Friday, January 19, 2018

Forever My Girl Now a Motion Picture #Romance #ContemporaryRomance #BooktoFilm

Like romantic movies?

Give Forever My Girl a try.

Read on for details...

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Title: Forever My Girl 
Author: Heidi McLaughlin Production Company: Roadside Flix In theaters on January 19, 2018

For Ticket Purchase Information click <<HERE>>

Official Movie Trailer


FOREVER MY GIRL will release in theaters on January 19, 2018

I was never supposed to be a rock star. I had my life all planned out for me. Play football in college. Go to the NFL. Marry my high school sweetheart and live happily ever after. 



I broke both our hearts that day when I told her I was leaving. I was young. I made the right decision for me, but the wrong decision for us. I’ve poured my soul into my music, but I’ve never forgotten her. Her smell, her smile. 




And now I’m going back. After ten years. I hope I can explain that after all this time. I still want her to be my forever girl.

Official Teaser

 



Heidi McLaughlin is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of The Beaumont Series, The Boys of Summer, and The Archers. 



Originally, from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot. 




When she's isn't writing one of the many stories planned for release, you'll find her sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games. 




Heidi's first novel, Forever My Girl, has been adapted into a motion picture with LD Entertainment and Roadside Attractions, starring Alex Roe and Jessica Roth, in theaters January 19, 2018. 




To stay connected with Heidi visit www.facebook.com/authorheidimclaughlin  or heidimclaughlin.com


Movie Facebook Page | Movie Website

Finally Home Video

GRAB A COPY OF THE BOOK THAT INSPIRED THE MOVIE

Pick up your copy <<HERE>>
 


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Thursday, January 18, 2018

Breaking Down My Walls - Contemporary Romance and a Contest #Giveaway #Contest #Romance #ContemporaryRomance

Like contemporary romances?

Check out Breaking Down My Walls. The author is hosting a great contest.

Read on for details...

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Contemporary Romance
Date Published: November 30, 2017

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After the torment of her childhood, Taya believes in love for everyone … except herself. Some things can’t be untaught.

Beautiful and tough, yet the most private woman anyone has ever met, Taya knows everyone has a past, yet she doesn’t share hers. Her past must remain behind her for her sanity and so the only man she has ever loved will move on with someone who hasn’t been destroyed by those who were supposed to protect her.

Then a threat has her past storming back in and taking over.

After looking into the big, baby blue eyes of the deranged little orphan who was dragged, kicking and screaming, into his home, Levi is determined to be the boy who will teach Taya that not every offered hand will betray her.

Playful and gorgeous, Levi’s first passion is the girl who consumes his heart. His second is serving his country, following in his father’s footsteps. When Levi is deployed overseas, he encourages Taya to spread her wings and pursue her dreams, hoping she will come back to her roots and the man who is waiting for her.

Levi is mistaken.

Taya can’t change who she is and has built a life for herself far away from the only man she will ever love.

Can Levi convince Taya their relationship is worth the fight? Can he force her to overcome her fears and let him in completely? Can Levi prove his love is the freedom she has been searching for?

Levi allowed Taya to control their relationship in the past, but now things have changed. He is taking control back, with or without her consent.


About the Author

Anne Marie Citro grew born and raised in the greater Toronto area of Ontario, Canada. She grew up in a large, loving family. Anne Marie is married to a very patient man. He is the love of her life. They have four very cool sons, and the girls they brought into their family that have become daughters of her heart. She has been blessed enough to finally have a beautiful granddaughter after four sons. She has her own personal gaggle of girlfriends, who enrich her life on a daily basis and make her laugh. Caesar Friday is her favourite day of the week. Caesars with the girls and date night with her hubby. She works with special-needs teenagers, that have taught her how to appreciate life and see it through gentler eyes. Anne Marie was encouraged by her husband to follow her lifelong dream to write. She loves the characters that take over imagination and haunts her dreams. She loves the arts and she has tried her hand at painting, wood sculpting, chainsaw carving, wood burning, metal and wire sculptures. Yes, her husband is a very patient man! Anne Marie is an avid reader and enjoys about three books per week. But nothing makes her happier then riding on the back of her husband's Harley and throwing her arms out and feeling the wind race by. Anne Marie and her husband take a few weeks every year to travel to spectacular destination around the world. Anne Marie is excited and can't wait to see what the next chapter holds for her life.



