Release Week Sale - Trudy Stiles’ Forever Family Series Box Set

Make sure to check out the Book Trailers, add this series to your Goodreads, and grab your Box Set!

Dear Emily - Book #1 in the Forever Family Series

This book is not suitable for young readers. It is intended for mature adults only (18+). It contains strong language, adult/sexual situations, non-consensual sex and some violence.

Dear Tabitha - Book #2 in the Forever Family Series

Dear Juliet - Book #3 in the Forever Family Series

The Epic Fail series will begin this fall (2015)

This is a spinoff of the bestselling Forever Family series. These will all be standalone novels focusing on the various characters from the band Epic Fail that were introduced in Dear Emily.

Book 1 - expected Fall 2015

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25359937-epic-fail-book-1
Book 2 - expected Winter 2015

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25359945-epic-fail-book-2
Book 3 - expected Spring 2016

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25359957-epic-fail-book-3

Trudy Stiles is a New Adult author, mom to two beautiful children, and married to the love of her life. She’s the author of the bestselling Forever Family series including “Dear Emily,” “Dear Tabitha,” and now “Dear Juliet.” She plans to write many more stories about some of the characters you’ve already met, and maybe a few new ones. The Epic Fail series will begin in the Fall of 2015.

Trudy is a music junkie and you’ll know that she’s writing when you see her plugged into her laptop with her earbuds in. Her playlist is unique and is a must for her writing sprints.

When she’s not writing, she’s carting her children to their various activities while avoiding any kind of laundry or housework. She also loves to run along the boardwalk of the beautiful New Jersey shore.

She celebrates Wine Wednesday almost every day.

Email: authortrudystiles@gmail.com

Website: http://trudystiles.com/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/authortrudystiles

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/trudy_stiles

Twitter: @trudystiles

Instagram: https://instagram.com/trudystiles/

One Week Sale Blitz Aug 3

ONE WEEK is all it will take...

A week in Las Vegas and she will feel better about herself. At least that is what Dacotah Miller is hoping will be the case. Left at the alter, heart broken and ashamed, Dacotah takes the opportunity offered by her girlfriends - the chance to get away. The opportunity to escape her mundane life in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin.

But what Dacotah doesn't know is that lurking in Las Vegas is the chance of a lifetime, a dream come true, in the form of Derek Hunter.

Derek, in town on business, can't seem to focus on his purpose once Dacotah walks into his field of vision. She beautiful and just what he needs to cure his desire for a good woman in his bed. Only she presents a challenge to him unlike anything he's ever experienced before.

Dacotah will be wrapped up in a whirlwind of unexpected events that will force her to make a decision, life changing choice. Does she get on the plane back to boring Wisconsin and wonder what might have been? Or will she step on board a private jet that promises to take her on a journey she will never forget?

***** Content Warning *****

This book contains explicit sex, language and an indecent proposal from a billionaire. Story contains strong BDSM themed scenes and is not recommended for anyone under the age of 18.

One Week is a STANDALONE novel with over 100K words (390 word pages).

AMAZON * AMAZON UK

It is from Glendale, Arizona that Zoey Derrick, a mortgage underwriter by day and romance and erotica novelist by night, writes stories as hot as the desert sun itself. It is this passion that drips off of her work, bringing excitement to anyone who enjoys a good and sensual love story.

Not only does she aim to take her readers on an erotic dance that lasts the night, it allows her to empty her mind of stories we all wish were true.

Her stories are hopeful yet true to life, skillfully avoiding melodrama and the unrealistic, bringing her gripping Erotica only closer to the heart of those that dare dipping into it.

The intimacy of her fantasies that she shares with her readers is thrilling and encouraging, climactic yet full of suspense. She is a loving mistress, up for anything, of which any reader is doomed to return to again and again.

