Category: book tour

“Ash Lockler?” she said, looking up at him. She looked away from his intense gaze for a moment.
Clearing her throat, she met his eyes again. Ash nodded and neatly folded his big frame into the booth,
opposite her. He maintained his poker face as he rested his forearms on the table, hands folded. He held
her gaze for a moment before he spoke quietly. “I trust you will provide what I expect.” He surveyed her
pretty face framed by all that long, wildly curly, dark hair. She would do nicely.
Her lips parted to speak, but she hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. He found her actions
amusing, assuming this was her first time in dealing with someone like him. The underworld of vampires
and other nocturnal beings was definitely not for this little, gentle mouse. She was beautiful but too timid
and nervous for his taste. He caught her staring before she lowered her gaze and reached for her small
knit bag.
“Yes. I have it right here. Five thousand cash. You can count it. That should settle my brother’s debt to
you.”
Ash’s eyes narrowed in irritation. Declan McDade. The little weasel. Unfortunately for his family, he had
grown up to be exactly like his father, Martin. They both shared an unhealthy fascination with underworld
dealings. His next words were measured. “I’m afraid that five thousand doesn’t even come close to what
your brother owes me. His debt is a lot closer to one hundred thousand.”
Her lips went slack, and she promptly snapped her mouth shut. Ash went on. “Your money, in short, is
no good. A different sort of payment was arranged between myself and Declan.”
“What do you want, then? My house?” Delilah’s voice was strangely hoarse, and she took a hasty sip of
water.
“No, your house is safe. I want your body on a long- term basis. Anywhere from six months to one year
would work,” Ash replied simply.

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After
an accident stole his surfing career, Ashton Evans has a chance to
reinvent his life by photographing the leaders of the World Surfing
League. The problem? Summer Roberts is his first client. Now the
woman he can’t forget is spending long, hot Indonesian days in
front of his lens. In a bikini. And worse, she’s steaming up his
nights.

 

But
no matter how tempting Summer is, Ashton must keep his hands to
himself. For the sake of her career, Summer is pretending she’s
still in a relationship with someone else. Being seen with Ashton
could blow her chance at making it onto the World Surfing League
leader board for good. But with their attraction as unstoppable as
one of the giant ocean waves that rule their lives, will they be
tumbled under by it? Or will Ashton finally get his second shot with
Summer?

Get
ready for a wet, hot ride.

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Maya
Taylor is all sass and style when it comes to closing a PR deal, but
when it comes to men, she has about as much witty banter as a
drowning grommet. So when fashion mogul, Dominic Wolfe, enters her
life, he seems to be bringing the perfect deal.

She’ll
teach him all there is to know about the highly competitive side of
surf sponsorship. And in return, Dominic will turn the beautiful
surf-klutz into a man-magnet. Dream deal, right?

Only
the lessons start getting hotter than the beach mid-summer and
Dominic realizes he wants more. Much more. But the deal was their
relationship wouldn’t cross the line between business and pleasure…

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You can get in touch
through facebook or twitter or through her website and blog
www.micheledewinton.com

Excerpt from Another Shot with Summer
The photographer had suggested using the very end of Grumari Beach
for their shoot, and now Summer could see why. Part of an
environmental reserve about fifteen miles from the main sand bar and
shops, it had a deserted island feel, although nowhere in Brazil could
strictly be called deserted. She headed over to where a man moved
around a stack of camera equipment, his back to her.
“I thought about doing something more urban. You know, with the
backdrop of Rio to spice up the image, but it seemed wrong. If the
client really wants sun-kissed, this is about as sun-kissed as it gets.”
Summer froze. That voice. And then the photographer stood from
where he’d been partially hidden behind his gear. The full impact of
Maya’s text sunk in.
“You!” Summer’s heart swelled to twice its usual size, and she felt
the blood beating all the way up to her ears. Ashton. The man whose
picture she’d kept under her pillow as a teenager, and the man who
had haunted her loneliest moments as a young woman. The bastard.
“Oh. She said she’d squared it away with you. She pulled a fast one
on both of us, huh?”
“Don’t worry. The cab can’t have got far. I’ll just call him back.”
Ashton caught her arm as she swiveled to leave, and she tried to
pull free as if he’d stung her. Her reaction to his touch was the same as
when she’d been a teenager. Hot, firm, sending her senses into sharp
overdrive, his fingers made her skin burn. These were feels she was
not ready to feel again.
He dropped his hand, and there was an awkward moment where
they looked at each other, frozen, and Summer realized he felt it, too.
His face was shocked, his eyes wide. The moment grew longer, her
breath catching in her throat as she waited, unsure of what to do next.
Then his pupils returned to normal, and his face softened. “We’re
here now, and the light is about to turn. Maya’s told the client I’m on
the job, so I need to get the shots. I’ll just be the photographer.
Everything else…” He waved his hand between them. “It’s history.
Ancient history.”
She felt his gaze on her a moment longer than was strictly
necessary. She brushed at her face, as if trying to get the sensation of
him off her skin. Then her awe turned to anger. “I guess it is all about
you, after all. Wouldn’t want you missing out on keeping your newclient happy.”
“That’s not what I meant. Shit.” He rubbed his chin. “This is not
how I wanted to see you again after so long.” He looked about as if
trying to find a distraction and came up empty. “I’m a different guy
behind the camera. I promise.”
She kicked the sand and wished the extra freckles the sun had added to
her face today would fade instantly. Nothing like freckles to make a
girl feel like a girl, instead of a woman. You are not a girl. Be the
bigger person.
There was an awkward pause. She straightened. “Fine,” she said. That
was all she was going to give him. Short, calm, professional.

