Book Reviews now accepted through The Book Escape E-zine. Please contact Jennifer at: with your blurb, release date, author name, and publisher. Thank you!

Thursday, April 30, 2015

His Target, His Desire By Aspen J. Lee...

His Target His Desire
By: Aspen J Lee
Published by: Siren-Bookstrand

Available for Sale at: Amazon, Siren-Bookstrand, Barnes and Noble, ibooks.
Retail Price for eBook: $4.50
eBook ISBN: 978-163258-722-0

Publisher Website: Siren-Bookstrand
Author Website: aspenjlee

The rules of survival in this line of work: trust no one, hold no assumptions, don’t fall for your target. Bryant Holt breaks all three.   
For 1.5 million, Cypress Howard is now his target. Ex-black ops, Bryant finds he can’t resist her temptations.
He’s way out of her league, sexy as hell and asking her out for dinner. It just doesn’t make sense. But Cypress is frightened of letting any one in.
Why? Because Cypress now lives incognito. The real her is dead, or so everyone thinks.
A deal is struck between secret factions and Cypress is now being hunted. Bryant’s claimed her, and he’ll do anything to save her. But first he must unravel the maze of her past.
When her life begins to implode, Cypress’s lover turns into James Bond. Who the hell is he? It’s too late to question, Bryant’s already chained her heart. All she can do is hold on.


Firstly I would like to thank Jennifer for hosting me today. I appreciate the space to talk about my book, because us authors’ love to talk about our books.
I write erotic romance. Why? Because sweet romance is, well, sweet, but erotic romance is fun. Super fun.

I never dreamt I would write erotica. I’m not a prude. I’ve read JR Ward and Fifty Shades and never shied once. But to write it myself and have people I know read it and perhaps wonder if that’s what I get up to in the bedroom, or would like to get up to in the bedroom, was another thing.

Then an author friend revealed her little secret, an erotic ménage novella and the cogs in the brain started turning. I took the challenge and learnt the rules of erotica. What rules? Well there’s not many, but the most important being no purple prose—I had to google that one—which essentially meant he couldn’t undo his zip to reveal his throbbing love weapon and her soft flower of desire couldn’t pulsate.

An erotica newbie, I started tame, hurriedly typing over the spicy bits and half closing my eyes during the editing. To my surprise Siren-Bookstrand picked up Slipping Through His Fingers, and to my even great surprise requested I spice up the already steamy scenes by changing my descriptive wording from tame to explicit. I complied without blinking. 

One book later, and some good reviews behind me, the erotic writer was born. So guess what? The spice got hotter. I threw caution, inhibitions (mine and my fictitious lovers), clothes (just my characters), everything, to the wind and dived in, no longer peering through fingers while my hero and heroine enjoyed themselves.

Erotic has been around for centuries. I have a book published by Random House on erotica from an underground magazine of Victorian England, which starts on page one with ‘A journal of facetive and voluptuous reading’. Thank God we’ve moved forward with our wording.

No purple prose please.

(The Pearl, Ballantine Books, 1996).


They both returned to the lounge and Cypress lowered herself on to the leather settee. Bryant sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her and leaned forward, elbows on thighs, wine glass the pinnacle of the arrowhead his arms created.
“So, what’s on the menu?”
She laughed, and the sound touched deep inside him.
“What’s that?”
“A large carcass with the bowels and bones removed, and cooked by inserting hot coals into the empty cavity of its gut.”
He got the look he desired.
“I hope your joking.”
“I am. But trust me, you’ll like what I’ve cooked. I’ve done a selection in case you’re vegetarian.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.”
“I like to please, Cypress.”
He placed his glass beside him and slid off the edge of the table to kneel at her feet.
“Shall we get you more comfortable?”
He gave her a heart’s beat to halt him, before he reached down to undo the buckle of her right high-heel. Raising her foot enough, he slid the shoe off and placed it to the side. To his satisfaction, he heard her sharp intake of breath and fought to keep his face impassive, not wanting to reveal the triumphant smile. The left foot came next, and with the release of the buckle, his heart rate notched up a couple of beats. When both were off and out the way, he glanced up, first meeting her lips, which she licked in a titillating way, then further up, a few seconds later, to her eyes. She sat rigid, her hands on the armrests, tracking his moves.
Without releasing eye contact, he trailed one finger up her left inner calf to the knee, feather-light. The right finger trailed up her other calf a fraction later. Her skin was smooth and soft, the sort of skin a man wanted to wrap himself in.

Best wishes,
~Jennifer Labelle~

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Entice A Frog By Scarlett Jade...

