Cover Reveal – Crave Me by M. Robinson

COVER REVEAL
CRAVE ME
BESTSELLING AUTHOR M.
ROBINSON
COVER MODEL MITCH
MCKERSIE
COVER DESIGN THE FINAL WRAP
RELEASE MAY 10TH
They say in order to find yourself you have to go home.
What if home was what you’re running from?
Where did that leave you?
Always on the other side of the fence.
Always looking in.
Always wishing you were someone you couldn’t be.
Until one day you meet her.
The one.
She was my high, but she was also…
My demise.

 

Colors blended together making it hard to focus on one thing. I blinked a few times and just like that…
I saw her face.
As if she was standing right in front of me.
Smiling.
Happy.
Laughing.
My whole world…
My girl.
I felt my lips curl up slightly at the vision as I reached out for her. Wanting to touch her, needing to hold her, yearning to kiss her. Craving, God, craving to fucking love her.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured out loud to no one but the illusion of my drug-infested mind. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I repeated repentantly, longing for her to believe me.
Aching for her to love me again like she used to.
I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at her beautiful face before my eyes, subconsciously rubbing the tattooed key that was placed over my heart. I couldn’t take it anymore, and the desire won over the haze.
It was too powerful.
It was too vivid.
I grabbed my phone. “Baby,” I said into the speaker. The ringing quickly followed, going straight to voicemail. I hung up and tried again. “Baby,” I
urged with desperation in my tone.
Still nothing.
I tried again and again and again.
I would try until the end of time if that’s what it took for her to answer.
To talk to me.
To save me.
To crave me.
Time just seemed to standstill, as my life slowly played out in front of me. Trying to balance in between the light and the darkness when all I could see was gray.
“What?!” she screamed into the phone, finally answering after I don’t know how many failed attempts. “What the hell do you want now?”
“Mi cielo.” I breathed a sigh of relief.
She ignored my term of endearment. I hadn’t called her that in such a long time.
My heaven.
“What do you want, Austin? Why are you calling me? We’re over! I can’t do this anymore!”  
I shut my eyes and let my mind wonder, allowing it to go to another place in time where she didn’t hate me.
“I remember the first time I made you smile,” I chuckled, as if it had just happened.
My nerves were on fire. The mere sound of her breathing through the phone was too intense for me. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I remember when you used to smile just for me. Do you remember, baby? Do you remember what my love feels like?”
I heard her faintly breathing.
“Do you remember my hands on you? My lips? My tongue? The first time I made you come with my mouth? Do you remember all the times since? Tell me I’m not forgotten. Tell me you remember, baby.”
Silence.
“I love you, Briggs. I love you so fucking much. You’re killing me, don’t you see that? I’m dying without you.”
“No, Austin. You were dying with me,” she rasped, knowing that it killed her to say that.
“The first time I saw your face, I thought to myself, damn, this beautiful girl is goin’ to be the death of me. You were perfect in every way. I was a cocky son of a bitch who needed you then, as much as I need you now.” 
More silence.
“I had a dream about you, baby. I always fucking dream about you. In my dream you had a ring on your finger. A ring I put there. You belonged to me. Only mine.
Forever fucking mine. You were pregnant, Briggs. You looked so goddamn happy. I saw light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in years.”
She sniffled into the phone.
“I made love to you. Slow, just the way you love. Taking my time to touch every last inch of your body. Memorizing every last bit of you. Making you come until you begged me to stop. I didn’t.”
“I can’t—” she tried to interject, but I didn’t let up.
“I kissed your stomach. Our baby. Letting my lips linger there, whispering sweet lullabies, letting her know daddy will always be there. Baby, it was so real.
For a second I gave you the one thing you so desperately wanted, the one thing I can’t give you.”

 

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Bestselling author of The VIP Trilogy, Tempting Bad, Two Sides Gianna, and The Good Ol’ Boys series. M. Robinson loves to read. She favors anything that has angst, romance, triangles,
cheating, love, and of course sex! She has been reading since the Babysitters Club and R.L. Stein. She was born in New Jersey but was raised in Tampa Fl. She is married to an amazing man who she loves to pieces. They have two German Shepherd mixes and a Tabby cat.
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Cover Reveal – #AmWriting – A Collection of Letters

AmWriting Cover PlaceholderKnowing what you know now of writing, publishing, and putting your art out into the world, if you could go back to the day you sat down to start typing in your very first manuscript, what words would you offer to yourself? Words of encouragement? Words of advice? Caution against certain pitfalls? Would you change anything about how you got to where you are today?

