Category: book tour

Putin’s Useful Idiot by Kenyon Kane Genre: Historical Espionage, Romance

November 1984, Richard Hart lands at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport carrying a dossier he doesn’t have security clearance to open, a map of Moscow missing most of the street names, five ten-dollar bills (probably dyed with invisible ink) and an American Express card. Acting as a CIA “financial” agent, Hart must close a deal with the KGB, rig the transaction to produce enough “black money” to bribe KGB hard-liners to retire, and get out alive. And he only has Colonel Putin there to help him. PUTIN’S USEFUL IDIOT is about Richard Hart, a self-centered materialist living in New York City married to a woman half his age, dining out every night at fancy restaurants and spending his weekends shopping with his wife at expensive stores like Bergdorf-Goodman, Henri Bendel, and Gucci. Forced to take an assignment to Moscow, he winds up in an environment where money is worthless because there is nothing to buy, food is scarce and for the most part terrible and even drinking water is impossible to find at times. As he adjusts to his new environment, he comes to find that his materialistic viewpoint is selfish, and in fact unnecessary to his happiness, and as he finds joy in the new friends and relationships he makes, he transforms toward the collective. But is it all a set-up by his partner in crime V. Putin? Is he just another Useful Idiot? As a counterpoint, while Hart is evolving in his social views toward the collective, his Soviet counterparts evolve toward capitalism because the free markets are coming to the Soviet Union and everyone is going to need western currency to survive. Inspired by true events, PUTIN’S USEFUL IDIOT is a ride-along first person, present tense adventure jampacked with danger, passion and humor Add to Goodreads Check out the Kickstarter campaign!

Kenyon Kane grew up in the San Fernando Valley north of Los Angeles before there were freeways. He worked for two US Cabinet Secretaries. His job was to complete financial transactions in the Soviet Union, Grenada and Northern Ireland. Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads

Handcuffs, stamped with a metal hammer and sickle, one cuff locks around my wrist, the other to a
tubular bed frame. Wearing an over-sized bathrobe, with a Soviet star on the pocket, I’m butt naked
underneath, except for the plaster cast on my right leg from mid-thigh to my ankle. Not that I’m shackled
in a contorted position, heck they even gave me a pillow, though it stinks of bleach. But it’s hard to sleep
with one wrist shackled, even though I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight anyway. They don’t want me to sleep,
that’s the point. They want me to think about the evil I’ve done and confess. But it doesn’t really matter
because by this time tomorrow I’ll either be free to go where I want when I want, or I’ll be beat-up and
suffering in a Soviet prison transport headed for a Siberian labor camp. I just hope I don’t have to pee
tonight, but they’ll be coming for me soon enough. And I’ve seen their work, and it ain’t pretty.

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Dagana: The Last Mermaid by Kody Boye Genre: Fantasy Thriller

I have always loved the ocean. Beautiful and tranquil, it seems like it can do absolutely no harm. Until the night my parents go missing, and then are subsequently found dead. Both have been viciously mauled by something off the Gulf—something even the medical examiner claims is an ‘unknown animal.’ But the worst part? I swear I saw something in the water the night they were both killed. But this is no chance occurrence. As the body count begins to rise, and as more tragedies unfold, I realize that something has to be done. Someone has to hunt down, and kill, the monster of Mermaid Cove. That someone is me. Goodreads * Amazon

Though he was born and raised in Southeastern Idaho, Kody Boye has lived in the state of Texas since 2010. His first short story, [A] Prom Queen’s Revenge, was published at the age of fourteen. He has since gone on to publish numerous works of fiction, including the young- adult novels When They Came, The Beautiful Ones, The Midnight Spell and ALT CONTROL ENTER, as well as fiction for adults. He currently lives and writes in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. He is in the process of obtaining an undergraduate in creative writing and plans to pursue an MFA to teach afterward. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Unforgettable Always Book 2 by Lexxie Couper Genre: Contemporary Romance