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Today’s
modern woman doesn’t need to be put in a category to serve men, and
I’m sorry if you think my advice lacks heart-warmth, or whatever it
was you said. It is what it is.

Now
maybe you should take a lesson or two from me. It could spice up your
love life in the most unimaginable ways. Imagine being with a woman
who will rock your world. It’s the difference between a $2 hook up
and a mind-blowing experience.

I
will gladly show you what I mean, so call me if you need
clarification on any of the matters discussed. I look forward to
meeting you.

~Paige

That,
was the letter he wasn’t supposed to get…

Jesus
Christ, I was drunk. Wasted, off my face drunk.

I
didn’t know how in the hell I managed to get myself in these sorts
of crazy situations.

And…
I didn’t know that letter would open up my own personal Pandora’s
Box where my heart was in for the ride of its’ life…

She
is well traveled, cultured, and a woman with a passion for dancing
and ice skating.

When
not writing you can catch her shopping, indulging on pizza and hot
chocolate, or hanging out with her family and friends.

No
need to spend money on an airline ticket. Simply pick up one of
Khardine’s books to become immersed in the fascinating stories and
characters she creates.

 

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KeepingCarlie’s secret is pretty simple when all she has to do is avoid
dead people. But when a cheerleader at her high school is murdered
and the killer seems to have gotten away with it, Carlie knows what
she has to do. With the help of her boyfriend, Dillon, she devises a
plan to see what she must, no matter her personal safety.

But
when Dillon is the one who’s injured in the showdown with the
killer, Carlie vows to never help anyone again…until the next young
woman attacked is her best friend, Jenna.

Lee
Ann Ward is an award-winning fiction author with a background in
journalism and mass communications. She is also the former Senior
Editor of Champagne Books. Her love of books started at the age of
three, and she’s been addicted ever since. She’s published six novels
with her seventh and eighth on the way (SEE a YA paranormal by
Evernight Teen in June 2017 and GLIMPSES OF WILDERNESS a YA romance
by Inkspell Publishing in December 2017) and has written several
more. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, singing, baking designer
cakes, bowling and dreaming. She’s married to Joe (who also happensto be her publicist) and they have 4 sons whom they adore, and a
granddaughter who is the love of their life. They make their home in
the small fishing community of Bayou La Batre, Alabama. 

Website
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I was five and a half when I realized I could see him. I was five and a half, two days, and six hours when I
realized he could see me too.
There was nothing extraordinary about that night. Mom had long put me to bed, and she and Dad were
watching an unsolved cold case show on TV. By the time I’d made my way downstairs for an
unnecessary drink of water, a picture of a murdered lady was flashing on the screen. No one knew who’d
killed her, and the cops had looked for the murderer for several years and given up.
“That’s such a shame,” my dad had said. He was still around then.
“Yeah, it is.” Mom’s words were dragging and nonchalant, as if she were reacting to some lame laundry
detergent commercial or something.
But not me. There I stood in my Belle Disney Princess nightgown, my gaze transfixed on the television. I
couldn’t move—couldn’t look away. Something about the image of that dead woman struck a chord—her
lifeless body and wide, opened eyes.
All I could do was scream. “I know who killed her!” I remember the panic, the way it made my stomach
ache and my skin crawl. “I know who did it! I can see his face!”
“Carlie.” Dad picked me up, the exasperation in his voice as clear to me now as it had been ten years ago.
“What are you doing out of bed? This is way too scary for you to be watching.”
I was crying so hard my nose was running. “Daddy, I know who killed her! I can see him! I really can!”
Mom turned off the TV and took me from Dad. The puzzled look she threw him let me know she was at
least listening to my wild claim, and to this day I’m grateful for her next move.
“Do you want Mommy to draw a picture of the face you’re seeing, sweet girl? Would that make you feel
better?”
“Linda, what the hell are you doing? Don’t encourage her.” Dad was pissed at me to be up that late. He
was always such a tight ass about things like bedtime.
“It might help her,” Mom insisted. “Something obviously has her freaked out, Patrick. I’m getting my
sketchbook.”
It’s the one time I was actually glad that my mom’s a sketch artist for the Pensacola Police Department’s
Homicide Division. People describing perps to her so she can draw them never bothered me. But the
photos of decomposed bodies—the ones of unidentified missing persons that she has to create faces for—
totally creeps me out.
Mom lit a lavender candle to help me relax and set me on her knee. “Go ahead, honey. Tell me what the
man looks like.”
One hour and three holy shits from Dad later, I’d described a killer’s face, and Mom had him on paper. I
was sure of it. But my parents were convinced I was simply spooked from seeing the dead lady on that
show.
Until two nights later when he came for me.

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It’sjust that, I’m not always laughing. Not even on the inside. Nobody
knows the real Greg or the agony I hide with humor. My recently dead
sister had a clue, but she’s in no position to blab. I screwed up
big time—then and now—but it’s all my undoing. Through
everything, Hadley’s been my cure and my curse. And I fell in love
with my married best friend. But she wasn’t always married, and I
wasn’t always broken.

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