The publishing community is so much bigger than it was before the self-publishing boom and it continues to grow exponentially every day. Unfortunately, it doesn’t come with a handbook or support group. The book is to provide words of encouragement or advice to those just starting out or those who have become discouraged in their art. At Pure Textuality PR, we believe in supporting each other as a community, and we felt this project would be a good way to bring writers together and maybe give some new artists just the right nudge to keep going.

100% of the net proceeds of #amwriting will go to benefit The Wayne Foundation, a charity dedicated to offering aid and services to young women victimized by illegal sexual exploitation and the sexual trafficking of minors.

KEEP READING TO SEE THE COVER!

Continue reading Cover Reveal – #AmWriting – A Collection of Letters

Weekend Promo Sales/Freebies

 

Weekend Promo Sales/Freebies
 
Kiss and Tell Box Set – $0.99 countdown deal from 4/15-4/17 in US/UK ONLY!
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Late Night Musings #1

#‎latenightmusings‬

If love were to stare me in the face tomorrow, I’m not sure I’d recognize it. I am broken in more ways then I can count. For years I’ve been searching for a love I’m no longer sure exists or is attainable. I want it all… The late night conversations, curling around one another like different parts of the same whole, and being so ingrained in each other’s hearts that they beat as one. A love strong enough to withstand the sands of time. Is that so much to ask for? Have I sinned to the point of becoming undeserving? I feel sorrow deep within me for things I’ve never really had but miss deeply.

I’ve always felt too deeply. I jump in with both feet and try to kick my way to the surface after but I am drowning. When I should be wallowing in the shallow end I’m neck deep in emotions… emotions I should have shielded myself from feeling. How can one love so deeply yet not understand the basic concept of the word? Jealousy stabs at my soul like a thousand needles. The tiny pinpricks consuming me and making me feel ashamed. I am damaged… sometimes I fear it is beyond repair. Man was not meant to walk this world alone. The one that balances the dark within you roams just as lost as you are without them.

Just once I’d like to feel… something. Anything. But then again feeling anything is what led me to this place of in between I currently reside in now. I just want to be held. Comforted in much the same way as a newborn babe… made to feel warm. Safe. Loved. What have I not learned yet that basic human companionship has been denied me for so long? In what ways have I been lacking? I have so much to give and yet I feel empty. My heart cries out for one that I cannot find… maybe will never find in time. I have tossed myself into the fire many times even though I always get burned. One would think my skin had become thick and impenetrable but still the claws of madness are able to get in.

It’s as if I’m always looking through the glass and my happy is just out of reach on the other side. What I wouldn’t give to touch it… even briefly. Real love is hard to find. The feeling of being lost inside another but yet separate. Sharing everything no matter what. What have I done? And how do I right the wrongs I’ve obviously committed?

Bitter Rapture – FREE prelude short story

BITTER RAPTURE

So the turmoil I’ve been feeling I’ve channeled it somewhat…fans of And So She Waited I present to you this beautiful disaster…please feel free to share and download the PDF file…it’s a prelude short before the events of And So She Waited…just little inner monologues from some of the characters…an inner working if you will…thanks to my baby mama (Lark from Wycked Ink) for the hauntingly perfectly beautiful cover…BITTER RAPTURE!

DISCLAIMER: This is just a little something I did to clear my head…it probably has a few (a lot!) of mistakes but it was just something I wrote and wanted to share with you off the cuff on my blog…If you enjoyed this Bitter Rapture teaser and want to find out what happens to Raven, Remy, and Matthew in And So She Waited (it’s edited I promise!) you can find the links at the end of the short!
Bitter Rapture

Click here to download Bitter Rapture

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Blog Tour + Review – Soft Shatter by Dany Rae Miller

Soft Shatter

Dany Rae Miller

Goodreads

Blurb

One smart witch and three sexy wolves tell a story of love, lies and rejection. All Shavone Gentil wants is to find her runaway sister. When witchcraft fails to provide the answers, she resorts to the last resort — getting a job at the Denver Dollhouse. Shav gets answers, but to questions she didn’t even know to ask. In love and in lust with Shavone since childhood, all Nash LaFontaine wants is her safety, her body and her heart. Responsible and noble, the giant alpha waited so long. Did he wait too long? All Ben LaFontaine wants is to do his duty as a French wolf. He comes to Denver to do just that. His first assignment is to help his cousin Nash protect the witch. Little does he know the power she’ll wield over him. All Enrique Cruz wants, all he’s ever wanted, is Shavone. There’s a night from hell that the Native alpha will never forget, the horrors of which his obsession is just beginning to remember. Who will get they want and whose heart will shatter? Note: Due to strong language and mature content, this Wolven Moon Novel is recommended for adults ONLY.

