Tuesday Books ~ Jettie Woodruff, Stephanie Witter, Dawn Stanton, & Tess Bowery

Title: Jaq with a Q

Author: Jettie Woodruff

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Release Date: May 3, 2016

Blurb

Subject - Jaq with a Q

* Wrong Number

* Looking for hit-man

* Want's to die

* Lost

* No desire to be found

* Paranoid

* Anxiety

* Released from mental hospital

* Panic attacks

* Nobody would miss her

* In the eye of the beholder

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Excerpt

“Hello, this is Oliver Benson.”

“Um, yes. Hi, I’m Jaq.”

The quiet, shaky voice definitely not matching the guy name caught me off guard. “Jack?”

“Well, yes but with a Q.”

“What can I do for you, Jaq with a Q?”

“I’m not sure if I have the right guy. Ollie Benson, that’s all I really have to go on.”

A brief memory touched my mind of my dad calling me Ollie as a boy. I hadn’t been Ollie in many years. Nonetheless, I asked, “What is it that you need done?”

“I don’t want to get into trouble. How do I know you’re not a cop?”

My head jolted a little with a startled surprise, but I continued, curious of what illegal transaction she was interested in pursuing. “You don’t, but you are wasting my time. Maybe I can point you in the right direction, but first you have to tell me what you’re looking for.”

“Well, I, I, I’m looking for someone to like, like get rid of someone.”

I sputtered hot coffee from my lips, choking on her words. That’s not what I was expecting. Heroine or meth maybe, not that. “You want to hire a hitman? You want to kill someone?”

“Well, no. I want someone to kill me.”

Author Bio

Jettie Woodruff resides in Ohio, but she's not sure why. She hates winter. People say Jettie has her own genre, a mixture of love, sex, family, mystery, comedy, and sometimes taboo. She also has a half a dozen stories started, all waiting to be told. The one that makes it to thirty-thousand first is usually the one that gets published next.

Some of her favorite things are, first and foremost her family, reading, writing, bike riding, hiking, BOOK SIGNINGS, my friends, and life!

"I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I'm out of control, and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.” ~ Marilyn Monroe

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Title: Dex

Series: Kinky Shine #1

Author: Stephanie Witter

Genre: Rockstar Romance/Contemporary

Release Date: May 3, 2016

Blurb

She succeeded in making him feel like a man. A normal functioning man when he hadn’t felt that way in years.

"Who're you f*cking?"

When my father, manager of the worldwide phenomenon Kinky Shine, asked me to come and help the band members appear more approachable I never thought my first meeting with Dex Bowers would start with such a question.
Immediately, I wanted to strangle him, wipe the smirk off his face and force him to mutter more than three words.
But there's something mysterious about him that was electrifying and the more he pushed me away and angered me, the more I wanted to know him and push through his hangups. 

"Trust. That f*cking trust thing didn't come easily to me." 

In the five years since my band became famous, not once had I been photographed with a woman. I knew it fed the supposed mystery surrounding me, but the real truth was far more humiliating than I was comfortable with.
That was until Harley Floyd walked in and I was left with a mind numbing lust for her that scared me shitless. It should be easy to let go and trust her just enough to have fun, to be happy I could finally come up with new material for our next album. But nothing was easy and with a life made of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll I wasn't sure if anything could last. Not even my band.

"What twenty-five year old was f*cking lost when his cock was rock hard when close to a gorgeous woman? One answer to that; a man who hadn’t had sex in a really long time." 
 

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Excerpt

“Harley…’’ There was a fucking warning in her name, but she didn’t budge, didn’t bat an eye. But she did stop breathing for a second and her green eyes darkened again. My whole body shivered at her reaction. I inhaled and I didn’t smell the traffic exhaustion or other smells associated with LA. No, what I smelt was her vanilla perfume.

I pressed harder in the wall, the concrete biting into my back. I clenched my fists and kept my eyes locked with hers. I traced my lower lip with my tongue and her eyes went down to my mouth. My heart tripled in beat and a low growl escaped me. It couldn’t be heard with the bustling noise of the city, but it shocked me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had such a reaction.

When I thought she’d take a step toward me, she took one backward and away from me. Her eyes widened and she blushed. “I guess this time I should be the one leaving,’’ she said in a small voice, her words stumbling into each other's .

“No.’’ What the fuck was I saying?

“What? I mean,’’ she shook her head. “I’m leaving.’’

I grabbed her shoulders and crowded her space before I realized what I was doing. Her scent enveloped me, enticed me. The thin material of her top was soft under my fingers, almost like nothing was separating me from her body. If I took a half step toward her I would feel her perfect breasts against my chest. I clenched my jaw and tried to calm my labored breathing. After a few seconds without moving she tilted her head upward to look at me and I was fucked. I thought I had been before that, but now, now I was lost to the sensations she was awakening in me, sensations I thought were gone.

Her lips, lush and parted called out to me. Her cheeks coloring more and more into a deeper red had me ready to damn myself for this show of innocence. Her eyes, bright and yet getting glassier showed nothing akin to innocence and that made me ready to come in my fucking pants. She was a contradiction and I would have never thought it’d be so tantalizing.

“What are you doing?’’ she whispered and her breath brushed my neck. I closed my eyes, my lips parted on a low moan. Fuck. What was she doing to me?

“Push me away. Now.’’

I kept my eyes closed to better feel the brush of her breathing on my skin. My cock was pushing against my zipper and it was fucking painful. I wanted to squeeze myself and jerk off to find a release, but I couldn’t. We were on a street in broad daylight.

I waited and waited and nothing happened. She kept on breathing irregularly and didn’t push me away.

So I did the only thing I could; I opened my eyes.

Author Bio

Stephanie Witter is a dreamer. She started learning English at three, and fell in love with the language. Always with a book or two close by, she can't spend a day without reading (or writing).

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Title: Waiting for Him
Series: Waiting #3 

Author: Dawn Stanton

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: May 3, 2016

Blurb

Have you ever had a secret that weighed on you so heavily you felt as though you might crumble from the burden of it?

I’ve been lying to all of my loved ones for months now, lying right to their faces. I know at some point the truth will have to come out, but I’m dreading that day with every fiber of my being. I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially Jeff, my fiancé.

My past and present are at war, pushing and pulling me in two different directions and sooner or later I’m going to break. How do I choose between the two men I love?

Garrett, my ex, who disappeared from my life without a trace has now returned. He claims he still loves me and he wants me back.

Jeff, the man I’m engaged to marry built our relationship on lies, but he proves to me every single day how much he loves me.

Are the mistakes of the past too much for me to move on from or can I find a way to forgive one of them?

Maybe it’s time for me to start with a clean slate and just focus on me.

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Excerpt

“What are you so happy about? I just told you what a disaster my life has become and you think it’s funny?” I ask as I poke his rock hard stomach. He catches my hand with his and uses it to tug me forward. I stumble into him awkwardly, landing against his chest. His arms slide around me, resting low on my waist...dangerously low...almost into ass territory low. Both of my palms are flat against his chest and it’s difficult for me to resist the urge to slide them down his stomach and back up under his shirt. His skin would be scorching hot on my hands as I slowly traced his defined abdominal muscles. Stop it. Focus. My eyes raise up to meet his and there’s an answering smirk playing around the right corner of his lips as if he knows I was lost in lust filled thoughts of him.

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Author Bio

Dawn Stanton, author of the Waiting series, makes her home in Massachusetts with her husband and two sons. Dawn's obsession with books began at an early age and although being an author doesn't leave much time for her to read, there's nothing she likes better than to relax on the beach, toes in the sand and a great book on her kindle.

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Book Title: High Contrast (High Contrast) Author: Tess Bowery Genre: New Adult contemporary gay romance (steamy) Release Date: May 3rd, 2016 Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

The deepest scars aren’t the ones that show. Jacob Shain is your average member of Generation Screwed. He has a boring internship, no cash flow, and a tiny NYC apartment he has to share with Ethan, his much-cooler, tattoo-artist twin brother. Not to mention his love life is DOA. At least, until his brother’s shop hires on a new piercer, and Jacob’s humdrum life takes a turn for the weird. Cody Turner is gorgeous, funny and kind—everything Jacob wants in a boyfriend. Except for the way he refuses to talk about his past, or where he lives, or anything about his personal life. When Ethan is arrested while on a mission of mercy, the reason Cody is so tight lipped comes to light. And while Jacob and Cody fight to understand the depth of their feelings for one another, the police dogs catch their scent. So does the local mob. Now Jacob has to make the hardest choice of his life: stay safe like a good boy, or dive headfirst into a world he barely understands…and hope Cody is there to break his fall. Warning: Contains a good boy who wants to be bad, a bad boy who longs to be good, bodies that are canvases for living art and high-speed chases with police dogs.