Sometimes being an optimist is hard work. Brendon Osmond’s an optimist, a fitness geek, a man with a plan and the drive to achieve it. He’s sure he knows everything there is to know about his life and where it’s headed— until he gets one brief text. A text from her. Amanda. The girl who broke his heart. ‘Thinking of you.’ Just three little words, but they’re enough to make Brendon drop everything and head half way around the world to see her. Acting only on gut instinct, nothing can prepare Brendon for the truth he’s about to learn. A truth Amanda kept from him for almost two years. A truth who has Brendon’s eyes and claims his heart in an instant. A truth that comes with a devastating diagnosis with the power to destroy everything he never knew he wanted or held dear. “A heartbreaking, emotional, heartwarming, phenomenal story.” ~ Five Stars. 1-Click Addict Support Group Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Unconditional Always Book 1

Life’s great — it’s the terminal degenerative disease that sucks. Maci is young, smart and about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. It looks like she has the world at her feet, but appearances can be deceiving. Because Maci is not like other college girls. She already knows her future is written and there’s no happy ending in sight. For Raphael, life is all upside. He’s on the fast track to success and nothing can stop him—except his unexpected love for a girl who’s convinced she’ll hold him back. When Maci and Raphael are drawn irresistibly together, they’ll both have to redefine everything they thought they knew about life, love and happy ever after. “One of the BEST New Adult Coming of Age romance books I’ve read… funny, heartwarming and sexy”~ Five Stars, Slick Reads ***The Always series is a 3-book series about love, life, laughter and hope. Originally released under the pen-name Cherie M Hudson, the Always series is Lexxie Couper unlike you’ve read before.*** Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

International bestselling romance author Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn’t stopped since. She’s not a deviant, but she does have a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire…Sometimes all at once. Website * Facebook * Facebook Author * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Unconditional
If Heather said anything else before taking her leave of us, I didn’t hear it. All I could
do was gaze up at Raph.
“You’re not having lunch with Osmond?” he asked, the low question playing havoc
with my sanity.
Christ, he was gorgeous. Have I mentioned that yet? How gorgeous he was? Heart-
clenchingly gorgeous.
I shook my head. I was sure at some point I’d recover the higher brain function to form
words, but at that moment in time, all my higher brain function was occupied being in awe of
how gorgeous and wonderful and sexy and there, right there, Raph was.
Four days, Rowling. The thought whispered through my roaring head. Only four days.
Now so close his knees brushed mine, Raph touched the line of my jaw with the back
of his knuckles. “Lunch with me instead?”
I swallowed. Words still failed me.
Nervous doubt flared in his eyes. “Please?”
I don’t know if it was his uncertainty that helped me find my tongue, the fact it was
obvious he wanted to be with me but feared I was going to deny him, or the way the distinct
scent of him threaded into my very breath. All I knew for certain was that I wanted to spend
every minute I had in Sydney with him.
“Lunch would be wonderful,” I said, my voice husky.
The smile that spread across his face sent a shard of wet, tight, delicious heat straight
through me. Oh boy.
“Excellent. I know just the place.”

He took my hand in his, his palm warm and slightly rough. It reminded me he’d grown
up on a cattle ranch, and that reminded me I was heading to the farm in four days, and that
reminded me I wasn’t going to see him anymore after I left Sydney.
My chest clenched at the thought and, nerve endings thrumming with an elemental
need I didn’t want to name, I tightened my grip on his hand.
Four days. I could live a lifetime in four days. I could.
We walked together through the university grounds, our conversation relaxed. Neither
of us brought up our previous tension, it didn’t need to be addressed. The simple fact I was
here with Raph now was the only thing that mattered.
By the time we got to his ute, we were both laughing. And ignoring the people we
passed photographing us with their smartphones.
Screw it. If they wanted to experience fame by some tenuous thread of association—a
Hey, I saw Raphael Jones and the American chick he’s banging kind of thing— then let
them. As Heather had pointed out, tomorrow something new would be trending on Twitter.
Who knows, maybe Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth would be engaged again?
As we approached his dusty, mud-caked ute, Raph waved his hand about in an
elaborate flourish. “Your chariot, my lady.”
He pulled the door open, revealing the same chaos that I’d encountered yesterday
morning. More Red Bull cans were scattered across the passenger-side floor, along with a
crumpled McDonald’s bag I assumed must have contained yesterday’s lunch or dinner. I
cocked an eyebrow at him.
He let out a rueful chuckle and shrugged. “What can I say?”
I laughed and made a move to deposit myself on the passenger seat. I stopped when I
saw a pile of books. Heart thumping fast, I stared at the titles.
The Parkinson’s Disease Treatment Book.
Parkinson’s Disease: Top Tips to Optimize Function.
Understanding Parkinson’s Disease: A guide for Family and Loved Ones of Sufferers.
Parkinson’s Disease for Dummies.
Living with Someone with Parkinson’s.
“Fuck.”
At Raph’s low mutter, I turned from the books and stared up at him, silent. Inside, I
was a churning, conflicted, angry, sad, ecstatic, confused mess. It was one thing to commit
yourself to a four-day adventure with a guy you really, really, really liked. A guy who turned
you on more than it was probably socially acceptable to admit. It was another to discover said