Purchase Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA

3-red-stars

 Although Soft Shatter has all the elements I love in the books I read, it never fully grasped my attention. Instead of sprinting through it, it was more of a leisurely stroll. In other words I liked. Our female MC is on a mission and she won’t let anyone in her way to achieve said mission. But there are secrets, that not even she knows about but those around her do. She’s the center of attention for three wolves who all want her for themselves. Ms. Miller takes the reader on a journey of twists and turns. With that being said I still would read more works by this author. Personally I saw nothing wrong with the voice, pace, or dynamics of Soft Shatter, it just didn’t come out the gate popping with me. While I enjoyed this read it just never had me in a rush to just finish it right this minute. Instead it was a book that would be read while waiting for a much more anticipated favorite series or author. That being said BRAVO to Ms. Miller for doing what she loves and bringing her unique voice to the world of literature. Lovers of paranormal would do well to add this to their collection.

Excerpt #1 

My hands over Shavone’s, I tighten my hoodie around her. She needs to keep it on — cover that beautiful, tempting ass of hers. I indicate the dart board with a nod. “Are you an ace at that, too?” She shakes her head. “No. I’ve never played darts before.” “Hallelujah.” I throw my head back. “Maybe I can win a portion of my pride back.” I run my hands up her waist and around to her back. “Will you let me teach you?” Yes, kitten, that was an innuendo. I want to teach you a lot of things. The increase in feminine pheromone and blushing smile means she got my drift. Fuck. My dick twitches. I don’t know how much more of her I can take. “Okay,” she’s says, eyes on my mouth. I lick my lips. You want some of this? Dilated eyes say yes just before they glance away. “Sir?” She calls across the bar and once she has the old man’s attention, motions that the pool table is all his. He waves his thanks. Touching her back, I usher her to the dartboard. “I love this song.” She rocks her shoulders. There’s music? I pause to listen. Sade softly sings something about giving the kiss of life. “You like this old shit?” I tease her, pulling the darts from the board. “Hey.” She giggles. “Yes. I like soul — old and new.” She throws out that bottom lip, again. “Don’t make fun of me.” “Never, kitten. You have excellent taste in music.” The broad grin that spreads across her sweet face wraps another string around my heart. And her swaying hips? Those put another quart of blood in my dick. She is something. Beautiful and sweet and sensual. I wonder how she’ll react when she finds out I’m lying to her just as Nash is. And she’ll find out. No doubt. She’s digging in the right place. She’ll be angry. I have no doubt about that either. That we’re doing this to keep her out of the clutches of the hunters won’t make a bit of difference. How strange to feel remorse before the fact. The only chance I’ll have is to get under her skin and fast. “Why the sad look?” She asks me. I affect an exaggerated shocked expression. “You gotta ask, lady who handed me my ass in pool?” “Sorry.” She exaggerates a giggle into her hand. She isn’t sorry at all. “Well, now you can trounce me.” Fuck. Was that a euphemism, kitten? “At darts,” she quickly adds. “I wouldn’t be very gallant, using your word, if I did that.” “No, you wouldn’t.” She gives me her coquettish smile. “You think batting those lashes at me will save you?” I laugh. “A girl can hope.” “You showed no mercy. I show no mercy.” I grin. “That’s the way the game works.” I move behind her, and, with a hand at her hip, begin to murmur the rules into her ear. Jesus. Her scent. I inhale a lung full of it. “This” — I toe a length of tape on the floor — “is the throw line. You cannot step over it when you throw.” “What about my arm?” “Good question.” I playfully squeeze her bicep, again. “Yes, your buffed arm can cross it.” I feel her smile. “I prefer the word ‘toned’.” “Kitten, you are so toned.” I nuzzle her hair. “Now, stop distracting me.” She giggles and I grin. This is fun. She’s fun. The rest of the rules, what there are of them, are fairly simple. I run through them quickly. “Let’s do a few practice throws.” I motion her aside and, when she’s safely out of the way, throw my darts. One lands dead center of the bull’s-eye and the other two in the interior ring, quarter inch from the bull’s-eye. She laughs. “This is going to be bad.” “Aw, c’mon. Positive thinking.” I move out of the way and bow for her to take my place at the line. Lifting her chin, she shakes her hair out of the way and narrows her eyes at the board in concentration. Hot and sexy, smart and sharp. No man can resist that. Sorry, Nash. I glance over at him. His eyes pierce me with an anger he normally saves for enemies and rival packs. Cherie grins at me. Shavone’s first throw lands on the board, but in the number ring. No score. The second lands in the fat single score ring and the third misses the board completely. The music clicks over to a sexy strong drumbeat that Shavone seems to like, too. I walk to the board to extract our darts. Ah, it’s John Mayer. I almost laugh out loud at the lyrics. I’m not the man I used to be either, John. Shavone smiles at me as I walk back to her. Rocking her hips, she sings along to the music. “Not bad.” I hand her her darts. “You’ve got pretty good form for a newbie. Can I show you a better way?” She nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please.” I lay my darts on a nearby table. “Let’s work on your stance, first.” Stop writhing that body, kitten. “Okay.” She stands still. Taking my sweet ass time and with a caressing touch, I position her body — feet there, hips like this, shoulders like that, hands like this. I’m disappointed when I’m done arranging her. She looks up at me through her lashes, a flirty smile on her lips. I stifle a growl. Moving back behind her, I drag my hand down her arm to her hand. “Holding the dart is an art,” I whisper in her ear — trying hard not to imagine her soft hand gripping my dick. “Two fingers forward on the stem, like this.” I manipulate her slender fingers. “And your thumb here near the back of the dart.” Understanding, she nods. Her brow furrowed, she concentrates so hard. “You want to extend your arm, pointing the tip of the dart where you’d like it to stick.” Placing my cheek directly on her temple, my hand over hers, I raise the dart in front of her face. “Stare down the tip and bring the dart straight back in front of your face,” I say. “Don’t hold it here, by your ear. You can’t see where it’s going if it’s beside your head.” I let go of her hand and hold her at the waist. “Do it now, but don’t throw it yet.” While she lines up the dart, I dip my nose into her hair and inhale deeply — not caring if she hears it. My voice is thick when I speak again. “We’ll do a couple of practice movements. Don’t let go of the dart, though.” “Okay,” she says softly. My left hand glides from her hip to ribs while my right hand wraps around hers and the dart. My wolf wants you so bad.