Contact Links




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Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Night Shift - Night Shade 2 - Serial Killer - Erotic Romance - Erotic Suspense - and a Contest #EroticRomanceSuspense #Contest

Time to get good and scared, while also enjoying a rousing romance.

Check out Night Shift.

The author is also hosting a great contest.


___________



Title: Night Shift (Night Shade 2) 
Author: Carey Decevito 
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance/ Romantic Suspense 
Release Date: January 9, 2018 
Cover Designer: Clarise Tan of CT Cover Creations 



A serial killer…
A past that haunts no matter how much the distance…
Which one will strike first?


Eighteen deaths over eight years has left Shane Peters itching to find his mark. The death that started it all ensured his obsession with the murderer who had turned his life into a living hell, leaving him to raise a newborn daughter on his own.

Starting over wasn’t the easiest thing, but Emberlyn Roth had managed by shear grit and the skin of her teeth. It’s too bad one can’t outrun their past.

A protector of the wronged, Shane is torn between his duty as a detective for the Jacksonville PD and a quest to find himself some peace. Red tape binds his capabilities and moonlighting as an investigator for Nightshade Securities has him feeling stretched thin. Late nights on the streets and his sense of duty keeps him from being the father he wants to be. Throw onto his already rickety house of cards, an attraction to the mysterious Emberlyn, the lead he’s got on the murderer he’s been hunting for nearly a decade, and threats his woman is receiving by an unsavory character from her past, and he’s seriously tempted to take Dalton Kipper’s offer to join his team in a permanent basis.

Rules have a place, but when you’re faced with losing the one that means most to you, lines can become blurred. With the fate of his family’s future hanging in the balance, he’s ready to risk it all.




Emberlyn

The man’s gaze was intense. “Is everything all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked him.
“You seemed a little tweaked this morning. I saw you on your front step.”
He made to approach me, which caused me to back up, right into the side of his desk, knocking a slew of papers and the file they’d been tucked into on the floor.
“Shit!”
Hurrying to my knees, I started rallying everything up in a pile when I felt Shane kneeling next to me.
“Let me. You shouldn’t–”
I took a closer look at the shots of random pieces and froze, studying them.
“What? What is it?” he asked. “Do those look familiar?”
“They just remind me of something I once wanted to try and never have,” I told him. “A photographic mosaic.”
His body went rigid. “A what?”
“A photographic mosaic…or photomosaic,” I explained. “It’s when you take different images of the same size and compile them together to make a larger picture. Kind of like a puzzle, because each image has to be in the right color scheme to make the larger image true.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” he asked.
“Well, no,” I said, then inquired further. “How many pieces do you have?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d have to pull my files for the last eight years to know for sure. Do you know how to do these photo…”
“Mosaics?” I supplied. He nodded. “I’ve been wanting to try. Most people do these on computers these days, but I’ve seen them done by hand in a few galleries I’ve visited since I moved here.” I studied the photos closer, then moved to inspect the next one in the pile in my hands, and gasped, dropping everything I held onto the floor.
“Emberlyn,” I heard Shane say, but I was too busy processing the shock of what I saw. “Ember,” he tried again.
“Shane! Ember! Dessert’s ready!” Nora called out, but I couldn’t respond, closing my eyes to try and imagine something beautiful to replace the horror I’d just seen.
“Give us a minute, Mom. We’ll be right in.” I felt his hand grab my chin, gently tilting my head until we were face-to-face. “Look at me, Emberlyn. Look at me right now!”
That worked.
My eyes snapped open, and I realized I wasn’t breathing; the dark spots slowly clouding my peripheral vision.
“Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe with me.” Shane put a hand of mine on his chest, covering it with one of his as his other remained at my chin.
“T-that’s the woman…” I swallowed the bile in my throat. “She was found dead in…Oh God!”
“Don’t talk. Just breathe, baby.”
Something in me snapped, and my body jerked, filling with cold dread and even chillier memories. “Don’t call me that!”
Shane’s grip on me retracted as if I’d touched him with a cattle prod. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t call me that,” I repeated at a whisper. “It’s what he used to call me.”
“Who?”
That’s when I realized I’d said too much.
Jumping to my feet, I backed toward the front of the house, stuttering, “I-I have to go.”
“Wait!”
I shook my head, swallowing what I knew would be my dinner coming up to greet me again. I didn’t want to be here when it did. “I’m sorry. Tell your mom and Rosie thank you.”
Turning, I rushed out of the Peters’ residence as if my hair was on fire, barely making it to my front bushes before my stomach revolted, turning the wonderful dinner that Shane had put together into plant fertilizer.
What I didn’t expect were the steel bands that would come to wrap around me while I sobbed.