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Blog Tour: Rye Must Die by Dakota Madison & Savannah Young

Title: Rye Must Die

Series: Izzy & Max Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series #1

Author: Dakota Madison & Savannah Young

Genre: New Adult, Paranormal Romantic Comedy

Published: July 16, 2015

There’s a fine line between sexy alpha and creepy stalker…and Rye has crossed it. Izzy Grant is supposed to be dead, suicide by hanging. When she regains consciousness she’s still alive and still the crazy girl everyone in Old Town loves to hate. But one thing had changed. He saved her life, a shadowy figure wearing all black and riding a motorcycle. Now he’s following Izzy. She doesn’t know why, but she’s eager to find out. When charming ghost hunter, Max Elliot, barges into Izzy’s life she isn’t looking for love…except in the biker romance novels she’s obsessed with. But when Rye’s behavior takes on new and violent dimensions, Izzy and Max struggle to find a way to stop him before his violence against Izzy escalates. Maybe the only solution is for Rye to die. RYE MUST DIE is a paranormal romantic comedy novella by USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Dakota Madison and AMAZON BESTSELLING AUTHOR Savannah Young. It can be read as a STANDALONE or as part of the ongoing series.

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Prologue

© Dakota Madison & Savannah Young 2015

I gasp for breath. Then I cough. The brisk air stings my lungs.

I’m on the cold, hard ground, not hanging from the tree like I’m supposed to be, and I’m definitely not dead.

When I open my eyes I’m glad it’s dusk. I don’t think I could take the glare of the sun right now. Dusk was always my favorite time of day, when nature’s light is fading away.

My neck feels raw, but there’s no rope on it. I search around me, but the rope seems to have vanished.

I spot a guy dressed in all black. He’s sitting on a black H-D Iron 883, very similar to the motorcycle I ride.

A shiver runs through me when I realize the guy is watching me.

He must have been the one who did it. He cut me down from the tree. I have a vague memory of a struggle. Of strong arms grabbing me and holding me tight. I fought against him, but I was hopelessly outmatched.

I wanted to die but I realized he wasn’t going to let me.

Then I blacked out, and woke up on the ground.

I wonder how long he’s going to sit there. It’s almost like he’s guarding me. Then he opens a black satchel on his bike and removes a rope—my rope—and holds it up for me to see.

I feel like he’s taunting me with it. Why does this asshole care if I live or die?

When I give him the finger he doesn’t respond. He just puts on his dark helmet and speeds away, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

I think about some of the other ways I could kill myself, but those methods leave a margin of error that I’m not comfortable with. I don’t want to jump in front of a moving truck only to be paralyzed for life and still not dead.

Besides, I’m suddenly hungry and craving a burger and fries in the worst way. I guess today is not the day for me to die.

Six Weeks Later

Another exciting day at the Old Town Antique Shop. I’ve had only two customers and only one who actually bought something. It’s a good thing the building is completely paid for, I live right upstairs, and my grandmother was extremely generous to me in her will. I certainly couldn’t afford to run a real business on the pittance the store makes on a weekly basis.

I would have been out of Old Town by now if my grandmother didn’t croak. And she didn’t stipulate in her will that I had to keep the antique shop running in order to get the money she entrusted to me. I’m the last living member of the Grant family and I now have the honor of running the business that’s been in our family for generations.

I glance down at the stash of romance novels I keep hidden under the counter. I know they’re cheesy, but right now they’re the only things that are keeping me from slashing my wrists when I’m in the bathtub. They give me the slightest bit of hope that maybe someday; someone will love the town pariah. Even the meanest girls in romance novels always get the guy.

I’m deep in a very hot sex scene when I’m startled by the little bell that chimes when the front door opens.

I’m even more surprised by the guy who walks into my shop. Or more like strolls in. He’s wearing a wild flowered Hawaiian shirt over a red Green Day T-shirt, faded cargo pants and red converse high tops. He runs his hands through his mop of sun-bleached blond hair, but it doesn’t help. Old Town is always windy, but his hair isn’t just windblown. It’s a little too long and looks shaggy.

He’s definitely not from Old Town.

After giving me a quick once over he grins. His grin is too wide and his teeth are too perfect and too white. I already hate him.

“You know we’re nowhere near the shore?” I try not to sound as disgusted as this guy is making me.

He laughs. He seems like the kind of guy who laughs easily. I hate him even more.

“I’m not here to surf.”

I give him a once over. “You could have fooled me.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a shiny business card. He wiggles it in my face so the light overhead reflects off of it.

I rip the card out of his hand just to make the glare stop. “What’s wrong with you?”

He laughs again, which makes me even more perturbed. Not that it’s difficult to do. Most people are able to get on my bad side pretty quickly.

“Do you want a list?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I shake my head and examine his card:

Old Town Ghost Tours. Max Elliot, Paranormal Investigator.

