#BookBlast Way to Go by @MandyColtonFic

Mandy Colton is from Louisville, KY, and lives a very quiet life with her husband and teenage son. She’s a fan of romance, fun adventure stories, and some occasional sci-fi or paranormal thrown in. Veronica Lane and the idea for her adventures came from her own experiences and career working in the travel industry.

She claims that working in the travel business could be horribly stressful but was equally laugh-out-loud funny at times. She enjoyed many priceless and comical experiences with groups, friends, and peers. Even her clients shared humorous adventures of their own. Her opinion is that there just are no better stories than those that involve true life.

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Blurb:

Veronica Lane works in the travel industry in her dream job when she experiences a hellish travel day ending in the loss of her job and stranded far from home. To make the situation even worse, she drowns her sorrows in the hotel bar, and wakes the next morning to a big surprise.

Gathering up the remains of her dignity along with her travel bags, she returns to her hometown in Peachtree City, Georgia. A community similar to a progressive Mayberry, except with golf cart paths and carts. A lot of them. Her family is kooky. The parents are sexually free and liberal, her brother is a golf cart cop with more good looks and brawn than brains. Her grandparents, one from each side, live in the same retirement community and maintain a constant battle while entertaining the other senior citizens. The Grandmother on her dad's side is stuck in the 1960’s, and the Grandfather on her mother's side served in WWII and thinks that the Japanese are still trying to kill him.

She calls inquiring about a job in the newspaper, a group escort for a small tour company in Atlanta. She is hired immediately and leaves the next day with her first group to Jamaica. First, she meets a handsome pilot with the charter airline they use, and then there is one unusual group participant that doesn’t seem to belong. He leaves the group for periods of time and when things happen, he uses MacGyver like skills to get them out of the situations. She is aggravated and knows something is fishy and the bad thing is, the man is very charismatic and she’s not just a little attracted to him.

Upon their return, she finds out that the man is friends with her rather unconventional boss and after a second unusual group excursion to Puerto Rico; she knows for sure that the little tour company in Atlanta is not really what it seems on the outside. When the truth is revealed, she finds herself unintentionally dropped into a new career that she can't exactly add to her resume.

Veronica finds herself in uncomfortable and hilarious situations, surrounded by crazy tour participants, family, friends, neighbors, and pets. After a long dry spell, she finds that there is suddenly an overabundance of romance, drama, and intrigue in her life. Her life is now a sometimes very bumpy, yet exciting ride.

Excerpt:

“Hey, guys. What’s up? Is the bar not open?”

The two elderly ladies in the group walked up next to me. The one named Zelda said, “Well, ain’t that a peculiar-lookin’ bathin’ suit on that man. Looks almost nude.”

Then the man turned around, and I gasped.

Zelda’s travel companion, Ruby, craned her neck, blinked a couple of times, and said, “Zelda, is that what I think it is?”

“Yup, I’m bettin’ my tummy tuck it is. From here, it don’t hardly look like one. Wouldn’t think he’d want the whole world to know God gave him a dinky one like that.”

O-mi-god! He wasn’t the only one like…that at the beach bar. And they were mostly middle-aged or older. Oh, my poor eyes.

When I was finally able to speak, I squeaked out, “Excuse me, folks. I have to go check something out. Be right back.”

I heard a snigger behind me, and I didn’t have to guess who it came from. I ran past Chuckles to the front desk and asked for the manager again. I had a little trouble getting my breath and was beginning to hyperventilate, so I reached down, grabbed my knees, and stuck my head between my legs. At least blue would be a new color for my face today. Shit!

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#BookBlast Perfect Fit by @LyndaMSimmons

Lynda Simmons is a writer by day, college instructor by night and a late sleeper on weekends. She grew up in Toronto reading Greek mythology, bringing home stray cats and making up stories about bodies in the basement. From an early age, her family knew she would either end up as a writer or the old lady with a hundred cats. As luck would have it, she married a man with allergies so writing it was.

With two daughters to raise, Lynda and her husband moved into a lovely two storey mortgage in Burlington, a small city on the water just outside Toronto. While the girls are grown and gone, Lynda and her husband are still there. And yes, there is a cat – a beautiful, if spoiled, Birman.

