Daily Archives: July 27, 2015
[Reckless Surrender is book two in the Made for Love series but can be read as a STAND ALONE novel. Written for audiences 18+ years of age.]
Three and a half years ago, Daphne walked into my shop, kicked open the door to my soul, invited herself inside, and got comfortable. By the time I realized she’d made herself at home, it was too late to kick her out. Now, I’m in love with her. But I’m not her boyfriend. She’s not my lover. We’re just friends…Trevor’s it for me. I love him so much it drives me crazy. But we’re broken—two battered people whose souls have been ravaged by the world. We decided a long time ago that we wanted to love each other but not attempt to fix one another. Instead, we give each other as much as we can. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s ever going to be enough…
I don’t want to be her bandaid.
I don’t want to be his addiction.
But if we never cross that line, will I lose her?
If I don’t tell him what I want, will I lose myself?
R.C. Martin finds it a bit awkward referring to herself in the third person, so she’s only going to do it for this one sentence. (We all know who’s writing this bio anyway!)
I’m a born and bred Coloradan. I will always claim that square state as my home! While I now reside in Virginia, the land of the Rocky Mountains is where I’ve left a piece of my heart and where my characters come to life. I’m a woman in love with love and filled to the brim with compassion for women like me, on a journey to find themselves in today’s society. I aspire to inspire my readers to do more than settle. I hope that my writing will remind everyone that she (or he!) is valuable and worthy of the best kind of love–the kind that is gentle, patient, faithful, passionate, all consuming, never ending, and leaves you breathless.
When I’m not writing I’m reading; when I’m not reading I’m writing…you know how it goes! I also enjoy cooking, baking, crocheting, and jigsaw puzzles. Basically, I’m an old soul with a young heart, nonchalantly waiting for my prince to come.
@givemebooksblog #BewareofBadBoy @AprilBrookshire #Sale book1 #Free http://amzn.to/1LFMprn
From enemies to friends to lovers sounds like a modern-day fairytale. Unfortunately, their love is forbidden and a wicked stepmother will do anything to keep them apart. Monsters and creatures in the forms of Gianna’s ex-boyfriend and Caleb’s past conquests attack from all sides.
The road to happily ever after isn’t paved in gold and there are many obstacles to overcome, but a bad boy becomes a Prince Charming and a Sleeping Beauty awakens.
April Brookshire is the author of the Beware of Bad Boy and Young Assassins series. She also co-authors the Dead Chaos series. She writes under the contemporary romance and apocalyptic fantasy genres and has a few projects in the works for 2015/2016.
Growing up with four brothers, she doesn’t like most chick flicks but devours romance books of all genres. A book addict, she’s read almost two thousand books to date.
April lives in a suburb of Denver, Colorado, where she raises her young son. When she isn’t writing, she’s usually reading, but also enjoys attending concerts and plays in the numerous venues of the city.
I understand why I have the nickname. Hey, what can I say? I like women. All women. It doesn’t matter what shape, size, or color. I’m even into sharing. I’ve done it all, seen it all, but I’m at an all-time low. Who wouldn’t be? My best friend is missing. My uncle’s an asshole. I don’t know who I am without The Nights. We are a band of brothers, soldiering through the world with our music. Only, our faithful leader is gone, and everyone else in the band is falling for the oldest trap: love. Love is a lie. It is painful. It is hurtful.
I need a break. I want to be alone. I’m not prepared to share the exclusive home on the Island. I’m not prepared for her. I don’t know who she is or why she’s here. She tells me to call her Ireland. I tell her my first name only. Originally, I don’t want to believe she doesn’t recognize me. Bass guitarist for The Nights, come on? After a while we both play the game. Secrets are another form of lies, aren’t they?
Our fantasy will crash to reality too soon. Secrets catch up to you. The truth has to be told. It confirms what I already know: love is a lie.
Truth of Tristan Lyons excerpt © L.B. Dunbar
to know how she got in the house. Damn these fangirls, sometimes. They knew no shame.
hard enough, the sheer surprise forced me to let go of her.
was able to see her big blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose.
Her chin length blonde hair fell forward as she bent to clasp her knees and
catch her breath.
looking pink lips.
for her upper arm again. “I don’t know how you got in here, where you came
from, or how you found me, but you need to go.”
across the tile flooring. She pulled back, and the force made her skid on an
angle across the slippery surface as I dragged her. She continued to glare at
me quizzically, leaning away from me.
she was being serious.
the innocence in her blue eyes, and the fact she looked like she might cry.
Something wasn’t right with this scenario.
top of that, she said it in such a way that showed she was thoroughly confused,
and almost disgusted with me, for even asking such a ridiculous question. She wrinkled
press against my chest as leverage. I had tugged my shirt off at some point
while I was passed out, and her warm hand felt good on my air-conditioned cool
skin. Her hand was tiny, I noticed. All of her was thin.
where the mix up is.”
wider, if that was possible, and her face was suddenly full of something I
couldn’t read. Her blue eyes brightened in a frightening sort of way. Was that
fear? Good, she should be afraid.
I swear. I’m allowed to be here. You don’t need to call Isa.”
that I let her call my bluff.
As a matter of fact, I won’t even be in your way. You won’t even know I’m here.
I plan to keep to myself.” Her eyes were glassy, and again I worried she was about to cry.
arm, holding it against her chest. She began rubbing her upper arm with the
opposite hand. I noticed again that she was thin, as were her breasts. I didn’t
care for small chested girls. I didn’t care for her.
disgusted expression on her face and wrinkled her nose as she pulled back.
“Hiding,” she replied.
L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.
I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?
As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.
I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.
So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.
I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.
She’s beautiful, confident, successful, and the co-owner of a new business,
Cheer-Mania Academy, with her sister, Polly.
woman stifled by rules.
guardian of Paige’s fourteen year old student, Gabrielle, she believes Jordy
may be the man of her dreams.
teen means a whole new set of rules, and Paige isn’t so sure she can handle it.
along with Victorian and Edwardian era photography and antique poison bottles.
Natalie contributes her uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in
working on her next book and adding to her collection of 19th century