Great. Not only is he starting to be the most annoying person on the planet, he’s also one of those ghost hunting freaks.

I try to hand the card back to him, but he puts his hands up and shakes them at me. “The card is yours to keep.”

If I had a trash can close I’d make a point of throwing the thing inside of it, but the trash can is on the other side of this weirdo and I don’t feel like walking past him to get to it.

“You didn’t answer my question.” I glare at him.

“What’s wrong with me?” He looks down at his watch, which I now notice has Mickey Mouse on it. “How much time do you have?”

I give an exasperated sigh. “What can I help you with?”

He grins again. Boy does this guy like to smile a lot. He must think it’s charming, and maybe some girls are into that, but I’m definitely not one of them. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve smiled so far this year.

And I don’t go for blonds and definitely not beach boy blonds with big smiles. I prefer the dark and dangerous type, all in black leather, preferably riding a motorcycle.

“I’d love for you to go out with me, but we can negotiate that later. I’m here to see Alberta Grant. Something tells me that you’re not Alberta.”

“I’m Izzy Grant,” I reply, but I’m not sure why. I don’t really want anything to do with this guy.

“What’s Izzy short for?”

I frown. “Izzy.”

No one calls me by my given name, and definitely not this guy. I only give it out on a need-to-know basis.

“Okay, Izzy. How can I find Alberta?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re obviously not from around here.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, you’re not wearing jeans and cowboy boots for starters.” And you have no idea my grandmother is dead. Everyone in town knows that.

He points to his business card lying on the counter. “Just moved here. I’m trying to start a business.”

“In Old Town?”

He nods. “I’m going to capitalize on the popularity of the Tawnee Mountain Resort. The guests need some nighttime entertainment and ghost hunting is really popular right now.”

I don’t feel like stating the obvious. That there’s no such thing as ghosts.

I decide to play with the guy because he’s annoying and it’s not like I have anything better to do.

“Alberta isn’t here right now, but I can take you to her.”

He grins again. Oh how I wish I could just slap that big grin right off of his perfect, beach boy face. Then he looks around the place. “Are you sure you aren’t too busy?”

I narrow my gaze at him. “I’ll make time for you.”

“See, you already like me.”

If he only knew.

I lock up the store and hang up my OUT TO LUNCH sign. Max follows me to the small parking lot on the side of the store.

I stop in front of my old Harley H-D Iron 883. “Do you want a ride? I’ve got an extra helmet.”

He laughs. “There is no way I’m riding on the back of a chick’s motorcycle.”

I point a finger in his face. “I’m not a chick. And if you ever call me that again, I’ll rip your dick off.”

He puts his hands up. “Okay, chill. It’s just an expression. Can we take my car instead?”

I glance at the bright red Mini Cooper parked at the other end of the parking lot. “That’s not a real vehicle. That’s a clown car.”

“This isn’t just any Mini Cooper. It’s a special limited edition.”

I frown. “Just an FYI. If you plan on living in Old Town you’ll attract a lot less attention if you’re driving a pickup, preferably a Ford or a Dodge Ram.”

He grins. Another one of those huge grins that irritate every nerve in my body. “Who says I don’t want attention?”

I shake my head. “Never mind.”

I’m short, only about five feet two inches, and I’m worried about fitting inside that car. I have no idea how Max, who’s easily a foot taller than me, fits inside of it.

“Okay, we can take your car,” I agree, but only because I want to see how he squeezes inside that thing.

He pulls his keys from his pocket and starts throwing them in the air like he’s juggling with them. The guy has no shortage of ways to completely annoy me.

To my surprise Max fits into his car better than I imaged he would. He’s got the seat pushed back as far as it will go, so his legs aren’t cramped.

“You could buy a bigger car,” I say as I snap on my seat belt. “Being such a big guy.”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? This car is a chick magnet. I’ve known you less than fifteen minutes and I’ve already got you inside of it.”

When he winks at me I feel a little bile rise in my throat like I want to vomit. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not my type.”

He waves the comment off like a mosquito. “I’m everyone’s type.”

“Not mine,” I repeat.

“You won’t know for sure until you’ve had a chance to test the goods.” Then he winks at me.

Now I’m really going to be sick. “I’m not interested in testing any of your goods. Do you want to see my grandmother or not?”

