Follow by Email

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Release Blitz: A Good Man by Rosanna Leo (November 21)

Title: A Good Man
Series: Handyman Series #1
Author: Rosanna Leo
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Release Date: November 21, 2017


Not only is Michael a star on a successful home improvement show, he’s also seen as a local hero. But no one knows about the demons he carries inside him ever since the day he risked his life to save others.

All the accolades and honors only make the memories stronger and the pain unbearable. He would do anything to be able to forget, to put his past behind him and move on.

Michael takes on a new home improvement project, convinced it’s the perfect distraction. Little did he know that Emily, the woman who’s supposed to be nothing more than a client, would turn out to be a huge distraction…and engaged.

While Emily battles with her own personal problems, Michael is determined to keep his distance. The last thing he needs is woman trouble. But when it becomes clear that the attraction is mutual, he realizes staying away from her is not an option.

Now Michael needs to decide if he’s willing to risk exposing his weakness, and his heart…by giving in to temptation.






“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“Sounds mysterious.”

“I will admit I was keeping this a secret, but I’ve made an executive decision to break with Handymen tradition.”

“What will Lacey think?”

“Let’s not go there.” He brought her upstairs, to the room that used to be the master bedroom, the one where several crew members stowed their belongings most days. Michael opened the door. At the far end of the empty room sat a large object, covered in a long tarp. “I’ve been working on something for you.”

“You mean other than renovating my house?”

He grinned. “Remember those old family photos Lacey borrowed from you?”

“Yeah. She said they wanted to include a montage of old pictures in the show introduction.”

“That might have been a slight fabrication. I just needed a way to get some photos from you. Anyway, I was saving this for the big reveal, but I think I want to show you now.” He grabbed the edge of the tarp and pulled, revealing the object hidden beneath it. 

It was an old wooden ladder, one he’d found months ago at a salvage yard. He’d decided to repurpose it, turning it into a set of frames for the old photos they’d borrowed. Faces now smiled out from the six gaps between the rungs. Nonna Olivia hugging two blond children, Emily and her brother. Nonna Olivia and her husband on their wedding day. Six photos in total, all part of the heritage Emily so treasured. He hoped she’d like the rustic look of the ladder. Rather than sanding and painting it, he’d left it rough and worn, so that it looked as if it might have been sitting in Nonna Olivia’s toolshed, just waiting to be used. All Michael had done was affix the appropriate hooks and backings and had blown all the photos up to sizes that would fit the spaces. 

Emily gazed upon her grandmother’s face. Her chest heaved. She blinked once, then twice. All at once, big, fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Michael, it’s…”

“I hope you don’t mind I used the photos. I thought it might be nice for you to have mementos of your grandmother in the finished store.”

“Oh.” Her hand covered her mouth but it shook so much she was unsuccessful at covering her open mouth.

“I hope you like it. You’ve had a shitty week and I thought you could use a pick-me-up. I was supposed to keep quiet about it, so maybe you could keep it under your hat until—”

Emily threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his torso, cutting off his words and his breath. Only when he hugged her back did he realize how hard she was quivering.

She wasn’t just crying about the old photos.

“It’s okay, Em. Let it out, sweetheart.”

The collar of his shirt grew wet but he didn’t care. Wardrobe had tons of shirts. Besides, she felt good in his arms, all soft and warm. He rubbed her shoulders and the back of her waist, exploring and familiarizing himself with her luscious body. He breathed, drinking in her scent. His nasal cavities had never known such bliss. It was like that first clear breath after a long period of congestion. His fingers were pretty happy too, enjoying the give of her womanly body. It was all he could do not to slide them down, cup her sweet ass, and pull her up against him.

Just not while she was crying over another man. 

She lingered in his arms and he did nothing to push her away. In fact, it surprised him how badly he wanted to keep her there, so much so that when Emily finally extricated herself, he wanted to pull her back into his embrace. Instead, he wiped her cheeks of the remaining tears. 

“The makeup ladies are going to kill me for making you cry.”

It might have been his imagination, but her tears made her eyes appear even greener. In fact, her entire face seemed a riot of tempting color. Each shade called to him. The crushed roses in her cheeks. Her strawberry lips, so plump and moist. Even the doeskin brown of her freckles fascinated him to no end. He wanted to count them, to kiss and mark them all.

Kissing her made a whole lot of sense right now. Kissing her senseless seemed even better.

Emily’s eyes widened. Her lips parted in invitation. Michael paused, knowing it was wrong, even though every raised hair on his arms told him it was right.

As he debated with himself for a split second, she brushed her lips against his. It was quick and soft, hunger masquerading as something platonic. Even though a spectator might have called it a friendly kiss, he knew the truth. As brief as it may have been, he felt her yield to him, even if just a little. 

From the startled look in her eye, Emily knew it too.

She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re right. I should have been the one to do it.” Michael licked his lips. “Your lips really do taste like strawberries.”

“Michael, I can’t.”

“I think you just did.”

“You know what I mean.” She waved her hand between their two torsos. “This. I can’t do this.”

“What? Point at my chest?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe a little. Listen, Em, I understand. As unexpected as that kiss was, as much as I want to taste your lips again, I know it’s too soon.”