 

Ten Fun Facts about Dany Rae Miller

1.      Aside from The Hubs, no one else close to me (friends, family, coworkers) knows that I write paranormal erotic romance as Dany Rae Miller. Shhhh. 2.      My paternal grandmother was Amish. When she met my grandfather during her Rumspringa, she left her family and community for him. 3.      When I was eight, Highlights magazine published a story I wrote about my grandparents’ love story. It was my first published romance! 4.      Back in ninth grade, my science teacher assigned homework by telling us to “write a ten page paper on dinosaurs.” I raised my hand. “What kind of paper?” I asked. “Any kind you want,” he said. So, I went home and wrote a short sci-fi story about dinosaurs. I got an A, my first A ever in any science class. 5.      I’m a published young adult fantasy/sci-fi author under a different pen name. 6.      In the early 2000s, I won the grand prize in an international screenplay competition with my very first script. 7.      I’m a Joss Whedon groupie. 8.      I fantasize about Whedon reading and liking my work. Do you think he reads erotic romance? 9.      After a concert and before he was famous, I made out with Keith Urban for about ten minutes. A band member pulled him away to get on the bus. 10.  My Hubs kisses way better than Urban.

Excerpt #2 

The sweet scent that I have been looking forward to is not what walks into the Dollhouse. Rage seizes my wolf, his internal roar louder than the music pounding through the lounge. Three young wolves sitting at the bar wisely get up and move away. “Leave, Enrique.” Antonio insists. Shavone’s luxurious essence steeped in French stench. My beast bays a forlorn cry, a true physical agony joining the fury. How is it possible? What happened to the spell? “Enrique,” my brother hisses. “Go.” It’s too late to escape. I feel, and smell, Shavone behind me. “Mr. Cruz.” Steeling my heart and keeping a tight hold on the angry beast, I spin the stool from facing the bar to facing the little witch. She correctly gauges my wrath and steps back. “You’re too early,” I say, careful to control the volume and tone of my voice. “Oh.” She frowns, confused, her eyes dart between mine. “I came in early to do makeup. I assumed I had to be ready to work at four, but I can wait in my car.” “That isn’t necessary,” I growl, attempting to squash the burning jealousy. “Hi, Sara.” Antonio, using her Dollhouse name, draws her attention away from me. “Welcome to your first night.” “Thank you,” she murmurs. Antonio babbles some encouraging words while she nods and converses with him. My wolf identifies the male odor on her skin as belonging to LaFontaine. I’m going rip him to shreds. Never mind that he somehow got around a spell crafted by a powerful family ally. The detective took advantage of his official protector status while my wolf remains sidelined by the Alliance. It boils my wolven blood violently, muscles coil ready to shift. I use every ounce of control I have to contain my beast. You are mine,the wolf bursts into my eyes. Shavone chooses that moment to return her gaze to me. With a sharp inhale, her eyes widen. Antonio bugs his eyes out at me. “Have you ever tended bar?” He attempts to draw her attention back to him, but her gaze is locked on my angry wolf. I force him back, fight to get him into his cage and lock the door. Am I an alpha or an omega? The animal shreds my insides. “Hello?” Antonio waves his hand in front of the witch’s face. Shaking her head and turning it toward my brother, her pink lips part to speak. Before she can, the night shift manager joins us. “Is this our newest doll?” “Yes,” I say. “Tanya, Sara. She’s sharing a dressing room with Paulina who is also her trainer.” Shavone offers a hand to shake. The movement sends more French stink up my nostrils. Hands in fists, I stand. “I