He heaves a sigh. “Tell me where to drive.”

Five minutes later we pull up to the Old Town Cemetery. As soon as Max parks the car he turns and looks at me. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“You’re the ghost hunter. Isn’t this like your Valhalla or something?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Most graveyards aren’t haunted. Spirits like to stay close to loved ones, or places they were most familiar with before they died.”

“Whatever you say.” I open the door and hop out of his clown car.

I’m surprised when he follows. Part of me thought he’d just turn the engine back on and speed away.

As I open the cemetery gate I’m overwhelmed with sadness…again. It’s been happening a lot lately…ever since my grandmother died. She was the last of my relatives, and now I’m alone in the world. Not that I’m not used to being a loner. I’m known for it. But being alone, without any family to anchor me, makes me feel truly lost.

Alberta Grant wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but she was my rock. She lived to be ninety, and from what I’ve heard around town, spent at least forty of those years being a cantankerous old broad, who was both feared and admired.

I seem to be following in her footsteps. Except for the ad-mired part. People in Old Town say I’m freak and a bitch and tend to steer clear.

And I’m okay with that.

When I find my grandmother’s headstone I clear away the leaves that have fallen on it.

“How did she die?” Max asks. His tone is actually sincere. He’s finally dropped the overdone surfer-boy salesman act.

“She was old. Ninety.”

He nods. “Do you miss her?”

“More than I ever thought I would.”

He’s actually quiet as he stands there with me. He’s slightly attractive when he’s not talking. It’s when he opens his pie hole that he’s a complete turn off.

As we drive back toward the antique shop I have a brief moment of panic when Max passes right by it.

“You missed my stop.”

“I know,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Let me out. Now.” I can feel my pulse start to race. I briefly consider jumping out of the car, but I’m not wearing my leather today so the pavement would definitely hurt as I slid across it.

“It’s okay.” When Max glances over at me, I can see concern in his eyes. “I’m just going to take you to lunch. My treat.”

I take in a deep breath and try to calm my frayed nerves. “Lunch?”

“You put an OUT TO LUNCH sign on your door,” he reminds me. “So I’m taking you to lunch.”

“You’ll do anything for a date, won’t you?”

“So you’re actually going on a date with me?” He grins. “And here I thought you were a tough girl.”

I huff. “Do I have a choice? You kind of have me trapped in your clown car.”

When he glances over at me his eyes have turned serious. “You always have a choice. Don’t ever forget that.”

I nod, but we’re both quiet as we head back into the center of Old Town.

If only all guys thought the way he does, my life wouldn’t be a complete and total mess.

Karen Mueller Bryson writes under four pen names include USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Dakota Madison and AMAZON BESTSELLING AUTHOR Savannah Young. When she's not at her computer creating compelling romance novels she loves to spend time with her husband and their bloodhounds in their home outside Phoenix, Arizona.

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Holding Huck's Heart Release Blitz August 3

Huckleberry “Huck” Webb cares only about the two F’s in life – fighting and being the man-whore he is you can figure out the other. As an up and coming celebrity in the MMA world, he can have all the women he wants, no strings attached. And he does.

Chelsea Harmon is the good girl in a mess. She lived her life under the long arm of the law, her detective father. She couldn’t wait to escape. The big world out there was hers for the taking. Only if something is too good to be true, it usually is. The good girl finds herself in a very bad situation with a very powerful and wealthy man.
Everything changes for them both when Chelsea gets the call to come home. Her mom has stage four breast cancer and the future is uncertain. Doing what a good girl should, she drops everything and finds the perfect excuse to run from her present situation. What happens when two complete opposites find themselves together once more? Can Huck handle Chelsea’s past? Can Chelsea face it all and come out on the other side? After walking away once before, can Huck forgive the girl who always held his heart?

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S.M. Donaldson is a born and raised Southern girl. She grew up in a small rural town on Florida’s Gulf Coast, the kind of place where everyone knows your business before you do, especially when your Daddy is a cop and your Mom works for the school system. She married one of her best friends at the age of 20 and has one son. She is a proud military wife, has always had a soft spot for a good story, and is known to have a potty mouth. At the age of 31, she decided there was no time like the present to attempt her first book. Sam’s Choice was born and she hasn’t stopped since. If you are looking for a good, steamy, Southern set romance with true Southern dialect, she’s your girl.

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