guy was researching the disease that would ultimately end your life. It told me he was
interested in every part of who I was, not just the healthy parts, the squishy, warm parts that
fit together so well with his warm, not-so-squishy parts. It told me he was thinking about my
life, my future.
It changed the playing field somehow.
“I only …” he began, frustration etching his face before he dropped his gaze to the
incriminating books on the passenger seat. A rough breath left him. He raked a hand though
his hair. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but just let me read about it, okay?” He
looked back at me. “I just … it’s what I do when I don’t understand something. I read about
it.”
I drew a deep breath. I truly had no idea how I felt about that. Hell, I’d only just
decided how I felt about him, and here he was, doing this.
I stared at the book sitting on the top of the pile. Its title tickled a funny bone I didn’t
think I had anymore.
Turning back to Raph, I arched my eyebrow. “Living with Someone with Parkinson’s?
Really? You got plans we haven’t discussed yet? I mean, I know we’ve made out and all, but
I’m not sure I’m ready to move in with—”
He shut me up with a kiss. He swept his tongue into my mouth, grabbed my butt and,
with a chuckle, pulled me close to his body and ground his hips to mine.
Instantly and immediately, I was horny. Horny and happy. Deliriously happy. Who
knew?
At the sound of approaching voices, Raph broke our kiss. I did groan in protest, I’m
afraid.
“We’ll continue this later,” he murmured with a grin before nudging his head toward
the ute. “But for now, you need to get your arse in there, American girl. Before Horn finds
me.”
“Oh, you being naughty?” I asked as I removed the books—Parkinson’s Disease for
Dummies? Seriously?—from the seat and lowered myself into the car.
“Not yet.” Raph leaned into the interior, his eyes dancing. “But I plan to later.”
He winked and, as heat flooded my cheeks, he closed the door.

$40 Amazon gift card plus a little Aussie treat I’ll post to the winner from Down Under Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!a Rafflecopter giveaway

Rain Man Lies He Told Book 2 by Sylvie Grayson Genre: Romantic Suspense

Can Rain solve his last case without getting his girlfriend arrested? Rainier is a survivor. He’s made some mistakes, and now he’s paying for them. As a condition of his probation, he must work with the police on investigations where his skills might be useful. There is one more case to solve to complete his commitments. Then he’ll be free. As he heads undercover to work this last case, Sophia arrives in town. She is a childhood crush who means a great deal to Rain, and she is obviously terrified of someone. Sophia has made a bad choice in the past, and now she’s in hiding to avoid dealing with it. Still, it follows her, and Rainier is the only one she can trust to help her deal with it. Rain’s problem? The clues he uncovers on his final case all seem to lead directly to Sophia. Can he solve the case without breaking his heart or pointing the police in his girlfriend’s direction? **Only .99 cents!!**Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

The Lies He Told Me Lies He told Book 1

When a police detective falls in love with his main suspect, life gets complicated. When Chloe Bowman woke to find her husband gone, never did she imagine it would take so long to find him, or that in the midst of the search she’d discover she didn’t really know this man at all. She soon realizes she has been left alone with her young son and a time bomb on her hands. Then the earthquake throws everything into question. Lurking in the shadows is the mysterious Rainman who travels under an unknown name. Police Detective Ross Cullen was already investigating Chloe’s husband when he disappeared. Although he’s powerfully drawn to Chloe, Ross also knows that when one member of a family disappears, the first place to look for the suspect is among those closest to him. No one is closer than Chloe. But the deeper Ross digs the less he knows, and the more he’s attracted to the young wife as she struggles to put her life back together. Can Ross break through the Rainman’s disguises to solve the case so he can be with Chloe? Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Sylvie Grayson loves to write about suspense, romance and attempted murder, in both contemporary and science fiction/fantasy. She has lived most of her life in British Columbia, Canada in spots ranging from Vancouver Island on the west coast to the North Peace River country and the Kootenays in the beautiful interior. She spent a one year sojourn in Tokyo Japan. She has been an English language instructor, a nightclub manager, an auto shop bookkeeper and a lawyer. Now she works part time as the owner of a small company, and writes when she finds the time. She is a wife and mother and still loves to travel, having recently completed a trip to Singapore, Thailand, Viet Nam and Hong Kong. She lives on the coast of the Pacific Ocean with her husband on a small patch of land near the sea that they call home. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

