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Book Title: Love Always Series
Author: Jacinta Howard
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
He looked at her pointedly, his voice dropping. “I’m not even sure how to be just friends with you anymore.”
She stared at him, her entire body held captive by the look he was giving her. Heat began to slowly spread through her and she pushed out a breath, willing herself to calm down.
“Maybe we should try though, Brian,” she said, her voice shaky. She was starting to panic again. “Maybe we should try to ignore whatever is going on. Maybe it’s temporary, or you know… with you moving here and us not having seen each other for a while... maybe we should try to ignore these feelings…”
“You think what I feel for you is temporary? You think I would risk…” he stopped, and pushed out a breath, meeting her eyes. “Do you really think that after what happened the other day we could go back to being just friends?”
His voice was husky and the blatant hunger in his eyes was disconcerting as his gaze swept slowly over her, from her eyes, down the sweep of her neck to the curve of her breasts, to her thighs, which her little cotton shorts did nothing to hide. Her breathing increased and desire stirred in her stomach.
“Maybe,” she managed, breathily.
“Do you really want to?” he asked, gently fingering a loose strand of her hair that had escaped the ponytail that was hanging at her nape. His fingers brushed lightly against her cheek and her skin tingled beneath his touch. She sucked in a breath.
“I think it’d be easier,” she whispered, as he trailed his fingers lightly down the side of her cheek to the curve of her neck.
“You sure?” he asked again, his baritone deep and low as he studied her with hooded eyes.
She managed to nod again. He ran his fingers down her arm, barely touching her but igniting her skin. He rested his hand on her bare knee. Her breath was coming fast now.
“You think ignoring this would be… easy?” he murmured, as his hand inched slowly up her leg.
She bit her lip, her attention focused on where his thumb was teasing her skin, drawing slow circles on her inner thigh.
“Yes… I…” She closed her eyes when his hand moved up a bit further. A couple more inches and he would be tracing his thumb over her panty line. She opened her eyes and he was watching her response to him, his own breathing increased.
“You what, Destiny?” he asked, his tone dark and teasing.
His hand trailed further up. She sucked in a breath and met his eyes.
“I can’t really think very well when you do that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
A half-grin played on his face and he ran his thumb over her soft skin again.
“Why do think that is, Destiny? Because we’re such good friends?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and she couldn’t say anything, so she just shook her head.
“I’m not gonna push you,” he said deeply, forcing her to meet his eyes. He slid his hand back to her knee and she almost protested. “But I think you know what’s going on between us isn’t temporary. It sure as hell isn’t friendly. And it’s not going away.”
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Title: Ugly
Author: Margaret McHeyzer
Genre: YA/NA
Release Date: October 26, 2015
Blurb
If I were dead, I wouldn't be able to see.
If I were dead, I wouldn't be able to feel.
If I were dead, he'd never raise his hand to me again.
If I were dead, his words wouldn't cut as deep as they do.
If I were dead, I'd be beautiful and I wouldn't be so...ugly.
I'm not dead...but I wish I was.
I'm not dead...but I wish I was.
Purchase Links
$2.99 for a limited time only
Price will change to $3.99 soon after release
Trailer
Prologue
It’s days like today I wish I was dead.
“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.
He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.
And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.
“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.
As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.
“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.
I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.
“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”
My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.
School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.
It was never like this before. Ever.
I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.
Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.
Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.
Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.
I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.
I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.
Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left...forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.
Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.
I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.
I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.
He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But ‘please’ never seems to work.
Nothing does.
“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.
He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.
And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.
“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.
As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.
“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.
I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.
“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”
My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.
School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.
It was never like this before. Ever.
I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.
Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.
Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.
Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.
I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.
I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.
Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left...forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.
Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.
I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.
I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.
He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But ‘please’ never seems to work.
Nothing does.
I’ve just got to take the beatings, because that’s what stupid, ugly girls do.
Author Bio
Possibly it's the fact there are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and they can create something so beautiful or so empowering they're capable to change our lives.
How important is it that we break suit and stretch our minds?
I like to think of myself as 'unique'. My stories aren't for everyone, and sometimes I may push what you believe to be 'normal'.
Normal is subjective.
I prefer to be known as a person who's never been 'bound by custom' but is 'unique by choice'.
I hope you do read and enjoy my stories.
Author Links
Title: The Missing One
Series: Lost #2
Author: Liz Lovelock
Genre: New Adult/Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 20, 2015
Blurb
Everything in Melodi White’s life is finally perfect. She has an amazing man by her side, she’s made lifelong friends and she’s starting to live the life she and her twin sister Abby dreamed of. But things don’t stay perfect for long.
Melodi lives constantly haunted by the past of her sister Abbi and her ex-boyfriend Jacob. Can Melodi and Corban move forward with their relationship when someone she never expected to see again returns, and throws them on to an emotional rollercoaster?
With so much turmoil surrounding them, will their love be strong enough to endure when disaster strikes and Melodi is put in harms way? Will she survive or will Melodi become the missing one?
Purchase Links
Also Available
Author Bio
Liz is from bright, sunny, Queensland in Australia.
She is a mother of three little monsters, a wife to an amazing husband and an avid reader.
Liz always loved books from a very young age, and just keeps falling in love with new authors every week.
In high school her passion grew when she was given Tomorrow When The War Began by John Marsden for an assignment, from that she continued to find new gems.
Liz always has a book and notebook beside her bed for when inspiration hits at those crazy hours. She is a stationery and chocolate addict and has a one-click addition.
Liz has heaps of new book ideas for the future and looks forward to sharing those ideas with you, her readers.
She is a mother of three little monsters, a wife to an amazing husband and an avid reader.
Liz always loved books from a very young age, and just keeps falling in love with new authors every week.
In high school her passion grew when she was given Tomorrow When The War Began by John Marsden for an assignment, from that she continued to find new gems.
Liz always has a book and notebook beside her bed for when inspiration hits at those crazy hours. She is a stationery and chocolate addict and has a one-click addition.
Liz has heaps of new book ideas for the future and looks forward to sharing those ideas with you, her readers.
Author Links
Giveaway
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