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Release Day Blitz & Giveaway: Behind His Lens by R.S. Grey

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Twenty-three year old model Charley Whitlock built a quiet life for herself after disaster struck four years ago. She hides beneath her beautiful mask, never revealing her true self to the world… until she comes face-to-face with her new photographer — sexy, possessive Jude Anderson. It’s clear from the first time she meets him that she’s playing by his rules. He says jump, she asks how high. He tells her to unzip her cream Dior gown; she knows she has to comply. But what if she wants him to take charge outside of the studio as well?

Jude Anderson has a strict “no model” dating policy. But everything about Charley sets his body on fire.

When a tropical photo shoot in Hawaii forces the stubborn pair into sexually charged situations, their chemistry can no longer be ignored. They’ll have to decide if they’re willing to break their rules and leave the past behind or if they’ll stay consumed by their demons forever.

Will Jude persuade Charley to give in to her deepest desires?

**Recommended for ages 17+ due to language and sexual situations.**

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I am a lover of books, chocolate, reality TV, metaphors and similes, black labs, and cold weather. Seriously, if I had it my way I would be curled up on the couch with all of those things… everyday.

I was born and raised in Texas where I spend my free time writing and reading. My favorite authors are Mindy Kaling & Jonathan Safran Foer. I’m a comedy geek and love all things “funny”. Women like Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Mindy Kaling are definitely the biggest inspirations for my writing, though I think my work tends to skew a bit smuttier than theirs.;)

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Blitz: Review & Giveaway- Sex Love Repeat by Alessandra Torre

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mandy

5 stars. Hands down. No question

There aren’t enough positive words in the English language to describe how much I loved this book! The synopsis had me intrigued, but the writing had me hooked from the first page. The storyline was original, the pacing was perfect.  The characters. Sigh. I loved them all and I tried to predict how it would all turn out without anyone getting hurt, but I never imagined what happens. It was perfect, in the end.

Alessandra Torre’s writing style in Sex Love Repeat is sensual, sexy, intriguing, and it kept me riveted from start to finish. I had equally strong feelings for both of Madison’s men and at first I was nervous to like “the other woman”, but she won me over with her wisdom and her love for both of Madison’s men.

I already read wicked fast, but this book had me wishing I could read even faster as I was so hooked and I desperately needed to find out how the story would end.  At 39%, I was right with “the other woman” in her thoughts of “What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?” This just spurred me onward. I NEEDED to understand and see how the chips would fall. And that is another beautiful thing about this book. No cliffhanger, no unanswered questions. Just a wonderfully written story in one volume.  But I will be seeking out more from Alessandra Torre. I was already a fan after reading The Girl in 6E and Blindfolded Innocence, but Sex Love Repeat has helped to push Alessandra Torre onto my must read list of authors.

Synopsisbutton

I love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I let them know. They don’t need to know a name; they don’t need to know anything, but that they are not alone in my heart.

They have accepted the situation. Stewart, because his life is too busy for the sort of obligations that are required in a relationship. Paul, because he loves me too much to tell me no. And because my sexual appetite is such that one man has trouble keeping up.

So we exist, two parallel relationships, each running their own course, with no need for intersection or conflict. It works for us, for them, and for me. I don’t expect it to be a long-term situation. I know there is an expiration date on the easy perfection of our lives.

I should have paid more attention, should have looked around and noticed the woman who watched it all. She sat in the background and waited, tried to figure me out. Saw my two relationships, the love between us, and the moment that it all fell apart.

She hates me.
I don’t even know she exists.
She loves them. I love them.
And they love me.

Everything else hangs in the balance.

excerpt

Rated X

I pull off of him, gasping for breath, his arms pulling me to my feet before I even speak, his arm pining me to his body as his other hand wraps around, slides underneath the edge of dress and squeezes my ass. Hard. So hard I gasp, his eyes tight on mine and he releases it, running his fingers down the crack of my ass and fingering the channel of my sex, covered in lace, his fingers running back and forth over the spot, a grin stretching across his face at the dampness there.

“Is that for me or him?”

I don’t answer, reaching between our bodies and fist his cock, wrapping my hands tightly around the stiff meat, every vein in the organ outlined in the rigidity of his arousal.

“Answer me Madd. Answer me while I fuck you right here. While I make you scream so loud that people walking by will hear.”

“Make me,” I whisper, a challenge in the tones.

His hand tightens around my waist at the words, his eyes holding mine with a fierce look as he listens to my words.

“Make me scream your name while he conducts his business. Make me your slut, right here and now and send me back to him with your cum dripping out of me.”

He groans, pushing me back against the wall, spreading my legs with his knees. He reached down with both hands, gripping my panties and pulling, ripping the sheer fabric with one strong jerk. Then his body is back against me, his chest hard to mine, his bare cock rough and bobbing at my entrance, pushing for and then finding the wetness of my sex and pushing inside. “Jesus Christ Madd,” he groans, shoving upward, his hard thighs pinning me to the wall, his hands yanking at my straps, pulling my cashmere cardigan off my shoulders and jerking the top of my dress down. He thrusts again, his thighs relaxing and then flexing, every fuck bouncing me back against the wall, his hands clasping my breasts, squeezing them into his palms.

“Make me scream,” I grit out, my eyes on his. They are tortured blue, cloudy with arousal, latent with need. “You know that he fucked me? Before we came here. I straddled his cock and rode him. His hands rough on my skin, his cock taking my body. He was inside me Paul, right where you are now.” He roars, his voice raw and primal, pushing me against the wall, losing control as he slams against me, faster and faster, until my body becomes a shaking sea of desire, my core rattled, breath gasping, his thrusts urgent and dominant, his breath ragged, his hands finding my face and bringing my mouth to his.

“You are mine,” he guts out, pumping into me, the length and level of his arousal brutal. “Mine,” he swears, as he releases my mouth and turns me around, pushing me forward as he yanks my legs back, one hand hard on my back, the other gripping my ass. He doesn’t slow the movement, giving me full, hard thrusts, my breasts bouncing from the top of my dress, the mirror above the sink giving me a full view of my slutdom.

Paul, in worn jeans, a white tee-shirt, light hair mussed, mouth open, intensity over his face. His reflection pulls at my hair, tilting my head back, and I find his eyes on mine in the mirror.

“You like what you see?” His words are terse, thick. He is conflicted, but – from the level of his erection – fully aroused at the same time, his speed increasing, his breath loud in the small space. “You like being fucked while he’s in the next room?”

I don’t answer, my climax too close, every muscle in my body tightening in anticipation of the act, my cunt throbbing and contracting around him, his eyes closing briefly at the sensation.

“God, Madd. You are so fucking good…” He pulls out abruptly, leaving me gasping, my chest aching as I turn to him, feeling his hands before I fully move; they shove me back, wrapping around my waist and lifting me, setting me on the low counter of the sink and pulling me to the edge. He jacks himself, looking at my pussy, at the swollen pink lips of sex, then glances up to meet my eyes. He steps forward, pressing himself at my base, pushing my chin up when he sees me glance down. “Look at me. Look at me and tell me what he did to you. Tell me what he did and make me come all fucking up inside of you.”

StalktheAuthorbutton

894733_436226206461583_1138738603_oAlessandra Torre is a author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks.

Alessandra lives on the beach in Florida and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.

Learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com.

Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
Email: alessandratorre4@gmail.com

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Up for grabs-five signed copies of Sex Love Repeat and five $25 Amazon gift cards
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Book Blitz: Sex Love Repeat by Alessandra Torre

Sex Love Repeat - Alessandra Torre - COVER

 

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Synopsisbutton

I love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I let them know. They don’t need to know a name; they don’t need to know anything, but that they are not alone in my heart.

They have accepted the situation. Stewart, because his life is too busy for the sort of obligations that are required in a relationship. Paul, because he loves me too much to tell me no. And because my sexual appetite is such that one man has trouble keeping up.

So we exist, two parallel relationships, each running their own course, with no need for intersection or conflict. It works for us, for them, and for me. I don’t expect it to be a long-term situation. I know there is an expiration date on the easy perfection of our lives.

I should have paid more attention, should have looked around and noticed the woman who watched it all. She sat in the background and waited, tried to figure me out. Saw my two relationships, the love between us, and the moment that it all fell apart.

She hates me.

I don’t even know she exists.

She loves them. I love them.

And they love me.

Everything else hangs in the balance.

excerpt

My men are so different, yet similar in so many ways.

Their eyes, a similar tint of blue, yet Paul’s smiles at me with carefree abandonment and Stewart’s pierces my heart with its dark intensity.

Their bodies. Paul’s naturally muscular, his arms developed from hours of surfboard paddling, his abs ripped from balancing on a board, his thighs and calves strong from jumping, balancing, and kicking through currents. Stewart’s body, attacked like everything else in his life, with fierce devotion, aggression worked out with miles on a treadmill, weight-lifting, sit-ups, pull-ups, and calisthenics.

Their love. Paul loves me with unconditional warmth, his affection public and obvious, his arms pulling me into his warmth, his mouth littering my body with frequent kisses. Stewart loves me with a tiger’s intensity, his need taking my breath away, his confidence in our relationship strong enough to not be bothered by the presence of another man. He stares into my soul as if he owns it, and shows his love with money, sex, and rare moments of time.

Tonight is one of those rare moments. I have his attention, his cell phone is away, and he is staring at me as if I contain everything needed to make his world whole. I step forward, towards his seated form, the dress hugging my form to perfection. He sits up in the chair, spreading his knees and patting his thigh, indicating where he wants me. I sit sideways on his thigh, my eyes held by his, his hand stealing up and running lightly along my bare back. “You are breathtaking.” His voice gruff, he leans forward and places a light kiss on my neck. “And you smell incredible.”

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.” And he does. In a suit that no doubt costs more than my dress, he looks every bit the successful executive that he is. Short, orderly hair. Clean-shaved chin. Those intense eyes staring out of a strong face. “Is the car here?”

“It’s downstairs. But it can wait.” He runs a hand up my knee, sliding the material of the cocktail dress up.

I wait, my breath becoming shallow, my concentration focused on the path of his fingers, as they travel higher, taking their time, the tickle of rough skin against soft flesh. He leans over, brushing a quick kiss over my lips and then moves lower, soft kisses making the path down the line of my jaw, whisper soft against my neck, and deepening in touch when they reach my collarbone. His hand caresses my thigh, the brush of his thumb moving higher up my thigh until it is just breaths from my sex. I groan, sliding my hips forward, but his hand stops me, gripping my thigh and holding me still. “Not yet. Let me enjoy you for a moment.”

There is the sound of approaching footsteps, and I open my eyes to see a suited man, our driver, round the corner and stop short when we come into view. His eyes drop respectfully and he speaks softly. “Mr. Brand, I’ll be downstairs with the car when you are ready.”

Stewart mutters something unintelligible, the man taking the cue and leaving, the firm pull of the door behind him leaving us alone. Stewart’s hands push apart my legs, moving the fabric of my dress aside and leaving me bare and open to his eyes. He looks down, examining the exposed skin, his mouth curving into a smile. “No panties?” His eyes flick up to mine.

“They’re in my purse. I figured they would be useless until we got to the event.”

“That,” he says softly, his fingers teasing the edge of my lips, circling the edge of my sex in slow, tantalizing brushes, each touch closer but not yet there, “is why I love you. You know me so well.”

His eyes stare at me, dark pools of lust and want. While Paul and I talk, incessantly, often, about anything and everything, important or not, Stewart and I fuck our way through this relationship, our time often too short for anything more than physical contact. Sex is how we connect, share our feelings, emotions, and love. I stare back into his eyes, my eyelids closing slightly when he slides one confident finger over the knot of my clit, that finger effortlessly sliding down and into me, the small invasion a tease of perfection. “Look at me,” he breathes. “I want to see your eyes.”

I reopen my eyes, my mouth parting as he cups my sex, slipping a second finger in with the first, both of them working together, stimulating me in their movement, his thumb staying firm on my clit, soft pressure that moves slightly with each stroke of his fingers. He watches my eyes, sees the moment that the fire of my need hits them, sees the crescendo and burn of my arousal, adjusting the pace and pressure of his fingers in accordance with my want. I feel the curl of pleasure, growing in my belly, our eyes caught in a web of want, pulled to each other, my eyes barely noticing the sexy pull of his mouth into a smile as my breathing increases and I thrust into his hand. His other hand steals around my waist, sliding up my chest and pulling on the fabric there, tugging my neckline down till a breast is exposed, his hand gripping and tugging on it just hard enough to make me gasp.

StalktheAuthorbutton

Alessandra Torre is a author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks.

Alessandra lives on the beach in Florida and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.

Learn more about Alessandra on her website at http://www.alessandratorre.com.

Email her at alessandratorre4@gmail.com
 * Like her on facebook
 * Follow her on twitter
 * Fan her at www.goodreads.com/AlessandraTorre
 * Follow her on pinterest

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Blitz: Quintessentially Q by Pepper Winters

Tears of Tess remains Mandy’s FAVORITE Book of 2013! Read her thoughts. This sequel is highly anticipated and is at the top of our TBRs. Sigh. Q Mercer. What a man. What a monster.

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“All my life, I battled with the knowledge I was twisted… fucked up to want something so deliciously dark—wrong on so many levels. But then slave fifty-eight entered my world. Hissing, fighting, with a core of iron, she showed me an existence where two wrongs make a right.”

Tess is Q’s completely. Q is Tess’s irrevocably. But now, they must learn the boundaries of their unconventional relationship, while Tess seeks vengeance on the men who sold her. Q made a blood-oath to deliver their corpses at Tess’s feet, and that’s just what he’ll do.

He may be a monster, but he’s Tess’s monster..

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This was honestly supposed to be a blitz only post, but Pepper sent us the ARC in exchange for a raw review and I just couldn’t wait to share my thoughts with all of you.

6 stars or whatever the highest ranking would be

Tears of Tess was my self-proclaimed Top Read of 2013. Now it is undeniably Quintessentially Q, but since you have to read Tears of Tess first to fully understand it; all I can tell you is that you MUST read these books! Pepper Winters is an amazing writer. That sounds so lame compared to the reality and depth of Pepper’s talents as a writer and storyteller. Her writing is intoxicating and the depth of emotions that her words bring out in me is unreal. Very rarely does a book move me to tears or evoke strong emotions in me. (I am entirely too mean.) But Pepper’s words are still ringing in my head long after finishing. I basically highlighted the entire book.  How she even came up with a story so full of pain, torture, dark, light, love, hate and made it heartbreakingly beautiful, I will never know.  Perhaps she isn’t of this earth? A gift from above? Whatever she is, I thank my lucky stars that she has deemed us, mere readers, with Tess and Q’s story.

This was supposed to be a review of Quintessentially Q and not the Mandy loves Pepper show, but I can’t give you a review of QQ without spoiling the beauty of how it all unfolds.  I knew this book would be good after the greatness of Tears of Tess, but I did wonder what could possibly fill another book? I knew Q would seek to fulfill his promise to Tess and I knew that Pepper would provide us with more fodder for our private fantasies with her seductive words and erotic love scenes. Q Mercer is a man worthy of a million private fantasies. Monster and all included.

What I didn’t expect was for Pepper to take things as dark as she did. And then she did take us there and I wondered how Tess and Q would ever find their equilibrium again or would they have to reinvent their own happiness without each other, or or or? My mind raced and I tried to read faster and faster without blinking (Which I don’t advise BTW.) and OH Q. Be still my cold ass heart. OH TESS. I admire your strength and your fight. OH PEPPER. I want to punch you and then kiss it better and then buy you a drink. Damn woman. You can write.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Writer, reader, sometimes wife.

An avid devourer of sexy romance and angsty New Adult.

Nothing beats lolling in a bubble bath with her array of book boyfriends.

Her two titles: Tears of Tess and Broken Chance are coming soon.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

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Blitz: Skipping Stones by JB McGee

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Blurb:
 
They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Not everyone will grieve in this order, nor will everyone go through every stage. It’s during the stage of denial when Alex Hart meets Andrew Foster. He takes her one-step closer to acceptance: the stage when new, meaningful relationships are formed. The stage when the realization occurs that this is now the new state of normal.

Just when Alex thinks she is on her way to healing, she enters the bargaining phase. That’s the phase where you wonder what you could have done differently. You wonder “what if?” Specifically, what if the ones you loved hadn’t left you?

Leaving…this is what makes heading off to war so difficult and frightening for Alex. She knows all too well what it’s like to be the one on the losing end of life, which is why she’s made it her personal mission in life to save as many lives as possible. The extreme high she gets from treating trauma victims turns into Alex’s own form of therapy, or so she thinks.

When faced with her world being turned upside down, Alex may just find that her true therapy is in the one who has always saved her.
 
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A Note from J.B. McGee 
Bio:
 

J.B. McGee was born and raised in Aiken, South Carolina. After graduating from South Aiken High School, she toured Europe as a member of the 1999 International Bands of America Tour, playing the clarinet. While attending Converse College, an all-girls school in Spartanburg, South Carolina, she visited Charleston often. It quickly became one of her favorite vacation spots. She met her husband, Chad, during Christmas break her freshman year, and they married in 2001 and she moved back to her home town. 

In 2005, the couple welcomed their first son, Noah. J.B. finished her Bachelor of Arts degree in Early Childhood Education at the University of South Carolina-Aiken in 2006. During her time studying children’s literature, a professor had encouraged her to become a writer.

In 2007, she welcomed their second child, Jonah, and she became a stay at home mom/entrepreneur. In 2009, the found out their two children and J.B. have Mitochondrial Disease. In 2011, a diagnosis also was given to Chad. Please take a moment and learn more about Mitochondrial Disease. Awareness is key to this disease that has no cure or treatments.

J.B. McGee and her family now reside in Buford, Georgia, to be closer to their children’s medical team. After a passion for reading had been re-ignited, J.B. decided to finally give writing a shot. Broken (This Series), is her first book and first series. 
 
J.B. is represented by Stacey Donaghy with Donaghy Literary Group.
 
 
 

 

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