That night, Sophia was waiting on the front step when Rain pulled up in front of Toby’s house.
She climbed into the truck before he could get out and open the door for her. He put the gear in
neutral with his foot on the brake and stared across as she fumbled for her seat belt. “In quite a
hurry, there,” he observed. “You could at least let me get parked.”
She dimpled a grin at him. “You Prairie boys are always slow,” she said, snapping the belt on.
“Slow on the uptake, or just slow?” he asked.
She gave him a sideways glance. “What’s the difference?”
He smirked. “I’m not about to explain. You Prairie girls are often slow on the uptake.” He shifted
into gear to the sound of her exasperated snuffle. He’d almost forgotten how much fun it was to
tease her.
At the restaurant, she flounced out of the truck and marched toward the entrance. Jogging
around the front of the vehicle, he caught her arm. He’d been looking forward to this evening,
and it looked like it might go off track. “Hold on, now. I was just teasing,” he argued. “I didn’t
mean to hurt your feelings.”
She glared up at him, plump lips pressed tightly together, little dimple flirting in the darkness. “I’d
have to care to have my feelings hurt,” she charged.
“True.” Rain slid his fingers down the silky skin of her arm to grab her hand. “And the only
reason you’re going out to dinner with me is because you don’t know anyone else in town.”
She laughed and he felt her relax. “Not exactly. I’ve met some new people at my job.”
“Huh.” He glanced toward the door of the restaurant to give himself time to think. He didn’t know
anything about a job. “So the only reason you’re going for dinner with me is pity. You feel sorry
for me.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t feel sorry for me if I get to eat dinner
with you. I’m pretty pleased with myself.”
She grinned and leaned into his side. “Rain Man,” she said, “you’re usually pretty pleased with
yourself, as I recall.”
“Ouch,” he said. “That hurt. Are you still going to eat dinner with me?”
“I guess so. I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, me too. And I’m glad you chose Greek, I love moussaka, and baklava.”
“Me too. Especially the baklava.” Her expression turned impish, and Rain couldn’t resist. He
lowered his head and pressed a kiss to those beautiful lips. She took a swift breath and when
he raised his head she was staring at him with a wide-eyed, startled look. He had the same
stunned feeling in his gut.

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Strange Girls A Women in Horror Anthology with stories selected by Azurra Nox Genre: YA Horror

For fans of American Horror Story, Shirley Jackson, and Creepshow. You know them. Those girls that aren’t quite like everyone else. Those girls who stand out in the crowd. Those girls that dare to be different. Those girls are dangerous. In Strange Girls, twenty-one authors dare to tackle what makes the girls in this collection different. Vampires, selkies, murderous mermaids, succubus, and possessed dolls take center stage in these short stories that are sure to invoke feelings of quiet terror and uneasiness in the reader. Following the successful debut of Women in Horror anthology with My American Nightmare, Strange Girls is the sophomore effort to showcase these talented women in a genre that is often dominated by the male gaze. Dare to take a walk on the dark side. Stories in the Anthology: 24 Hour Diner by Charlotte Platt Sideshow by Jude Reid The Doll’s House by Alyson Faye Blood by Red Claire Self-Portrait with Pears by Rachel Bolton Personal Demons by Angelique Fawns Friends with Benefits by E.F. Schraeder Night Terrors by Angela Sylvaine The Girl Who Never Stopped Bleeding by Sam Lauren Leda and the Fly by Marnie Azzarelli Jenny’s Bobo by Hillary Lyon Extinguishing Fireflies by Rebecca Rowland The Eyes of the Dead by Danielle R. Bailey My Mirror Wife by Ash Tudor Pattern of Faerytales by Azzurra Nox Campfire Tales: The Bloody Rings by Emma Johnson- Rivard Cracked by Regan Moore Angel of Death by Phoebe Jane Johnson Her Garden Grows by Maxine Kollar Revival by Madison Estes A Song Only She Can Hear by Wondra Vanian Tribal Influence by Erica Ruhe Goodreads * Amazon