Kiss A Frog 

*** Blurb***

Lily Halloway had been best friends with Abby Killian and Laura Monroe since
before she could remember. Even though they had their differences, their love of romance novels brought them together monthly for their book club. They decided to read a popular erotic romance and see if their lives changed in the month before Lily’s thirtieth birthday. The quest was an easy one. Kiss all the frogs you can and try to find a prince. Simple, right? What Lily discovers is that finding an eligible bachelor under forty is nearly impossible, and after a couple laughable sexcapades, she's ready
to give up. She agrees to one more date with a co-worker’s brother, only to prove she can get a boyfriend before they can. Meeting Luca De Soros, the sexy FBI agent for a blind date propels her on a crash course with danger. Lily can’t stay away from his heat, even though she knows she can be burned in the process. Luca is everything she ever wanted in a hero, but time might run out for her to be saved. Will she be able to see if happily ever after can really happen, or will she miss out on her thirtieth birthday altogether?


“What?” she interjected, taking a big drink of her coffee.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Why do I even bother talking?” She sighed melodramatically, and Lily gave an apologetic shrug.
“Look, I fell out and hit my head, I could be suffering from a concussion here, soooorrrry I’m not listening to every word that drips out of your mouth. Here you two are going on about a stupid book, and I should be at the hospital! What if I died tonight, how would that make you feel?”
“The only thing you’re suffering from,” she quipped back, “is lack of sex.”
Lily rolled her eyes in return. “This is true.” Her battery operated boyfriend had been getting a serious workout. Duracell stocks should be doing nicely right about now…
“As I was saying,” Abby continued, sniffing in disdain, “I think we should be able to finish it in a month. We should meet back here, and see how much our lives have changed. What do you guys think? I really feel that it will push us into new adventures.”
Lily felt a bubble of laughter building in her throat, and she choked it down with another drink of coffee. Burping behind her hand, she snorted. “You really think this book is going to change our lives? In a month?” Her laughter erupted anyway, and she lost it, smacking her hand on the table and guffawing like a wild animal. Sitting up finally and wiping the tears from her eyes, she found her friends were staring at her like she was an alien. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.
“If you aren’t going to be a believer in this book changing our lives, Lily, maybe you should just go home.” Abby sniffed again and crossed her arms across her chest, making her monster boobs look even bigger.
Laura nodded, mimicking Abby. “Yeah!”
“Okay, okay.” She threw her hands up in defense. “Fine, I’m a believer. This book will change our lives in a month. Really.”
“I say,” Abby continued, “that we just do what we want for a month. Kiss a whole bunch of frogs until we find our princes. I mean, it should be fun! We aren’t necessarily getting any younger. I’m twenty-nine, you’re a month away from thirty, Lily, and Laura is almost twenty-nine.”
Lily gasped in horror. “Don’t even remind me I’m almost thirty. That’s a dirty word we won’t allow in this conversation. So you’re saying we should be sluts for a month and that it’s going to make some huge change in our lives, by my birthday?” She snickered behind her hand.
“Let’s make it interesting,” Laura interjected. “How about if you don’t have a boyfriend by your thirtieth birthday, I’ll buy back the book from you, and I’ll pay for you to have a spa day for your birthday.”
Abby bounced in her seat, visibly excited. “Yes! I’ll throw in two hundred dollars for a shopping spree. Be a believer, Lily.”
She stared back and forth between her two best friends and rubbed her forehead, already knowing she had to agree. “Fine.”
What did I get myself into? I hope they don’t expect me to really read this…

Available here:

Connect with Scarlett:

Amazon page:


Scarlett Jade is just a small town Southern girl who is now a Northern transplant. She was always found from a young age with her brow furrowed, scribbling words on paper. Now that she is grown, life isn't much different, she still scribbles words, but mostly on the computer! She is married to the man of her dreams, her real life knight in shining armor and Prince Charming. She has one son who is the apple of her eye and she homeschools year round. You can typically find her playing in the dirt with her son or snuggled on the couch with her dog Peanut, reading a good book. She loves chocolate, thinks coffee should be a religion, and loves to make people laugh with her quirky sense of humor. She is bold, brazen, and even been told she's ballsy, but she doesn't mind, she takes it in stride. She has a huge passion for all things paranormal and has a penchant for spicy love stories that leave you turning the pages and dying to slide between the sheets of her next book!


Best wishes,
~Jennifer Labelle~

Monday, April 27, 2015

Seeker By Amy Reece Release Day Blitz...