When she’s not writing or teaching, Lynda gives serious thought to using the treadmill in her basement. Fortunately, she’s found that if she waits long enough, something urgent will pop up and save her - like a phone call or an e-mail or a whistling kettle. Or even that cat just looking for a little more attention!

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Blurb:

Fast-paced, funny and incurably romantic

Rachel Banks has never believed in magic or moonlight, but if she’d thought that putting a piece of wedding cake under her pillow would conjure up a nightmare in the form of blue-eyed charmer Mark Robison, she’d have stuffed that cake into her mouth instead! Mark is only in Madeira Beach for some much needed R&R and his new neighbour is not the kind of woman made for vacation memories. But there’s something about the incurable romantic that just keeps drawing him back.

Jennifer Crusie. Susan Elizabeth Phillips. Lynda Simmons? Oh, yeah!

Buy Link: Amazon

Excerpt:

Amanda snapped on her gear and opened the front door. “That was chance. But this.” She picked up a couple of bags. “This is fate.”

Rachel stopped in the doorway. “Do you really believe that? Do you think it’s possible for two people to be des¬tined for each other? Like soul mates.” She shook her head. “Forget it. Let’s go.”

Amanda blocked the way. “Who did you meet?”

“No one, and I’m late.”

Amanda planted her skates sideways. “You cannot do this. Not after I told you about the real estate broker.”

Rachel looked through the fringe of Amanda’s bangs into her frank green eyes and wondered if she should take a chance. “Let me ask you this. Have you ever heard of dreaming on a piece of wedding cake?”

“Sure, it’s an old custom. Like walking to church because it’s lucky and passing on a green wedding gown because it’s not. But most people serve the cake for dessert these days.”

Rachel tried a smile. “Not all.”

“Someone gave you cake to dream on?” Rachel nodded and it was Amanda’s turn to laugh. “Don’t tell me you did it.”

When Rachel didn’t answer, Amanda’s mouth dropped open and her voice rose. “You did, didn’t you?” She put the bags down. “Okay, I need details. Did you have a dream?”

It was on the tip of Rachel’s tongue to say no, to deny that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. But she found herself nodding and watched Amanda’s eyes grow even rounder.

“Did you see him? The man you’re supposed to marry?”

Rachel took comfort in the fact that her friend had been sucked into the fantasy as easily as she had and nodded a third time.

Amanda stepped closer. “Alright, this next part is really important. Where exactly did they get this cake?”

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#BookBlast: Year of Living Blonde by @AndreaSimonne

Andrea Simonne grew up as an army brat and discovered she had a talent for creating personas at each new school. The most memorable was a surfer chick named "Ace" who never touched a surf board in her life, but had an impressive collection of puka shell necklaces. Eventually she turned her imagination towards writing. Andrea still enjoys creating personas, though these days they occupy her books. She currently makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two sons.

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Blurb:

A funny and sizzling romp about discovering your inner pin-up girl...

Plain-Jane bakery owner Natalie Anderson has always followed the recipe for a safe life. When her husband dumps her for a seductive older woman, it’s time to throw out that recipe and start from scratch. She cooks up a plan to transform herself from mousy brown to sexy blonde. Meanwhile, she’s trying to expand her Seattle bakery, La Dolce Vita, but runs into an obstacle in the form of her irritatingly handsome landlord.

Astronomer Anthony Novello’s good looks and charm usually guarantees him a free pass with women, though that’s not the case with his new tenant, Natalie. Plain, plump, and persnickety—he’s never met a woman more annoying. But when Anthony returns from a telescope observing run, he makes a discovery of the non-celestial kind. Natalie has changed. He’s amazed to find himself attracted to her. Sparks fly as he tries to convince her there’s more to him than meets the eye.

However, when Natalie’s ex-husband decides to win her back, she’s forced to choose. Is her year of living blonde over? Or is this the start of a new and much sweeter life….

Buy link: Amazon

Excerpt:

Natalie glances at the clock. It’s almost ten. Kind of late for visitors. Pausing the television, she goes over and peeks cautiously through the front window.

A bolt of lightning streaks through her.

Anthony is standing on her front porch. He’s wearing his motorcycle jacket and holding his black helmet at his side. The big bad wolf at her door.

What’s he doing here?

She glances at herself in the hall mirror. No makeup and her hair a mess. Great.

He rings the bell again and she marches over, ready to take the offensive. Ready to tell him to go away. But when Natalie yanks open the door and sees the expression on his face, she hesitates.

