils. Why couldn’t she smell like powder or flowers? Anything other than apples. Because of Kat, the mere thought of a Granny Smith stiffens my cock to an agonizing mass. If I don’t do something about this soon, I’m going to spend the rest of my life in analysis. “No. I’m just looking for a little release.” 

I raise an eyebrow, watching her feverish swiping continue. “You’re looking for a booty call.” 

Her gaze leaves her phone and locks on mine. “Not everyone’s a sex camel like you are, Chase. I can’t just store it in my lady humps and feed off it in tiny increments.” 

“I’m not a sex camel.” 

“You’re right. You’re more a like sexual terrorist. My coochie has been on the no-fly list since the day I met you, and right now, it just needs a little extra mileage. I’m not looking for anything more than that. So,” —she lifts her phone and waggles it back and forth— “Tinder.” 

The corners of my mouth turn down. I focus on the television, pretending to watch the Kardashians fight when really, I’m imagining what it would be like to drag Kat into my room caveman-style and lock her away. I’m a selfish prick. I can’t have her, but I don’t want anyone else to have her either. 

“Should I get my lips done?” From the corner of my eye, I see her pressing her fingertips against her puckered mouth as she watches the TV alongside me. “I want Khloe Kardashian lips.”

“Your lips are fine.” 

“Word to the wise, Chase. Never tell a woman she’s fine. Fine is the kiss of death.” 

I turn to look at her. Your lips are perfect. Two plump little pillows that would feel incredible sliding over my erection. “There’s not a thing about you I’d change.” 

“You’re biased because you’re my friend.” 

I just know what I like. “Scout’s honor.” 

She rolls her eyes and looks back down at her phone. Swipe . . . swipe . . . swipe . . . all to the left. Then one to the right. My heart sinks. 

“You right swiped.” 

“Ew, are you watching me? Creeper alert!” 

I hold out my hand. “Let me see.”

“No.” 

“Come on! Show me!” I reach out to grab the phone, but she jerks her arm back.

“No way, Jose!” That innocent giggle wraps itself around my heart and travels to my dick in an instant. My laugh. My girl. Fuck Tinder. 

Gobs of hysteric cackling erupt from her chest when I squeeze her knee with my fingers. She squirms and writhes, attempting to tear my grip from her leg. My free hand moves to her stomach. The phone falls to the floor and bounces across the carpet, long forgotten. 

When I shift to my knee in an attempt to avoid a karate kick to the face, her arms shoot up and grasp my shirt, pulling me down against her. Frantic breath beats against my lips, her eyes wild with passion and fire. 

Face to face, her body trembles. Raven strands of hair stick to her mouth. I run my fingers down her cheek and slip them behind her ear. Those lips. Those fucking amazing lips are so close to mine I can almost taste them.

So close . . .

The first taste is everything.






Jane Anthony is a romance author, fist pumping Jersey-girl, and hard rock enthusiast. She resides in the 'burbs of New Jersey with her husband and children. A lover of Halloween, vintage cars, & coffee, she’s also an encyclopedia of useless 80's knowledge and trivia. When not writing, she's an avid reader, concert goer, and party planner extraordinaire.


Jane loves hearing from her readers! Connect with her on these social media sites, and don't be too shy to say hello!







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ON SALE FOR A LIMITED TIME


► Full Synopsis:
My best friend is married.
Everyone I know is married. It doesn't bother me. I like my life the way it is. Since I'm single though, when my best friend and her husband finally decide to go on their dream honeymoon, she asks me to watch their three-year-old son. 
Of course I say yes.

What my best friend neglects to tell me is that I won't be babysitting alone.

Feeling Max might be too much for me to handle, her husband asks his only single friend to help.

Nick Carrington and I have met a couple of dozen times. I've never really given him a second thought--other than to say he's kind of a jerk. Out loud. So he can hear. Sure, he's tall, dark, and handsome. And yes, he has the best ass I've ever seen, and I mean ever seen quite literally. You see he mooned me at last year's Fourth of July barbecue because, like I said, he's a jerk.

He always has to be the life of the party.
He's also arrogant.
Imposing.
Rich.
And a playboy.
I'd even go as far as to say he's a manwhore.

And now I'm stuck with him...for two weeks!  Don't look at me like that!   It wasn't like I had a choice.  Besides...what could possibly happen? It's not like we're going to fall in love or anything like that! Right?
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