Born in Catania, Sicily, Azzurra Nox has led a nomadic life since birth. She has lived in various European cities and Cuba, and currently resides in the Los Angeles area. Always an avid reader and writer from a young age, she loved entertaining her friends with ghost stories. She loves horror movies, cats, and a good rock show. She dislikes Mondays and chick-flicks. CUT HERE, her debut paranormal urban fantasy was inspired by a nightmare the writer had a few years ago. Some of her favourite authors include Anne Rice, Oscar Wilde, Chuck Palahniuk, and Isabella Santacroce. Website * Blog * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

From the short story: Sideshow
The snake-girl feigns surprise to perfection when she stops in front of Sylvia. Surely she must
have noticed her before, but then, perhaps in the dimly lit room the presence of another girl has gone
unnoticed by her up until this moment. Sylvia feels the blood rush to her face, unable to tear her gaze
from the deep golden eyes that are suddenly inches from her own. The smell of incense is
overwhelming, and her head spins so violently that she wonders if she is about to faint. The dancer
reaches a hand towards her, brushing the back of her warm, dry fingers down Sylvia’s cheek, lingering
on lips, chin, the hollow of her throat, the lapel of Ritchie’s jacket where it sits over the curve of her
breast. Sylvia is aware of the noise of her own breath, blood rushing quick in her ears. The dancer is
silent, holding her in amber eyes like a butterfly pinned to a board—
And then the snake-girl is laughing, her hands around Richie’s neck, pulling him to his feet,
dancing the pair of them up onto the stage. Richie, all red cheeks and grinning white teeth, is looking
back over his shoulder, not at Sylvia but at the rest of the noisy, envious crowd. He waves triumphantly
to them, and they whoop and curse and cheer and applaud as he is led across the sandy stage – this
lucky one, their appointed representative, through the curtain, and away.
The music fades, and the soft lighting of the tent is replaced with a harsh electric glare. The
tent’s flap opens, and the boy starts ushering the audience outside, cheerfully wishing them better luck
next time. The crowd dissipates into a cloud of lust and frustration, and Sylvia is left standing with her
face to the sealed-up canvas door.
Five minutes pass, and then ten. She considers wandering away, but she has nowhere better to
be, no one else to be with, and more than that, she wonders what Richie will have to say on his return.
The possibility is there that this event might be all that is needed to end things between them, although
she is still not entirely sure how exactly she would feign the requisite level of outrage and betrayal. She

could tell her parents, but she doubts their reaction would be anything more than an indulgent
acceptance of the fact that “boys will be boys”.
The carnival is taking on its nocturnal plumage, and there are no longer children around her;
instead, there are clusters of young men and women, courting couples, the occasional older man. Most
of the activity seems concentrated around the Ferris wheel, and she watches it lurch into life, music and
light streaming down to the ground below. It’s so loud that it takes her a while to notice that the snake-
charming music has started again, although the Medusa tent is still pitch black.
She picks her way through the guy ropes round to the back of the tent, noting the skip and
scratch of the gramophone needle as she goes. Something is moving in the light behind the tent, shapes
dancing on the canvas wall opposite, but the shadow play is formless, without meaning. She can hear
quick, grunting breaths, a noise she recognizes as Richie’s. She creeps forward, fascinated, repulsed
and suddenly eager to learn what exactly is occurring in the little space behind the tent.
Cast in the light of a single lantern, Richie on the ground. At first it seems he is wrapped in
heavy rope and for one wild moment she wonders if she has stumbled upon a kidnapping—and then the
rope moves, and she realizes that he is held in the coils of an enormous green-gold serpent, one easily
twice the size of the snake the girl had carried in the show. The grunts she had heard are his shallow,
desperate attempts to breathe.
The coils shift and tighten, and Richie lets out a breathless, panicky squeal. He jerks his head
back, desperately trying to loosen the crushing grip that holds him, and the movement brings her into
his line of sight. His face twists with recognition and a surge of obvious relief.
“Sylvia—” he manages. “Help—”

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