have personally selected several costumes for you, Sara. Choose one of them to wear tonight.” It is not a request. “And put on some damn perfume.” “This way, Sara.” Tanya turns. The little witch blinks at me a few times before following the manager across the lounge. No surprise that practically every pair of eyes follows. Shavone in jeans is more enticing than the naked woman writhing on stage. Just as she goes through the curtain, Shavone glances back at me, head tilted, brow creased. “You haven’t been a monk either.” Antonio slings a towel over his shoulder. “What the fuck does that mean?” Restraining the wolf burns my eyes. “Don’t expect a healthy young woman to be a nun.” He puts a glass under the tap and draws a beer. My beast snarls. “Go punch something and cool off.” I flip him off on my way to the door. Outside, the fence behind the Dollhouse takes my wrath. I recall the last time I found Shavone with another — the night I discovered her and Monbeau. The bastard heard my growl, smirked at me, taunted me as he fondled between her legs. “No, Enrique!” Only Agustin tackling me mid-charge prevented me from ripping Monbeau’s dick off at that moment. Uncle had followed me, apparently had done so since the first of my visits to check on my witch. The noise of our scuffle alerted French sentinels. Uncle, with his superior speed and strength, got us out of the canyon before they arrived. Once on our own territory, Uncle cuffed me to a granite wall. “Enrique, the Monbeau clan has an impressive record. They’ve not lost a creole witch in the past 100 years,” he had said. “Because of his heritage, I should let him fuck her?!” I pulled at the chains, altering between human and wolf so quickly my muscles ached as badly as my heart. “Yes. If her well-being is a priority to you. Is it?” The beast in me roared, torn by the damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don’t options. “With him by Shavone’s side day in and day out, you’re assured of her protection. The Alliance chose him for a reason.” “What if she mates with him?” I had gritted out between my teeth as my beast once again twisted my bones. Days later uncle returned with a family friend, a witch. I lay on the ground, naked and limp from shifting uncontrollably. “Help him, Kennedy,” he begged her. She performed a spell relieving my wolf of his jealous agony. As it were, uncle’s faith in Monbeau was well placed. The punk saved her — rescuing her from the fire. I was on the other side of the state, called to Durango by my sister for an emergency that wasn’t as dire as she had made it sound. Had Monbeau not been in Colorado Springs with Shavone, she would have perished, the thought more unbearable than my own death. For that, the French wolf reluctantly earned my gratitude. Nevertheless, upon his death, I went to the Alliance, pleading for the assignment as Shavone’s protector. They refused, bringing LaFontaine back into her life even though the bastard had abandoned her once before. I threatened to challenge him, was on my way to do so. Kennedy convinced me otherwise. She used witchcraft to limit Shavone’s sex drive. “It’s better than a wolf war,” Kennedy had said. “And drawing attention to a Soft witch.” The fence in ruins, I call Kennedy now. “What happened to your spell?” “You’ll have to be more specific, Enrique.” “Shavone let LaFontaine fuck her.” “What?” Kennedy gasps. “I bound your touch as the terminus. Either she discovered the hex and removed it or” — When I interviewed her. “You didn’t tell me I couldn’t touch her.” Kennedy hisses. “In order to have touched her you needed to have been in contact with her. Which, of course, is completely against Alliance orders.” The fault is mine. I did this. I released her libido. Now there is only one remedy. I have to make her mine. “Fuck the Alliance.” I hang up on Kennedy.