Seeker Banner Seeker 
Ally Moran has always just known about things—things she shouldn’t really be able to know…
Suddenly when she starts having vivid visions about a former friend who is in desperate trouble, the adults in her life think she might hold the key to an ancient mystery.
Jack Ruiz has a troubled past, but is trying to make a fresh start at a new high school…
He just wants to keep his head down and graduate, hopefully before he turns 20. The last thing he needs is to get involved with a feisty redhead and her psychic visions.
While Jack valiantly attempts to keep Ally at arm’s length, she is equally determined to be a part of his life. Who will win this battle of wills?
More importantly…
Can this unlikely couple work together to find answers to Ally’s visions before someone gets killed?


Buy Links


About the author
Amy Reece lives in Albuquerque, NM, with her husband and family. She loves to read and travel and has an unhealthy addiction to dogs. She loves wine and friends, in that order. Stay tuned for the rest of The Seeker Series, coming Summer and Fall 2015.

Hosted By


Best wishes,
~Jennifer Labelle~

Friday, April 24, 2015

No Words Required By Heather Sheldon...

No Words Required – 

Bethany Miller needs to overcome her low self-esteem and mute the looped recording of her mother’s insults playing in the background of her soul.  When out dancing with her best friend, she meets a handsome new man.  But he has a secret.
Dylan Jamison, born deaf, is an avid lip reader.  After Bethany receives a phone call delivering the news of her mother’s near fatal accident, Dylan stays by her side.  Against his protests, Bethany pulls the plug to end her mother’s life and their relationship seems destined to be over before it started.
Will the universal language of love prevail?

Beth glanced at her newly named Mystery Man. Dylan. She liked the name. It suited his
strong lean form, and dark steamy gaze. Heat rose in her cheeks. He shrugged palms up
questioning if she wanted to head back out to dance or stay put. A glimpse of the kissing couple
beside her set her feet in motion to the dance floor.
The music slowed and the space emptied for the first time all night. Only a dozen couples
remained. Dylan looked at her and raised his expressive eyebrows.
She grinned and placed a hand on his shoulder. He clasped her other hand, bringing it to his
chest. Air could still circulate between them, but when his other hand settled on her lower back,
sparks of sexual energy raced through her body like sprinters at the Olympics.
She didn’t dare look at his face. If he tried to kiss her, she would dissolve into a puddle, or
pass out, or drop dead from desire.
Slowly grooving to the music, she leaned in to smell him. The scents of sexy cologne, clean
laundry, a man and love filled her sinuses. She wished she could bottle it and take a whiff
whenever she felt un-pretty.
By the second chorus, she relaxed and placed her cheek against his chest. He dropped her
hand and wrapped his arms around her waist. His movements were slow and easy to follow. His
arms were muscular and made her feel protected. She wanted to stay the way they were all night
and sway. But the song ended and the DJ announced last call.
They walked hand-in-hand off the dance floor. At the bar, Cody passed around glasses too
large for shots. They toasted a silent cheer while Blurred Lines played and the dance floor
Ashley choked on the sparkling water they each gulped.
Cody laughed and made the motion of holding a steering wheel to drive. Ashley leaned into
her ear and yelled something she totally couldn’t understand.
She nodded, anyway and watched Cody. He didn’t seem drunk and it was nice to know his
sobriety extended to looking out for Ashley. Usually that job fell to Beth.
Tonight had been the best Friday night ever.
They had fun.
They danced.
They met handsome men with potential.
She couldn’t ask for anything more. Except maybe Dylan’s phone number.
Excerpt two:
The handsome pair stood ten feet away and third deep in a drink line. The blond looked
Bethany’s way and gave her a sexy, bad-boy smile. Butterflies stretched their wings in her
Ashley slid off the seat and waved at the two hotties. The men exchanged glances. After a
mutual head nod passed between them, they walked over.
The dark haired man’s intense gaze moved over Beth. She froze under the caress of his
stare. A sensuality she’d never encountered swirled through the air around him. Her heart raced
faster than when she’d been in full-on cardio-dance mode.
From the makeshift megaphone of Ashley’s cupped hands, “I get the blond,” cut through the
The chiseled features of Mr. Blond model dipped to block Bethany’s view of the tall, dark
mystery man. More muscular than his slimmer and taller brunette friend, Mr. B’s handsome face
came straight off an Abercrombie bag. He flashed a white-toothed provocative grin and one of
his killer bright blue eyes winked. What was it with blonds? She was not about to hope for
potential from another player.
She glanced at his dark-haired friend. The taller man with smoldering brown eyes stared
back. His lips rolled in to moisten. She could not keep her eyes off his mouth. Her mind leapt
into unexpected, naughty scenarios involving his lips. Things she never considered until the third
Her cheeks heated and she inhaled, forcing her gaze on the floor. Wow. This guy’s face
appealed to her on so many levels. His features weren’t as perfect as the blond’s, but he intrigued
her past rational thought.
She sipped her drink and peeked at him over the glass’s rim. His intense gaze met hers and
seemed to offer a silent promise of interesting things to come. He tilted his head, ever so slightly
to his right and studied her, looking past her limp unimpressive hair and borrowed outfit. His
wide pupils penetrated into her very essence.
“You are a fool,” her mother’s voice spat. She pushed aside her doubt, lowered her drink
and raised her head to stare into the dark eyes of her next dance partner. She was here for fun and
nasty memories of her mother’s ridicule would not be allowed to ruin things.
The handsome stranger raised one eyebrow in question. His kissable mouth tweaked up in
one corner. Those warm and spicy brown eyes peered into her soul. Did he have Superman’s x-ray
vision? Was he studying her lace bra and panties? Darn, why hadn’t she taken the time to
find a matched set?
A giggle caught in her chest.
Her hot mystery man’s mouth pulled wider.
Had he sensed her nervous reaction? The bar’s noise level wouldn’t let a jet engine cut
through it. She hadn’t opened her mouth or bent over with mirth. Yet she could tell he
understood her anxiety.
His wide-mouthed, one-sided grin opened to reveal straight white teeth. What would
exploring that mouth feel like?
His smile broadened.
Dear God, he was hearing her thoughts.
Buy Links