“It’s too much, too soon.”

He reached for her hand. “I get it. It’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t be spending all my waking hours waiting for the moment I can make it happen again.”

“Michael.”

“Don’t worry. I’d never force the matter. Besides, I enjoyed having you thrust yourself at me.”

“Are you ever going to let me live it down?”

“Not in this century, sweetheart.”




Rosanna Leo is a multi-published romance author. Winner of the Reader’s Choice 2015 in Paranormal Romance at The Romance Reviews, Rosanna draws on her love of mythology for her books on Greek gods, selkies and shape shifters.

From Toronto, Canada, Rosanna occupies a house in the suburbs with her long-suffering husband, their two hungry sons and a tabby cat named Sweetie. When not writing, she can be found haunting dusty library stacks or planning her next star-crossed love affair.

A library employee by day, she is honored to be a member of the league of naughty librarians who also happen to write romance.







HOSTED BY:



Release Blitz: The Warden by MC Cerny (November 21)

Title: The Warden
Author: MC Cerny
Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance 
Release Date: November 21, 2017 


Convicted.
Imprisoned.
At only nineteen.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse...

I met him. 
Cohen Shephard.
The Warden.
With his sexy eyes, controlling demeanor, and badass attitude,
I was his for the taking.
And he wants me...
To help him.
In return, he’ll clear my name.
After all, I’m Benedicta Cruz.
And I’m innocent.
To an extent.

But I want more.
So much more.









The Warden

The Warden - A sexy new novella by M.C. Cerny.




“Benedicta Alejandra Cruz, you are found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to…” I stopped listening when the verdict was read. I’d never experienced depression, but I was sure my parents had to be rolling in their graves. Their only daughter, their hope for the future, was about to be shackled in silver, skin biting cuffs and sent to prison.


In all of this chaos, the reading of the verdict was the first time I lost my last shred of hope. The grain striations of the wooden table where I sat looked more interesting than the man in robes yammering on about my debt to society. What about the debt society owed me? This wasn’t a fair trial. It was a speedy trial with an easy conviction because I fit the bill, not because I was guilty.

Circumstantial evidence, my ass.

The judge continued speaking to me, but my eyes had glazed over. “…at least five years in prison and not more than ten as per the Texas statute. Given your youth and the likelihood that this act was committed out of provocation for your safety, I have no choice but to remand you to the state correctional unit in Colby. You will stay there for the duration of your incarceration until your parole hearing. Since your arrest, you have accumulated four months of time served.”

And then there was my lazy ass lawyer who was more interested in trying to bone me in the back of his powder blue 1991 Caddy Seville than getting the evidence to prove I didn’t do it. My anger simmered and with it my jaw clamped shut. Freaking out now would only give the entire courtroom justification for the sentence. No need to show them my crazy Latina side.

I clasped my hands together to keep from punching my thighs or slapping the table in anger while the judge droned on. “That time will be credited to your remaining sentence. Do you have anything you wish to say?” The judge graced me with a fatherly glance before giving a deep sigh that marred his weathered face with a frown. He was gruff, and no-nonsense, looking me over as if he waited for my meltdown and only hesitated a moment for my response, which wasn’t forthcoming.

My face flamed, hot and shamed, but not with guilt for the crime I’d been charged with and found guilty of, but because there was nothing for me to say. People who knew me would have said I was full of fire, but today, it felt like a torrential rain had beaten me down to sputtering smoke and ash.

“May she burn in hell! Puta!” Damp air speckled my cheek from the spittle that flew in my direction from just a dozen feet away.

“I make her suffer too! An eye for an eye is my vengeance!” A pencil hit my cheek, grazing the skin, and I ducked down to avoid further abuse. The prosecutor stood up defensively as I sat there numbly taking the verbal insults. My hands were high over my head in surrender.

“Enough! Sit down, Mrs. Espina, or I’ll hold you in contempt! Bailiff!” the judge fired back, because hey, what’s a blanket threat when I’ve already been convicted? Bailiffs standing against the wall took one step forward in a languid attempt to hold her back from the first lunge at me. She managed to knock papers and glasses of water over, spilling the liquid on my lawyer in her effort to hit and slap me. I knew better than to touch her when the judge slammed his gavel down repeatedly urging those lazy guards to break it up. She got lose, able to reach me and my cheek rung with the violence of her backhand. I nearly toppled from my chair, my shoulder and arm up to protect me from a second strike.

Anything I did now would have been self-defense, not that this court understood that at all. After all, she was the mother of the man I’d supposedly killed almost five months earlier. Grant’s mother thought I deserved what I got. It’s kind of hard to convince the world you’re innocent when your fingerprints are all over the tire-iron that bashed his head to smithereens.








M.C. Cerny fell in love with books after experiencing her first real ugly cry reading, Where The Red Fern Grows. Her debut romantic suspense novel, Flashpoint was written in a series of post-it-note ramblings that would likely make her idol Tom Clancy and her mother blush. She is a post graduate of NYU and calls rural NJ home with her menagerie of human and feline fur-babies. When M.C. is not writing, you’ll find her lurking in Starbucks, running stupid marathons, singing Disney show tunes, and searching out the perfect shade of pink nail polish.




HOSTED BY: