BOOKS AND BLOGGING PHILOSOPHY

Philosophy is defined as a theory underlying or regarding a sphere of activity or thought. Well, my theory is if I can add at least 10 new books to my Wishlist and move at least 5 older Wishlist selections to my TBR list every month, then life is a ice cream sundae. And if I can find those 10 books from at least 5 new blogs each month then that's the cherry on top.

NEW VISITORS AND OLD- WELCOME!

NEW VISITORS AND OLD- WELCOME!
Well, I've made it almost 5 years now, so for better or worse, I continue on. I tend to blog in spurts as the urge to be creative erupts. As I don't have an artistic bone in my body, you will see very few changes in the layouts. Hey, I'm a reader not an artist like so many of the awesome bloggers I follow. I know you don't always have the time but if you stopped and looked, take a half a minute and say your piece. Recommend a book that you have enjoyed or hated for that matter. Thank you to all who visit.
Oh, and I moved my Google Friend Connect info and share this buttons to the top, as without our friends, who are we?


Sunday, April 30, 2017

Launch Day Blitz & Giveaway For RIOT STREET by Tyler King

RIOT STREET 
 Tyler Kind
April 30, 2017
 Forever Yours eBook
 $3.99

Sometimes, getting in too deep is the only way to survive…

As darkly charismatic as he is unpredictable, Ethan Ash knows me better than I know myself.  He’s spent years unraveling the family scandal I’ve tried desperately to escape.  I once thought that made us adversaries.  Now he’s the closest ally I have left.  

Ethan’s both the chaos around me and the deep, calm center where I feel safe.  People warn me about him, tell me he’s dangerous.  Don’t fall for him.  But its too late.  Beacuase I can’t tell where my addiction ends…and his obsession begins.

Buy the Book!
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2lEV5sd

About the Author
Tyler King was born and raised in Orlando, Florida and graduated from the University of Central Florida with a degree in Creative Writing. As a journalist, her work has appeared in Orlando magazine and Orlando Business Journal, among other publications. She is a proud army spouse currently living in Virginia with her husband.

Social Media Links
Add Riot Street to your shelf on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2mkeyLJ

Giveaway
Enter to win 1 of 15 free ebook downloads of Riot Street

Excerpt:

Friday, April 28, 2017

Cover Reveal For MISTAKEN IDENTITY By M.C. Jackson

Mistaken Identity
by M.C. Jackson
Publication Date: May 16, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense
Design: IndieSage
The last time I saw my sister was the day before she vanished from my life. I’ve spent the last five years searching for her, clinging to the hope that one day I will find out what happened to her, but every lead has ended up at a dead end.
Until now.
He took me because he thinks I’m Her.
My instinct is to run. I want to fight my way out of there, but I can’t. This man is my only connection to my sister. I’ll do whatever it takes to uncover the truth. Even if it means falling right into the arms of a psychopath.
GR

About M.C. Jackson

M.C Jackson is a wife, mother, reader and author. Her debut release, Mistaken Identity is a psychological romantic suspense full of twists that you won't see coming. When she's not writing or reading, you'll find her spending time with her husband and kids.



Book Enthusiast Promotions



Effective April 27, 2017, Book Enthusiast Promotions and DRC Promotions will cease to exist...They re-emerge as Buoni Amici Press, LLC, a Full Service Literary PR Firm. 

After a few years of hobnobbing with each other online and working together on a few joint projects Debra Presley, Book Enthusiast Promotions and Drue Hoffman, DRC Promotions became friends and began discussing ways they could help authors become successful. With a mutual desire to celebrate the great authors and books they come across they decided to pool their vast knowledge and resources together and Buoni Amici Press, LLC was born.

Combined, they bring authors nearly 10 years experience in book marketing, promotions and design and a desire to bring authors stellar services and sleek design.




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This Girl Reads...and Writes April Issue is out!


Issue 2 is live! Check out all the amazing reviews, articles and interviews!
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Blog Tour For NEVER TRUST A PIRATE By Valerie Bowman


The rules of engagement were never so scandalous. . .