Shane
“Is everything okay?” Mom had run into the den as soon as the front door slammed shut. “What happened, where’s Ember?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got to go after her.” I couldn’t explain because I didn’t really know the whole of it myself. “Can you look after Rosie? And don’t let her come in here. I’ll clean this up when I get back.”
She nodded, a distraught expression entering her gaze as she peered at the mess around me. “Okay, baby,” she choked.
I winced. “Mom–”
“Go,” she said. “You need to go. I’ll go check on Rosie.”
Nodding, I hurried out the front door, catching sight of Emberlyn hunched over one of her bushes, her back and shoulders heaving violently.
Fuck!
I didn’t hesitate. Rushing to her, I wrapped my arms around her middle and held on to the sobbing woman, who in turn began to scream like a banshee.
“Let me go! Help! Someone–”
My hand snapped up to cover her mouth, and I bent my head to the bucking woman’s ear. “Shh,” I whispered as she continued to fight me. I got a kick in the shin, causing me to groan. “It’s Shane, Ember. It’s me. I’m here.”
Her body went slack, but shock set in almost immediately and she began shaking like a leaf, her sobs resuming.
“Let’s get you inside, sweetheart.”
She didn’t argue. In fact, she didn’t say anything or physically acknowledge me.
Bending down to pick up the tiny purse she’d dropped to the ground, along with her keys, I made to pick her up in my arms.
“I-I can walk,” she said, teeth chattering.
“Okay,” I said softly. “How ‘bout you hold onto me and we’ll take it slow. I’m not liking your color right now.”

I didn’t realize how extreme her fear was until I’d closed the door behind us, and attempted to usher the woman toward where I knew the living room would be, but she shrieked a, “Lock the door!”
After that task was done, we made our way to the couch.
Emberlyn quickly backed into the armrest, curling her knees up to her chin. I grabbed the throw off the back of the sectional and draped it over her.
“Let’s get you a glass of water,” I told her, heading toward the kitchen.
In case you were wondering, this wasn’t my first time inside this house. I’d been here plenty while growing up, but it sure had changed. Emberlyn had put her mark on her grandmother’s old place, and it was a warm and pleasant one with a more modern flare to it. I approved.
Glass in hand, I set to run the water until it was nice and cold, filling it from the tap.
When the floor creaked beneath my feet, Emberlyn jumped, panic in her eyes until they settled on me. She melted into the cushions almost immediately with palpable relief.
She didn’t waste time, grabbing the glass from my hands, chugging its contents immediately. I took the glass from her and settled it atop the one coaster I saw on the coffee table before crouching down in front of her.
“Better?” I asked. She nodded. “Want to talk about it?” She shook her head, no. “Do you want me to leave?” Another shake. This had me standing to sit next to her, but not too close, since I didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she clearly was.
That plan was squashed as soon as my ass met the cushion and she launched herself at me.
“Whoa! Calm down, sweetheart. You’re okay,” I whispered my reassurance into the side of her face, one arm wrapped around her back, her legs over my lap, and the other sifting into her hair. I couldn’t help myself. I pulled the pin that held her hair together, chucking the thing onto the coffee table, and resumed stroking her.
For a long moment, we sat together, neither of us saying a word, when so much remained to be said. Then she opened up.
“He used to call me baby,” she told me what I already knew. “My husband…that’s what he’d call me, when he tried to gain my forgiveness after he’d beat me.” My blood began to simmer. “Trevor and I had a very volatile relationship. I would do everything he asked of me, and he’d never be happy. I learned to be subservient to him early on. Mouthing off only got me punished. So I did what I had to until I could get out. I just didn’t do it fast enough.”
“Sweetheart, I know,” I said against her hair.
“You know?” she whispered, she pulled back so she could look at me, then realization must have hit her. “You’re a cop, of course you’d know.”
“Detective.” I smirked.
Her brown scrunched up. “Huh?”
“I’m a detective. I wouldn’t know about your case, but since my girls have been spending time with you…I just hope you’re not mad that I looked into you.”
“No.” She forced a smile, but it was nice seeing something other than tears in her stormy gray eyes, despite my apprehensiveness to her reaction that I might have overstepped my bounds with her past. “You have a daughter…a family to protect. I’d have done the same thing.” Settling in against my front again, her hand came up to lay on my chest. “Thank you, Shane.”
Swallowing the large lump in my throat, I rasped, “You’re welcome.”
Then silence enveloped us once more—not awkward—comfortable.