Heather Sheldon has loved books from as far back as she remembers.  An avid diary keeper and letter writer, her desire to pursue story telling on a broader scale didn’t emerge until forty.  Now she writes and edits most every day while enjoying the expansive blue skies of California.  Recently relocated from the Midwest, she does miss the change of seasons, but not the snow.  Her three daughters, husband and a handful of pets keep her busy when not at the keyboard or out to a movie.

Please connect with me:

Twitter:  @heather_sheldon  

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

The Healer Series By C.J. Anaya...

The Healer (The Healer Series Book 1)


Seventeen-year-old Hope longs for a normal teenage life, but with a gift like hers, normal equals healing illnesses and injuries instantly. Keeping a secret like that isn’t easy, especially when two handsome, young men move into town and begin unearthing other secrets concerning Hope’s future and past, revealing to Hope that her gift may be the fulfillment of a prophecy gone wrong.


I knelt down in front of him and raised a tissue toward his face. In a flash he had me by my wrist.
“What are you doing?” His suspicion of me made me want to laugh. It was so ironic.
“I’m cleaning the blood off your face. Believe me, it needs to be done.”
“It hurts too much for you to touch it.” He released my wrist.
“You’ll survive.”
I reached my hand up to his face and slowly began to wipe the blood from his chin and then his lips. I cupped the side of his face in my other hand to keep his head steady.
“Alone at last,” he whispered.
“Was it everything you hoped it would be?”
“It will be.”
Tie reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. The light contact on my cheek gave me goose bumps.
“You could do it, you know.”
“Do what?”
“You could heal me.” He said it without any hesitation.
I stopped wiping the blood from his face and gave him a steady look. His gaze never wavered, and this time there was no smug little smile to contend with, just a very unfamiliar expression of sincerity.
My face was only a few inches from his, but I couldn’t work up the energy to put more distance between us. His confidence and knowledge about my gift made me feel nervous and happy all at the same time.
I wanted to pour out my heart to him and tell him everything I was capable of. I wanted to show him what I could do. I wanted to heal him.
Then I remembered who he was and why he was here. If I healed him there would be no going back.

Available here:

The Black Blossom (The Healer Series Book 2)


Princess of the Kagami Empire and The Healer of the world. Life as an Imperial Princess is rife with danger, betrayal and intrigue as Mikomi joins forces with a rebel group of samurai warriors in order to usurp the throne from her tyrannical father. To win this seemingly hopeless war, she must train with Musubi, a warrior in the rebel army, and learn the art of the sword without revealing her identity as The Healer.  Unbeknownst to her, Musubi harbors his own secret identity and personal agenda, both of which hold dark consequences for Mikomi's future. Neither one can afford to share their secrets, nor can they ignore the powerful chemistry building between them.  Further complications arise at the arrival of her betrothed, Katsu, who must aid her in mastering control of her own gift before she ascends as a full kami on her eighteenth birthday. Katsu is not the cold-hearted warrior god she expected, but how can she spend eternity with a deity she may never love?  
Determined to avoid her destiny, she spies on her father and his generals, collecting intelligence for the rebel army in the hope that one day the empire of Kagami will be liberated and her own future will be hers to control.