A rumored pirate and the scurrilous black sheep of his well-to- do family, Cade Cavendish relishes his world of rebellion, deception, and seduction. Nothing and no one can hold him to be the duty-bound, honorable man he is expected to be. But when an unexpected run-in at his twin brother’s estate with a ravishing, raven-haired maid leads her to believe he’s actually a viscount, Cade’s renegade life is thrown wildly off-kilter. And even though a case of mistaken identity can be quickly set to rights, matters of the heart are quite different…

Miss Danielle LaCrosse is startled to learn that the handsome gentleman who radiates sin and has the devil in his eyes is not her employer the Viscount, but rather his infamous brother. A former heiress, orphaned and left penniless, Danielle has more than a few secrets of her own. Cade may be skilled at coaxing even the most hidden desires out of Danielle but can he earn her trust—and win her heart—as they embark on an adventure to confront a dangerous enemy from both of their pasts . . . and uncover the identity of the so-called Black Fox along the way?

Never Trust a Pirate is part of the Regency-set Playful Brides series by Valerie Bowman.
Buy Links:



EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE

London Harbor, July 1817
Only three steps. Only three steps separated him from the map. It was there, laying on the rickety wooden table in the captain’s stateroom aboard a ship aptly named Le Secret Francais. The only sound in the cramped space was his own breathing. Sweat beaded on his brow. He’d come this far. Braved the murky, cold water, swam out to the ship moored at the London docks. Climbed aboard silent as a wraith, dressed all in black. Wrung out his clothing to keep it from dripping so there wouldn’t be a trail. Managed to steal into the captain’s quarters as the man slept, and now, now only three steps remained between him and the priceless map.
One water droplet fell to the wooden plank floor like a hammer against steel. The sound of his breath echoed to a crescendo. The blood pounding in his head became a distracting whirring noise.
One step forward. The ball of his foot ground onto the plank. Stealth and silence. Always. The calling cards of the best thief in London.
The captain stirred slightly in his bunk and began to snore.
He froze. One leather-clad foot arrested on the wooden plank. A pistol rested on two nails directly above the captain’s bunk. If the man awoke, he might shoot first at any noise. The captain well knew the value of the treasure he carried.
He counted to ten. Once. Twice. He had long since mastered the art of keeping footing on a ship. He waited until his heartbeats became steady again before taking the next step. A slight creak in the wood floor. A hint of movement from the captain. Another endless wait. Impatience was a roiling knot inside his belly.
Out of the shadows now, he stood only one step away from the table bolted to the floor. The moon shone through the window above the captain’s bed, shedding light on the man’s balding head. The map lay spread out, anchored by pins in the four corners. He would have to remove those pins. Ripping the paper would be too noisy.
Another interminable wait as the captain turned away from him in his sleep. His snores subsided.
He glanced over at the bunk. The pistol shone in the moonlight. One hard swallow. He never carried a pistol. Too loud. Pistols brought the crew, the wharf police, and anyone else interested in such activity. The only weapon he carried was a knife, tucked in the back of his breeches. A weapon of stealth.
Another count to ten before taking the final step. There was no time for an in-depth study of the map now, but a quick glance revealed the destination. The island of St. Helena, off the western coast of Africa, circled in bold scrawl. The map of the route planned for Bonaparte’s next escape. That bastard in the bed had been planning it.
All ten fingers itched to snatch the paper and run, but he forced himself to take a deep, silent breath. Carefully, he dislodged the first pin at the top right corner. It popped out easily. The top of the map rolled toward the center, making a slight flapping sound. Breath held, he glanced toward the captain again. No movement.
He stuck the pin back into the table to keep it from rolling, then his hand darted to the next pin at the bottom right corner. It also popped out easily. He quickly stuck it back into the wood. With two sides free, he carefully rolled the map toward the center. Reaching up to the top, he grasped the third pin. No movement. It was lodged deeply into the wood. Must pull harder. With one black-gloved hand, he clasped the pin between a thumb and two fingers, pulling upward with as much strength as he dared. His own breath in his ear was the only sound … that and the water lapping at the sides of the ship.
The pin finally gave way. He pressed a hand to the top of the map, to keep the freed top left corner from curling and making a noise. His chest and torso flattened against the map and the table, he pressed the third pin back into the wood.
Click. An unmistakable sound. One he had heard too often before. Another hard swallow. Damn it. He’d been so preoccupied with keeping quiet, he hadn’t realized the captain’s snores had subsided.