Something stirred me awake, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was until I saw a blanket being draped over me.
“I’m awake,” I husked.
“I’m sorry. We fell asleep, and–”
Grabbing her wrist to stay her movements, I did an ab curl to sit up. Emberlyn’s free hand sifted into my hair. She was standing between my legs, looking down as she massaged my scalp. Fuck, it felt good. I closed my eyes to enjoy the intimacy of the moment. So much so that I gripped her hips.
“I should go,” I whispered, my eyes opening to meet hers.
“Yeah.”
“It’s late.”
“Uh-huh.” Her head bobbed up and down with her words.
This made me smirk, and confess. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Rosie’ll need her father tomorrow morning,” she rationalized.
“Fact, but it still doesn’t make me want to go.”
Her smile showed her pleasure at my words. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“Pinky swear. Go home, Shane. Your family needs you.”
That had me smirking. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” I pushed her back, so I could get up, I curled my hands around the sides of her face, bending it forward so I could touch my lips to her forehead. “Walk me out?” When my feet hit her front step, I gave her one last assessing gaze.
“I’ll be fine.” She giggled nervously. “Thanks again.”

I smiled, then bent to kiss her cheek. “You’re welcome again,” I whispered, then left, but not before I heard the clicks of her front door locking.



Born and raised in small town Northern Ontario, Canada, Carey Decevito has always had a penchant for reading and writing.

More than a decade later, with weeks of sleepless nights, where exhaustion settled into her everyday existence, she finally gave in and put pen to paper (more like fingers to keyboard!) She submitted to the dreams that plagued her. And the rest, as they say, is history!

A member of the RWA, Carey enjoys spending time with family and friends, the outdoors, travelling, and playing tourist in Canada's National Capital region. When life gets crazy, this contemporary erotic romance author seeks respite through her writing and reading. If all else fails, she knows there’s never a dull moment with her two daughters, her goofy husband, and cat who she swears is out to get her.

She is the author of both The Broken Men Chronicles and Nightshade series.











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Tuesday, January 16, 2018

The Ripper - Mystery and Detective Police Procedural #Mystery #Detective #PoliceProcedural

This looks like an interesting book.

If you love mysteries and police procedurals you'll want to give it a try.

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FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Police Procedural
Published Date: November 19th 2017

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One hundred twenty-five years to the day after Jack the Ripper committed his first gruesome murder, a young woman is killed in a picturesque Spanish town. As if the eerie timing isn’t enough to unnerve Commissioner Carrillo, the murderer has mimicked the Ripper’s grisly method almost exactly.

Soon more women are murdered and their bodies horrifically mutilated. Tips and accusations fly wildly, sending the commissioner and his fellow officers chasing after suspects who might be innocent. Adding to the confusion, the killer is creating his own trail, carving mysterious signs on the bodies of his victims and texting the commissioner puzzling messages.

When the murderer reveals who his fifth victim will be, Commissioner Carrillo’s blood runs cold—he now has a personal stake in solving the atrocious mystery. Who is this villainous fiend posing as Jack the Ripper? Can he be caught before he commits his final murder?





About the Author


Carmelo Anaya has published ten novels, including three previous books starring Commissioner Carrillo: The Yellow Earth, The Guardian of My Brother, and Baria City Blues. He lives in Almeria, Spain, where he works as a lawyer and a criminalist.







Contact Links

Book Trailer    


Purchase Links

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Monday, January 15, 2018

A Most Unusual Christmas Gift - Ordinary People Extraordinary Lives #War #NonFiction

This post first appeared at my other site Sweet n Sexy Divas, written by resident Dude James Hatch.

Enjoyed it so much, I wanted to share.

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At my age, Christmas gifts are discouraged—unless it’s something to eat. I mean, really, I already have far too much stuff and one of my goals is to get rid of things rather than acquire more. My wife and I attend Christmas functions for the joy of being with friends and family and nothing more, except perhaps the food. So, this year I was especially surprised to receive a gift from my daughter that almost blew me away. The gift was something I would never have thought of myself, yet something I am moved to the core for having received. She gave me two bricks. Yes, two bricks; however, they are not normal bricks. These bricks are engraved with the names Otto Whittington, Japanese POW, Army—and Harold Whittington, U.S.S Mizar. The bricks will soon be installed in the Walk of Honor at the National Museum for the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, TX, the home of the Admiral Nimitz Museum.
 