“That was quite possibly the worst thing I have ever before seen, and I’ve witnessed countless gory wounds in battle. The way you handled that was...impressive.”
His coloring appeared quite pale but had been slightly light to begin with. I wondered at his background and means of work. He certainly didn’t look like a regular soldier, but his long cloak covered his clothing underneath.
I hesitated, still uncertain as to whether or not he wished for me to speak. I glanced at him below lowered lashes, and found my answer as his gaze locked with mine. “Ah, yes, childbirth. It is not for the faint of heart.” I gave him a small smile and then hurriedly averted my gaze when he returned my smile with one of his own. I felt his hand tighten ever so slightly on my shoulder and then he withdrew.
I couldn’t account for the feeling of loss that descended upon me in that moment, but it was clear that remaining in this man’s presence was simply not good for me. I folded my arms across my chest. It was then that I realized my cloak and arms were covered in blood. There was always blood in childbirth, but I was soaked in it. I raised my arms up and studied the front of my cloak.
Blood everywhere.
“Hatsumi,” I said, glancing at the young woman’s small form. Blood continued to coat the bedding beneath her, dripping to the floor. I could see a glassy look begin to grow in her eyes. 
I rushed over to the bed and motioned for Daiki to take the baby. Then I grabbed Hatsumi’s hands in my
own.“No! Hatsumi, you focus on me. You look at me, right now!”
I grabbed her ki with my own and saw that she was hemorrhaging. Her blood would not thicken due to the amount she had lost. I could stop the bleeding, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to repair the blood loss before her organs went into shock and she died. I instructed her ki to repair the damage, and then went to work trying to help her poor, weak body replace the blood she had lost.
I felt Musubi’s presence close to me as I worked, and knew his eyes were studying every move I made, every facet of the situation. I did my best to look like I was examining her so he wouldn’t assume I was simply sitting there watching her bleed to death.
I worked with her body for ten minutes when the first of her organs, her left kidney, began to shut down.

Available here:

Connect with C.J. 

C. J. Anaya began writing short stories for family and friends when she was thirteen years old. This soon morphed into an extensive project every year during Christmas as a way to create a fun and inexpensive Christmas gift. Her passion for reading and writing led her to following her own dreams of becoming a published author. She was born in Utah and raised everywhere else. She even lived a few years in Brazil, enjoying the people, the culture and learning the beautiful language of Portuguese.As a mother of four children she can be found at any given time changing diapers, playing dress-ups with her daughters, getting her fanny kicked in Mario Kart by her snarky little son, and escaping into a corner of the house with her kindle for a nice, quiet (lol in her dreams) read. She is also married to the most deliciously, handsome looking Latino. As always, she has plenty to write about.


Best wishes,
~Jennifer Labelle~

Friday, April 17, 2015

A GIVEAWAY & A New Release with Sable Hunter...

One Man’s Treasure


Jet is a hero—Special Forces, an Equalizer, a motorcycle riding MMA fighter who is part pirate and all man. No one messes with Jet.
He is formidable—the tall, dark, and deadly type.
In One Man’s Treasure, he’s on a quest for gold. Jet travels to Mexico to fight a challenger before he sails the Sirena to bring up a fortune from the sunken Spanish galleon, San Miguel. As usual, Jet is in control, master of his destiny. Until…
Jet meets Sami.
Sami waits tables at a club in Veracruz. Jet can’t help but notice the slight, shy bartender. It angers him when customers give Sami a hard time.
Only problem—Jet assumes Sami is a boy.
Sami is actually Samantha. She’s come to Mexico to find healing and the truth about what happened to her best friend. When she has to leave town fast, she stows away on Jet’s boat.
Imagine his surprise when he finds Sami…and then discovers she’s a woman!
Beneath a silvery moon, Jet watches a mermaid play in the sea and discovers that
One Man’s Treasure can be more than diamonds and gold.
One Man’s Treasure is love. 


When he put his hand on the door knob, he grinned down at the cat who was right beside him, her eyes following his every movement. Opening the door, he watched Polly run in, expectantly. He followed, ready to pick up her ball or maybe see a mouse she could smell that had found its way on board.
“Come back to bed.”
Jet froze.
“When did you leave me?” A crunching sound from

Polly’s throat was her answer.
Jet took a deep breath, he knew that voice. Rounding

the end of the bunk, he stared at his intruder. “What the hell are you doing on my boat?” he yelled.
Sami sat up so fast, she bumped her head on the bunk above. “Jet! I can explain!”
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. She scrambled around and grabbed the shirt she’d pulled off the night before and tugged it over her T-shirt, in an attempt to cover her burgeoning breasts.
“Get down and get your ass in the galley.” He stalked out.
 “Can I use the bathroom first?”
“It’s the head, dammit, and yes, use the head first.”
Jet fumed his way down the hall.
He had a damn stowaway!
Sami was almost in tears, but she fought them back.