Half-splayed across the table, he contemplated his options. The door was ten paces to the left, the open window five paces to the right. Would he fit through the window? It’d be a hell of a time to learn the answer was no.
“Step away from zee map, if you don’t want a bullet through your back.” The captain’s voice was harsh and angry.
He slowly rose from his position hunched over the map, arms braced upright at right angles near his head to show the captain he had no weapon. “Ye wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, now would ye, Cap’n?”
“I’d shoot a thief without thinking twice,” the captain replied with a sneer, nearly spitting the word thief.
He glanced down at the map. Studying it in case he was forced to leave without it. He had been in worse situations, more times than he could count. He considered the knife in the back of his breeches hidden beneath his shirt. It would be simple, easy and quick to snake it out and whip it into the bastard’s throat. But a voice in his head reminded him … justice must be served in proper course.
“Turn around,” the captain ordered. “Slowly.”
“Why?” he asked, trying to garner some precious time.
“Because I want to see zee face of zee man who would steal my secrets.”
He began his turn. Slowly. So slowly and so quietly that he could have sworn he heard a drop of sweat from his forehead hit the wooden plank of the floor. He finally stood facing the older man.
Êtes-vous le Renard Noir?” the captain asked.
Pourquoi veux tu savoir?”
Visible in the light of the moon, the captain narrowed his eyes. “Ah, perfect French? Why do I find zat difficult to believe from an obvious Englishman?”
“Obvious?”
“Who else would want zis map?”
His fingers ached to choke the bastard. He might not be able to kill him, but he could wound the scoundrel. Nothing wrong with a wound. He whipped his hand behind his back, grabbed the knife, and hurled it at the captain. It hit the arm that held the pistol. The captain howled. The pistol fired. Smoke filled the cabin with its acrid stench. He ripped the map and fourth pin from the table and ran to the door.
Steps sounded on the planks above the captain’s cabin. In the pitch black belowdecks, he forced himself to wait in the shadows under the stairs until the first group of rescuers filed down the steps into the captain’s cabin. He flattened the map’s scroll and folded it into a six-inch square.
“He’s escaped, you idiots! Find him before he jumps from the ship!” the captain yelled in French.
The group dutifully filed back up to spread across the decks. The captain came running out, clutching his injured arm, blood seeping between his fingers, crimson dripping down his nightshirt. He made his way up the stairs and ran off across the deck.
Springing from the shadows, he raced back into the empty cabin. He flew over to the window, said a brief prayer to fit through the tight space, hoisted up to the ledge, and pushed his upper body through. He ripped off his black tricorn, stuck the folded map to his head, and pulled down the hat as firmly as possible.
A rope swung outside the captain’s window two feet to the right. Thank God for small favors. He lunged at it and grabbed it. Noiselessly, he lowered himself down the rope, bracing both feet against the hull to rappel toward the water. Lowering quietly, he winked back at the figurehead of a saucy French woman carved beneath the captain’s cabin. As soon as he made it into the water, he let go of the rope and swam like a mackerel fleeing a shark toward the shore, careful to keep his head out of the foul-smelling drink. He counted on the black of night and the murky Thames to hide him from the searchers on the ship.
As he covered the distance between the French ship and the shore, he could hear the Frenchmen yelling and running about. He dared a glance back. Every lantern on the ship appeared to have been lit and the crew was scurrying about like a bevy of ants on an infiltrated hill.
He swam to the darkest spot on the far end of the docks, around the bend from sight of the French ship, and pulled himself ashore beneath a creaky dock using only his forearms. Exhausted, he rolled onto his back and lay breathing heavily in the pitch-black night. One hand went up to clap the top of his tricorn and a wide smile spread across his face.
He’d done it. He’d escaped from a French ship with the map detailing the planned route to rescue Napoleon from St. Helena. Of course he had. He was the Black Fox.

Copyright © 2017 by Valerie Bowman and reprinted with the permission of St. Martin’s Paperbacks.
Valerie Bowman grew up in Illinois with six sisters (she’s number seven) and a huge supply of historical romance novels. After a cold and snowy stint earning a degree in English with a minor in history at Smith College, she moved to Florida the first chance she got. Valerie now lives in Jacksonville with her family including her mini-schnauzer, Huckleberry. When she’s not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV and PBS. She is the author of the Secret Brides series, starting with Secrets of a Wedding Night, Secrets of a Runaway Bride, and Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage.