Soft Shatter Playlist

The Flaming Lips – Fight Test

Kiss of Life – Sade

I Don’t Trust Myself – John Mayer

Al Green – Tired of Being Alone

Rufus – Tell me something Good

Earth Wind and Fire – Greatest Hits, Sing a Song; Reasons

Corinne Bailey Rae — Trouble Sleeping

Leela James – Music

Kristina Train – Dark Black

Corinne Bailey Rae – Put Your Records On

About Dany Rae Miller

I’m Dany Rae Miller and I believe in the power of love. I believe that love ~ real, unconditional, soulful devotion ~ can change who you are as a person. It can change you from shy to open, wary to trusting, scared to brave, running in circles to holding on to your rock. Young and naive, believing I was in love, I married right out of high school. Three years later, I was a brokenhearted, single mom of a toddler. Fast forward two more years to another sweetheart turned asshole and my faith in love was lost. Done with boys, I built a life for my child and me by myself. It wasn’t easy, but I grew up and learned how to stand on my own two feet. I didn’t need a man, I reasoned, I’ve got my confidence. In my mid twenties, I wanted to up my earning power and decided to go to college, setting my sights on journalism school. It was then, when I wasn’t looking for him, that the love of my life walked into a college speech class and sat down next to me. The right person at the right time changes everything and mends even the most shattered trust. I am living proof. That’s what I try to put into my novels. When I’m at the computer writing, life is golden. It just doesn’t get any better than weaving sometimes euphoric and sometimes gut-wrenching tales of erotic romance. In former lives, I was an advertising rep, then, a property manager. After college, I became a TV producer, and an award-winning screenwriter. Now, I conjure sexy love stories from thin air. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it. I do it from my home in spectacular Colorado (a location featured prominently in my stories) where I live with my wonderful husband and two affectionate kitties.

Contact Dany Rae

Newsletter signup: http://eepurl.com/TnoF5 You’ll want to sign, because starting in February, I’m posting book two in the Wolven Moon series on my website for free. You’ll need a password to access it. www.DanyRaeMiller.com | FB personal profile | FB Author Page | Twitter | Email: DanyRaeMiller@gmail.com

Blog Tour – Heart Grow Fonder

Heart Grow Fonder

Cristy Rey

Adult Romance

Goodreads

Blurb

Wrong place. Wrong time. Right people.

Jessie Bravo knows what’s wrong with her life; she just doesn’t know what to do about it. Eleven years ago, she saved Tyler Cantrell from getting his ass kicked by gay-bashing high school jocks. Since, they’ve been the closest of friends. Years later, Jessie circled the drain of chronic depression, spiraling out of control, and it was Tyler’s turn to save her. Who knew her best friend would become a Hollywood A-lister? Though Jessie credits Tyler for keeping her together, living in the shadow of her best friend’s celebrity isn’t all it’s cut out to be. It’s up to Jessie to figure out what she has to do to be happy: get better or get lost.

Stardom is on the horizon for British television actor Boyd Kerrington. He’s starring opposite Tyler Cantrell in an American feature film sure to blow his career out the water. For all the years he’s focused on his career, however, he’s settled in his personal life. That is, until he meets Tyler’s best friend, Jessie. Jessie is refreshingly cool, passionate, and compelling…but she’s also complicated. Worse yet, she’s not interested in remaining in the celebrity stratosphere, even for her lifelong friend.