He had every right to be angry. Meekly, she crawled from the bunk, straightened the sheets and cover and padded to the bathroom to do her business.
Jet poured another cup of coffee and tried to calm down. The kid had saved his life, he couldn’t exactly make him walk the plank.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” Jet stared at Sami. “Thank you for saving me, by the way.” That needed to be said, now he’d said it.
Sami blushed. “You’re welcome.”
“Now, what the hell are you doing on my boat?” Sami hung her head. “I didn’t intend to be here, I was

just hiding from these men who were chasing me.”
“What men?” Jet frowned.
“Angel Andrade and Rey Olmos.”
The names meant nothing to Jet. “Did you get their 
drinks wrong?”
“No.” Sami shook her head, it didn’t matter. There was no use burdening Jet with her sad tale. “Look, I didn’t know you were leaving so quickly. I hid, fell asleep and the next thing I knew we were out at sea.”
“Well, I didn’t want to refight the battle of the Alamo with Santoro and his gang, so I thought it was time for me to cast off.” Jet stared at the kid. He couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. Yet, there was something about him. Something that bothered Jet, made him feel uncomfortable. “You’ll have to stay out of my way. And you’re going ashore the first chance I get to put you off.”
“Okay.” She looked up at his dear face. “Where will that be?”
“Cuba,” he spat out, not really meaning it.
“At least the embargo’s been lifted,” she mused. “Okay, that will be fine.”
Jet grumbled under his breath. “You ate my orange, didn’t you?” At least he wasn’t going crazy.
“I’m sorry. I won’t eat anymore, just some bread, maybe.” She looked at him hopefully. “Or I could cook for you if you’d let me, I’m a decent cook.”
“We’ll see.” Jet got down another cup. “Want coffee?”
Seeing his hopeful glance, Jet sighed. “Sit down.” He set about to feed his unexpected companion. “If you’re going to work around here, you need to eat. Looks to me like you need to fill out and put on some muscle.”
Sami’s expression didn’t change. “I’ve gained some weight recently.”
Jet snorted. “Really? I think you need to gain a lot more. Before we reach landfall, I’ll have you hoisting the rigs and swinging the jib.”
“Will you teach me to tie knots?”
As he put bacon in a pan, he glanced over his shoulder at the small guy. “Sure. Where are you from?”
“What were you doing in Mexico?” Jet broke a couple of eggs and added them to the bacon.
Sami’s stomach was growling. She didn’t want to tell Jet the whole story, there was no use. “I came down to help a friend.”
He seemed satisfied with her explanation. Seeing some dishtowels to fold, Sami made herself useful. “If you’ll tell me some things to do to help, I’d be glad to do them. I don’t want a free ride, I want to work.”
Jet appreciated the boy’s attitude. “Well, I’ll see what I can come up with. How old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-three in October.” Sami knew she hadn’t done a lot of living in that time.
Jet turned to face his guest. “You look younger.” His eyes roved Sami’s narrow shoulders, small hands, big eyes and...graceful neck. If he didn’t know better...
When Sami saw that Jet was looking at her really close, she almost confessed. What would it matter if he knew she wasn’t a male?
“You’d just better be glad you’re not a girl.” Jet turned back around.
What? Sami was confused. “Why?”
“Because I’d have to throw you overboard. I don’t allow women on my ship when I’m sailing. It’s bad luck. Very bad luck.”
Sami pressed her lips together. So much for honesty. He couldn’t know she was a girl. “What kind of bad luck?”
“Storms. Pirates. Shipwreck. Scurvy.”
“Scurvy?” He turned to grin at her, so Sami knew he was kidding. “I don’t think a woman could cause scurvy.”
“No, more like STDs. Actually, they’re a distraction, unless she’s naked and then she’ll lull a storm like oil on water.”
“So naked is good?”
Jet handed Sami a plate and sat down with his own. “Naked is always good. Have you known many beautiful women, Sami?”
Sami fidgeted in her chair. “Well, I had one come on to me in the bar the other night. She grabbed my crotch.”
Jet roared with laughter. “Good for you.”
Sami ate slowly. She felt extremely self-conscious. Not only because she was halfway in love with the guy, or the idea of the guy since she didn’t really know him. But she was also afraid he’d see through her lame disguise at any moment. She didn’t have her breasts flattened by the compression bra, so she sat hunched over, but there wasn’t a dang thing she could do about her small hands or feet. And she didn’t have the stupid cap to pull over her hair. Taking a sip of the coffee he’d poured for her, she looked up and met his eyes.
Jet was staring, he knew he was.