Social Links:

Facebook: @ValerieBowmanAuthor
Twitter: @ValerieGBowman


Excerpt Blitz/Giveaway & Blog Tour For TOUGHEST COWBOY IN TEXAS By Carolyn Brown


Title: Toughest Cowboy In Texas

Series: Happy Texas #1

Author: Carolyn Brown
Genre: Cowboy Romance
Publishers: Forever Publishing
(May 30, 2017)
Paperback: 352 pages
ISBN: 978-1455597444
FTC Disclosure: ARC provided by the publisher via Netgalley

The Spark of an Old Flame
Last time Lila Harris was in Happy, Texas, she was actively earning her reputation as the resident wild child. Now, a little older and wiser, she's back to run her mother's café for the summer. Except something about this town has her itching to get a little reckless and rowdy, especially when she sees her old partner-in-crime, Brody Dawson. Their chemistry is just as hot as ever. But he's still the town's golden boy-and she's still the wrong kind of girl. 
Brody hasn't had much time lately for anything other than ranching. Running the biggest spread in the county and taking care of his family more than keeps him busy. All that responsibility has him longing for the carefree days of high school-and Lila. She may have grown up, but he still sees that spark of mischief in her eyes. Now he's dreaming about late-night skinny dipping and wondering how he can possibly resist the one woman he can never forget...


Usually, I'll read the ARC of a book closer to the release date but the minute I get a Carolyn Brown book on my Kindle, I'll drop everything and read it. This is the kind of read that is perfect for that day at the pool when you don't have to do anything but flip a page, sip a cold drink and wipe a tear from your eye. Heck, every day is a perfect day for a Carolyn Brown book! 


PREORDER THE BOOK HERE


THE HAPPY, TEXAS SERIES

TOUGHEST COWBOY IN TEXAS, #1
LONG, TALL COWBOY CHRISTMAS, #2



TOUGHEST COWBOY IN TEXAS Teaser Excerpt

She picked up her pace, but Brody matched his long strides with hers.
“Don’t feel like you have to walk me my vehicle. I’m a big girl and I’ve been takin’ care of myself for years.”
“You’ve always been able to take care of yourself, Lila, but I want to walk with you.” His hand went to her lower back.
The intense heat would probably leave an imprint on her back for days, but she didn’t argue or shrug his hand away.
When they reached her bright pink truck, he gave a low whistle. “Nice.”
She found her keys and touched a button that started the engine. “I left the motorcycle at home.”
“Oh, really?” His expression said that he didn’t believe her.
“Yep, I didn’t want to get to the bar and have helmet head.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why would you be so surprised? I am, after all, the resident wild child of Happy, Texas. I’m surprised there’s not a picture of me beside the city limits sign warning everyone to steer clear of that Lila Harris. If you rub shoulders with her, you get an instant ticket to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Just get ready for the ride.”
“Motorcycles are dangerous. You shouldn’t…”
She laid a finger over his lips. “When we were back in high school, I stayed on that bull for eight seconds and climbed to the top of the water tower. You didn’t fuss at me about those things, but wait—you were right there too. Well, darlin’, buy a Harley and we’ll terrorize Happy together.”
Brody stepped closer, penning her against the truck door. She put both hands on his chest with intentions of pushing him away, but she made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. Lashes slowly closed to rest on his cheek bones and she barely had time to moisten her lips before she was swept away by a scorching hot kiss.
She knew she should push him back, but instead her arms went around his neck and she touched his bottom lip with her tongue. He groaned and opened his mouth, deepening the kiss into fiery hot passion. She would have been there until daylight, but he finally stepped back, picked up her hand and kissed her palm twice.
“One kiss for the Lila I remember, and the other for the woman that she’s become. Both are very special.”  Then Brody turned and disappeared into the darkness.





Carolyn Brown is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author and RITA® Finalist who has sold more than 2.75 million books. She presently writes both women's fiction and cowboy romance. She has also written historical single title, historical series, contemporary single title, and contemporary series. She lives in southern Oklahoma with her husband, a former English teacher, who is not allowed to read her books until they are published. They have three children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.


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