Purchase Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

 

 

Excerpt – It was… to meet you.

“What was that?” Tyler said in a hoarse whisper.

Wide-eyed, his face shimmered as if he’d been doused with glitter under a blinding white spotlight. Dumbstruck, Jessie remained staring into the gaping hole of the universe where Boyd Kerrington sat only seconds earlier.

“That was…” Jessie struggled to get out even those two words, and she couldn’t think of another to follow them.

That was Boyd Fucking Kerrington. It was Boyd who’d stopped her world spinning on its axis for a suspended series of seconds that, for all she knew, could have lasted a whole year. She’d acted a brat and he’d thought it funny. When she realized she was embarrassing herself in front of Boyd, she stopped dead in her tracks and swallowed her pride, painfully.

Then their eyes met. She’d looked at him dead in the eyes a million times, but those instances had all been through the television. Sure, those eyes were the same—icy blue like a frozen-over lake in the dead of winter—but they weren’t Astor Welles’s eyes this time; they were something altogether new and different. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than a vacuum of nothingness.

While he looked away, returning to his breakfast, Jessie watched him, for the first time free of the veneer his character. But he avoided her gaze, keeping his attention, instead, on Tyler.

Layers of stage makeup and all the smart hairstyling of Astor Welles peeled away to reveal a real human being with complicated expressions and a wealth of idiosyncrasies. Despite his severe, angular features, Boyd’s manner was approachable, even a little bit sweet. His voice was the same, but the cadence wasn’t. Astor Welles cut through steel with a crisp arrogant timbre as much as with his cheekbones’ daring angles. Boyd Kerrington wasn’t as clipped.

Sensing she was doing nothing to benefit her friend’s morning with him, Jessie excused herself.

“I have some writing to do,” she said, standing and stepping toward the sliding glass door.

Though she expected Boyd would relax a little at her departure, he reared to face her with an unmistakable tinge of remorse. She bit into her lip and reiterated her need to get to work. Boyd nodded shortly, his handsomely sloppy curls lifting in the breeze for a second before settling down again. Tyler said something that sounded like “Good idea,” but that melded with the white noise of Vancouver.

“It was… to meet you.” Red with embarrassment, she tucked into the suite and shuffled into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

With no one watching her, she banged her head against the door. Boyd Kerrington was currently sitting on the balcony of her suite, talking with Tyler over cigarettes and a king’s brunch feast. Rather than join them, Jessie relegated herself to the bed. She curled up beneath the comforter, fully clothed, and stared into the oblivion of her private bathroom.

 

Dreamcast

Meet Jessie

Meet Boyd

Playlist

1.       Miss Misery, Elliot Smith

2.      Brand New Friend, Lloyd Cole and the Commotions

3.      Dear Catastrophe Waitress, Belle & Sebastian

4.      Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t Have)?, Buzzcocks

5.      I Shatter, Magnetic Fields

6.      Can’t Hardly Wait, The Replacements

7.      Cactus, Pixies

8.      Stay Out of Trouble, Kings of Convenience

9.      Never Talking to You Again, Husker Du

10.   A New England, Billy Bragg

11.    International Small Arms Traffic Blues, The Mountain Goats

12.   Screaming at a Wall, Minor Threat

13.   Andy’s Chest, Lou Reed

14.   I Think She’s Starting to Like Me, The Queers

15.   Long-forgotten Fairy Tale, Magnetic Fields

16.   Rudie Can’t Fail, The Clash

Listen via Spotify 

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About Cristy Rey 

Cristy Rey is the author of the romantic urban fantasy Incarnate series. Taking Back Sunday, Trail of Dead, and the prequel novelette, Edge of Seventeen, were released in 2014. The third full-length installment, Wolf Parade, will be released in 2015. She also writes and publishes unconventional romantic women’s fiction. Weeping Angels and her second, Heart Grow Fonder are available now.

Cristy lives in Miami, FL where she is a reader and writer most of the time, and a knitter much less of the time than she was six months before she took up writing again. She writes the books that she likes to read. She describes her writing style as riot grrrl Jane Austen sprinkled with a little magic. There’s always a killer soundtrack running in the background of her novels – all you need to do is turn to the playlist to know what’s up.

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