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Sable Hunter writes romance, some of it quite spicy. She writes what she likes to read and enjoys putting her fantasies on paper. Her stories are emotional reads where the heroine is faced with challenges, like one of her favorite songs – she’s holding out for a hero – and boy, can she deliver a hero. Her aim is to write a story that will make you laugh, cry and sweat. If she can wring those emotions out of a reader, then she has done her job. She grew up in south Louisiana along the mysterious bayous where the Spanish moss hangs thickly over the dark waters. The culture of Louisiana has shaped her outlook on life and made its way into her novels where the supernatural is entirely normal. Presently, Sable lives in Texas and spends most of her time in wild and wonderful Austin. She is passionate about animals and has been known to charm creatures from a one ton bull to a family of raccoons. For fun, Sable has been known to haunt cemeteries and battlefields armed with night-vision cameras and digital recorders hunting proof that love survives beyond the grave.She owns Beau Coup Publishing company where she publishes her own work as well as many other fantastic authors. Join her in her world of magic, alpha heroes, sexy cowboys and hot, steamy, to-die-for sex. Step into the shoes of her heroines and escape to places where dreams can come true and orgasms only come in multiples.


Rarely will you find Ryan O'Leary in a state of rest; if he's not on the ice or kicking around a soccer ball, he's plotting his next story or out on the town with friends. His fun and flirty nature makes it possible for him to write the kind of romance that makes the reader both smile and tingle.

All J's Closet Series of eBooks Nominated in Goodreads Indie Authors Everybody Should Read - April 1, 2013

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Sable has generously offered one ebook copy of One Man's Treasure to one lucky commenter. So, please leave a comment with your email address' for a chance to win it.

Best wishes,
~Jennifer Labelle~

Monday, April 13, 2015

The Extraction List By Renee Meland...

BOOK NAME: The Extraction List        
GENRE: Young Adult Dystopian

BLURB:When fifteen-year-old Riley Crane finds out her best friend Olivia is being abused at home, she knows just who to turn to: her mother Claire, writer and spokesperson for President Gray's Parental Morality Law. Under this law, Task Force Officers remove children from their homes if their parents do not meet certain guidelines, taking them to government-run boarding schools. Once they arrive, supervisors rehabilitate them, turning them into productive members of society. Or at least that was how it was supposed to work...
Now, after a government official threatens to make Riley the law's latest victim, Riley and Claire must rely on Cain Foley, a gifted killer with a tongue as sharp as the knives he carries, to get them out of America alive. Though he slices through men's necks as if they are warm butter, Riley can't seem to keep her cheeks from flushing every time he speaks. But when they stumble upon a deserted boarding school, Riley sees that escaping the country is only part of their problem. Together, Riley and Cain figure out that a killer can save a life, and a mother can damn a nation.
RELEASE DATE: April 7th, 2015
Twitter @reneenmeland
Author Bio: Renee N. Meland lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. Her favorite obsessions are Rome, learning new recipes, and exploring the world around her. She is an avid reader of speculative fiction, and believes that telling stories is the best job in the world.
Sometimes a killer can save a life. In this case that life happened to be mine. I wish I had met him before the whole mess started. Maybe he could have saved more of us.
Maybe he could have saved us all.
I met the man who saved my life exactly one month after he killed his twentieth person. Of course he didn’t call it “murder,” he called it surviving, though sometimes I thought he should try to explain the difference to the people buried in the ground. To me, one label didn’t necessarily cancel out the other.