The lives of Harold and Otto Whittington are the subjects of my latest book, Ordinary People; Extraordinary Lives. They are heroes of the Greatest Generation in every sense of the word, and my daughter was so moved by their story that she purchased the bricks as a memorial to their lives. Her gift left me in tears, as the book did her. I believe, in all my many years, no gift has touched my heart as much as this one.

Ordinary People; Extraordinary Lives chronicles the struggles of Harold Whittington and his brother, Otto, from birth through the Great Depression and on to WW II. Otto joined the Army and subsequently endured the surrender of Bataan and the Bataan Death March. During Otto’s 3.5 years as a Japanese POW, he was a slave conscript for building roads in the Philippines. Few POWs survived that duty. Later, after a harrowing trip from the Philippines to Japan on a “Death Ship,” Otto was a slave in the Japanese steel mills. Somehow Otto survived two near beheadings, beriberi, malnutrition, malaria, and torture—and twice the steel mills where he labored were targeted for nuclear destruction. Otto could hear the B-29 circling overhead; only the weather spared him. While Otto struggled through severe torture and sickness, Harold joined the Navy and searched for Otto throughout the Pacific theater whenever his supply ship put into port. After the second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, Otto escaped the POW camp and made his way to a small POW collection point outside Manila. His exit from Japan was also remarkable because the aircraft just ahead of his exploded about 100 feet off the end of the runway. Harold subsequently located his brother in Manila, although, after years of torture, Otto did not recognize him. Harold and Otto returned to the USA after the war. Otto became an attorney and Harold became a professor of sociology at Temple Junior College. The incredible lives of these men, fraught with daunting labor, terror, and pain, serves as a poignant example of why they and others like them, are called “The Greatest Generation.”

Below are reflections by Otto Whittington, an excerpt taken from the book:


_______________________
Late in the afternoon, my Hong Kong flight departed, climbing in a southwest direction. A few minutes into the flight I looked down and saw the large white cross standing like a sentinel over the largest military cemetery in the Pacific—Mount Samet where the bloodiest battles of Bataan were fought. Memories and emotions hit me like a sledgehammer. The small jungle covering the peninsula looked peaceful and insignificant in the late afternoon tropical sun, but I remembered a different Bataan—a Bataan where, nearly thirty-nine years ago, my friends, comrades-in-arms, and I started on one of the most brutal and cruel exoduses ever suffered by man. It was called the “Death March” because of the bodies left along the road. Men were shot, bayoneted, or beat to death—the Death March was my introduction to nearly four years of living HELL.

Emotions became more intense and my mind swirled with scenes thought long forgotten, now fresh and vivid. Blood smeared jungles filled the horizon and the sickening stench of death filled the air. Mallett and I were sent to contact the Philippine Army Division on our right. At an aid station behind where the front lines had been, we found wounded Filipino soldiers on litters with their throats cut—the whole division had pulled out. I returned to my regiment to hear the same report from the left flank. With another Philippine Division gone, only one skeleton regiment remained to fill the gap left by two divisions.

The 31st U.S. Infantry troops were ragged and sick with malaria, dysentery, and tropical infections. We had no medical supplies to treat our diseases. We were starved, low on ammunition, and our automatic weapons had burned out in previous battles. Still, the “Battling Bastards of Bataan” would try to hold back General Yamashita's fresh 100,000 troops, just brought in from Singapore.

We were told to keep the enemy engaged, to hold a ridge while other companies fell back. As the enemy advanced, we dropped back, trying to find a place where a small force could hold a line. My squad was blown off a ridge by heavy mortar fire. Falling back, Crowell’s foot was blown off, and he stumbled along on one leg and a bloody stump. He was crazy with shock and pain and fought anyone who tried to help him. Borden fell on his back screaming in pain and with legs kicking. I put my hand under him and felt his heart beating where his back was blown open. I dragged him down the slope as he screamed, begging to die. Time stood still until someone helped me carry him away. We passed bodies—shredded by mortars, artillery, and bombs—in grotesque positions of death. Our last line was on the beach across Cabcaben Airstrip from the ever advancing Japanese.
_____________________________
If you are interested in history, I encourage you to go to Amazon.com and key in James L. Hatch. Buy the book Ordinary People; Extraordinary Lives. It will leave you with a deep sense of thanksgiving for the lives we lead now.

Thank you for reading,

James L. Hatch









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