“What’s wrong?” she asks finally.

He takes his time with his reply. “I needed to see you tonight.”

“Did something happen?”

“It’s a long story.” He smiles, but there isn’t much humor in it.

She’s never seen Anthony like this before. He never looks anything less than perfect, but there’s strain on his face and around his eyes, and she suspects this is the real man

He takes a step toward her, lowering his voice. “Let me in, Natalie.”

Standing broad-shouldered and solemn in her doorway, he’s an imposing figure, but she isn’t afraid. Despite the fiasco with the bakery, she realizes she still trusts him.

Without a word, she steps out of the way to let him come inside. 

The door closes and she walks back into the living room. There’s a sound and she sees that Anthony has dropped his motorcycle helmet on a chair. 

“This is a bad idea,” Natalie tells him. “I don’t know why you came here. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“I think you know exactly why I’m here.” His voice is low as it vibrates through the room.

There’s an erotic thrill at his words. “How can I be with you after what happened?”

“Because this isn’t about any of that.” For a moment, his eyes darken with regret, but then turn heated. “Whatever happens next is between you and me.” 

Natalie shakes her head, but Anthony moves closer until he’s in right in front of her. She feels his hand on her cheek as the other cradles her head, gently holding her still. “Don’t,” he says, his tone imploring. “Don’t say no. Tell me to stay.” 

 

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#BookBlast: Shimmy for Me by @DeannaMCameron

DeAnna Cameron writes novels featuring feisty heroines transformed by true love and belly dance—the oldest and most exciting dance form in the world. Her novels have been translated into Japanese, Polish, and Serbian, and her work has been praised for its “deft prose, energetic characters and . . . colorful images” by RT Book Reviews and called “most entertaining” by the Historical Novel Review. Before turning to fiction, DeAnna worked as a journalist, writing and editing for several Southern California newspapers and magazines. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, as well as its Orange County chapter. When she isn’t working on her next novel, she can usually be found at her jeweler’s bench, creating new wire-wrap, bead, and multimedia designs. She lives in Orange County, Calif., with her family.

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Blurb:

Juggling two jobs to keep her belly dance studio afloat keeps Abby Anderson’s mind off her shattered love life—until a reawakened pain sends her into the arms of an anonymous stranger she plucks from the audience of her tribal belly dance show. No names, no strings, no romance. She tells herself it’s a harmless hookup.

Until he turns up at her day job . . .

Derek Collier, the sexy heir to the Collier media dynasty, just landed everything he’s always wanted: the publisher’s seat at the Orange County Herald. Except his first order of business is to sell the newspaper. Reeling from his family’s betrayal, his only comfort is the memory of that mysterious belly dancer and the perfect night they spent together.

He won’t rest until he finds her again.

She’ll lose everything if he does.

Excerpt:

By the time Abby took her place on the small stage, the lights were low, and a slow, snaky melody had filled the restaurant’s main room. She was only a silhouette to the roomful of diners, holding her pose like a living statue. She usually closed her eyes during this prelude and focused on the energy of the music and the audience.

Not tonight.

In the darkness, her gaze roamed. She wanted a good view before the stage lights came up to brighten her, and blind her.

Nearly every seat was filled. A good draw for a Thursday night. Mostly couples, some groups. But it was the single men she searched for. The ones who sat on the fringe to watch.

Would it be the college jock tipping back beer in a bottle? The shy guy in the Oxford shirt fidgeting with his soda straw? Maybe the older . . .

A Suit at the bar caught her eye. One hand wrapped around a highball glass, the other tugging at his tie. Calm. Confident. And sexy as hell. The way his gaze locked on her made her tingle in all the right places.

           

He was the one.

Derek Collier sipped his Macallan 18 and watched the restaurant’s belly dancer come alive to the hypnotic rhythm pulsing through the dining room. When he’d seen the words “belly dancing” glowing in blue neon beneath the Sultan’s Tent sign, he’d expected the kind of flashy beads and sequins dancer he’d seen a hundred times before.

He didn’t expect this.

The poster at the front called her Zenina, a tribal fusion belly dancer. Whatever that was. From his vantage point at the bar, she looked like nothing he’d ever seen—part bohemian waif, part harem fantasy, part . . . Damn, the way she swayed and writhed up there was making it impossible to think.

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