One of my teachers used to say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Trust me, I knew all about it; I called that road “mother.” That teacher never mentioned what the road back was made with. I figured it was because nobody’d ever found one. Hell sort of struck me as a one-way-ticket kind of thing.
The night the Taskforce showed up on our doorstep, my mom screamed. After my brother Aidan’s death, then Dad leaving, hearing her carrying on like a crazy person wasn’t exactly new and different. I didn’t even flinch at first. I figured maybe she was missing my dad all the way to the bottom of a tequila bottle—again.
After a couple minutes though I slammed my copy of Crime and Punishment shut and left my room. I took my sweet time going downstairs to see her, hoping to hold on to the little bit of normal I’d had just seconds earlier. I stopped by the bathroom and grabbed a giant bottle of aspirin. Just in case.
Then I decided I was kidding myself. I knew better. There was no way she wouldn’t need aspirin.
“Riley! Get your stuff! We have to leave right now!” I ducked as Mom greeted me with a scene full of flying paper, jackets, and a few photo albums. They seemed to spin like a paper and plastic tornado, twirling through the air and landing unevenly in a giant duffel bag spread open at her feet. Even in the chaos I paused for a second to wonder how Mom’s hair managed to stay fastened perfectly in place. The image in front of me looked almost ordinary, a beautiful blonde woman in a fitted black skirt, white blouse, and hair pinned back in a bun, with a briefcase resting just inside the door.
Except this woman had thrown half our living room into orbit.
“Mom, what’s going on? What happened?”
Mom grabbed me by the shoulders and stared right into my eyes. “We need to leave right now, okay? I need you to not ask questions and just go pack a bag. You need to just trust me and do what I tell you, okay? And do NOT come downstairs until I say so.” Mom didn’t blink. I remembered the last time she didn’t blink during a whole conversation: When she told me that she and Dad needed to “work on their communication.” I found out later that was Mom-speak for “Dad’s about to abandon us and slam the door for the last time.”
I suddenly wished for the empty tequila bottle.
“You are my life.” Mom kissed my forehead, and I ran up the stairs. I didn’t come down again until I heard the gunshots. At fifteen, I was all too familiar with the sound. A person was never too young to know the snap of a gun anymore. But it was different coming from our house, like a firecracker going off inside my brain.
When I got to the entryway, a pool of blood belonging to a man in a gray suit tried to hold my shoes to the floor. The sticky mess grabbed the soles of my sneakers and smelled like raw steak fresh out of the plastic wrap. I winced as I stepped through it toward my mom. A pink piece of paper rested on top of the pool, slowly flooding with the dark red liquid. Bo, my mom’s best friend, had appeared too. Pistol smoke swirled gently from the tip of his weapon.
It wasn’t the blood, but the paper that made me scream. I felt the color drain from my cheeks, and I wondered if I looked as white as the dead man lying on our floor. “What the hell is going on? Is that pink paper what I think it is?”
Mom ignored my question. I hated being ignored more than anything, especially by her. But since there was a dead body involved, I figured I’d make an exception.
“Oh my GOD—you KILLED him!” Mom screamed, and in all her stick-thin glory started flailing her arms, hitting Bo with the strength of a flightless bird. Her bony fists bounced off his body as if his chest were made of rubber. If it hadn’t been a murder scene, it would have been kind of funny.
“Are you SURE? I saw him push you and I panicked. Maybe he’s just wounded.”
Thank God Bo didn’t panic more often.
Mom took a deep breath and stepped through the blood. She gently picked up the man’s hand and placed two fingers on his wrist. When she released it, her fingertips were stained red. “Yes. He’s dead.” She made a grand gesture, starting at his head and finishing toward his feet. “That’s what dead people look like. What are we going to do?”
My hands shook, partially from fright and partially because no one would tell me why there was a dead guy in the entryway.
Or why he had the pink slip of paper.
Bo grabbed Mom by the shoulders and held her still. “Claire, we’re going to grab Riley and we’re going to get out of here before more people come looking for this guy. I’ll tell you the plan on the way.”
Mom scoffed at him with wide eyes. “Plan? I don’t need your plan. I’m going to go straight to President Gray about this and he’s going to fix it. He has to.”
A twinge of hope rose inside me, working its way up from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Maybe we wouldn’t have to leave our home after all. Maybe our little visit was just a really complicated, really messy misunderstanding. “Yeah, Mom’s right. I’m sure he’ll fix this. I can’t actually be on the Extraction List, right, Mom?”
“Of course not. There’s no way.”
Mom started toward the door, but Bo stepped in front of her.
“Claire, you saw the paperwork with your own eyes. Gray knows all about this. His signature is there.” He pointed to the guy on the floor. “This guy was going to grab your daughter. We need to go right now.” Bo took Mom by the hand and dragged her out the door.
I hesitated, frozen in the growing pool of red. Sweat broke out on my forehead, and it wasn’t because of the crippling D.C. heat. If I was on the Extraction List, I was supposed to end up like all those other people from my class, the ones who the Taskforce grabbed right from their desks. Those were the ones who disappeared. Since Mom had written the law that the Taskforce was responsible for enforcing, I never thought that I would ever be a target. Politics was all about protecting its stars, and there was no bigger star than my mother.
But that little pink piece of paper could only mean one thing. I forced myself to look down at it. I searched the document, eyes falling on the bottom right corner. It was faded, stretched by the blood into an unnatural shape, but it was there—the President of the United States’ signature.
I grabbed the bag Mom had been trying to pack and zipped it shut. I swung my own bag over my shoulder and followed Mom and Bo out of our house, hoping that I would someday be able to come back. But deep down, I knew we were about to drive away forever.


Best wishes,
Jennifer Labelle