  “I changed my mind,” Jacob grumped, perching on the edge of the big, green dumpster. Garbage day apparently wasn’t today, which was good, because it meant more chance that the bag they were looking for was still here. But also very bad, in that the rusty hulk of a disposal unit was filled halfway with bulging black garbage bags, plastic shopping bags full of unidentifiable things, cardboard boxes slowly turning to slime, and some kind of liquid that Cody had splashed down in that smelled like a cross between a bog and a year’s worth of stinky diapers. “Ethan isn’t worth this.” The sun was setting, the light low and shadows falling across the back alley to hide their activities. Ethan had been really specific about where he’d ditched the drugs, and there had only been one dumpster in the alley when Cody and Jacob had scaled the fence behind it—Cody easily, lithe and athletic, looking like he’d done this sort of thing lots before. Jacob, managing to get the hem of his T-shirt and the hem of his jeans caught on the top wires simultaneously. Born for a life of crime, he was not. Cody stood, knee-deep in trash, and planted his knuckles on his hips. He tipped his head up and looked at Jacob, the last little bit of evening light deepening the shadows falling across his face. “Come on,” he coaxed. “You take that side, I’ll search this one, and we’ll be done before you know it.” He pulled a couple of pairs of blue latex gloves out of his back pocket and waved them in Jacob’s direction. “You don’t get in within the next minute, you have to do it bare-handed.” “Blackmail,” Jacob grumbled, but he turned around, grabbed on to the edge, metal scraping along his palms and dropped down into the body of the dumpster and out of sight of the road. “Think of it this way,” Cody said, handing him a pair of gloves. “You’re not doing it for Ethan, you’re doing it for Travis. And to keep me employed.” “Oh, well, in that case.” Jacob struggled with the gloves, then watched Cody as he puffed air into them and snapped them over his hands. Latex. That sent his imagination off into places it really did not need to be going while standing knee-deep in a dumpster. Oh no, don’t go there right now. Where to start? Ethan had dropped the bag as he ran across rooftops, he’d said, which meant it should be on the top—unless some of the refuse had been dumped in on top of it after the fact. “There’s something alive in here.” He muttered the Star Wars quote under his breath, kicking aside a box of what used to be cornhusks to reveal a couch cushion with all of its springs sprung and half the fabric shredded. “It’s just your imagination, kid,” Cody replied with Han Solo’s next line in the scene, and yeah. They were on the same wavelength. “As long as the sides don’t start sliding in, we’re doing okay.” Jacob bent over, the cushion easier—psychologically, anyway—to grab with the gloves on, and Cody went quiet behind him. “Oh, come on,” Jacob grunted, the cushion springs wrapped around part of a bicycle frame. “Move!” He pushed it over, then glanced over his shoulder, only to catch Cody in the act of whipping his head away. “What?” Jacob asked, straightening up and trying his best to control the urge to scrub his hands off against his ratty old jeans. They already had holes in the knees and a worn-out patch on the back pocket from where he shoved his wallet, the denim so soft from wear that it almost felt like suede in some places. The last thing they needed was to be eaten away by garbage-juice. “Did you see something?” “No.” Cody shook his head. He scrabbled in his thigh pocket, his ever-present cargos loose against his legs but snugged beautifully tight against his ass. Cody pulled out a little penlight and used the small beam to illuminate the pile of crap closest to him. Were his ears pink again, or was that a trick of the light? “I like the new look, by the way,” he said, and his voice sounded funny, like something was caught in his throat. “What, this stuff?” Jacob looked down at himself again. Ethan’s Clash T-shirt, because it had been on the top of the hamper and was one he wouldn’t scream about if Jacob wrecked it, his ratty old “dirty jobs” jeans and old sneakers. “It’s not quite a spandex super-suit, I know, but—” “Nah,” Cody replied, still looking at the piles of garbage rather than at Jacob, the light playing slowly over one stack, and then another. “It’s good. More relaxed.” “Yeah, that’s me to a T—all calm and Zen.” A laugh burst out from Cody at Jacob’s muttered comment, then a snort, which made the hilarity of the moment really clear. He broke out laughing as well. “Did you just snort?” “Did you seriously just say you were ‘Zen’?” “I do yoga, sometimes. When Andi makes me. I can be Zen.” “I’d pay serious cash money to see that,” Cody snorted again, this time on purpose. “Missed your chance, dude,” Jacob shot back, his mouth running away with him. “I do a mean downward-facing-dog.” Annnnnnnnd train wreck moment. This time, Cody’s flush was obvious, from the tip of his nose all the way down along his neck. “I’ll bet,” he got out, in a kind of strangled choking sound. “Not that I’ve—uh—” He trailed off, then pivoted the ninety degrees to put himself facing Jacob, only about a foot of distance between them in the confines of the metal dumpster. “Not that I’ve spent time thinking about that or anything,” he said. He reached for the back of his neck but caught himself before he rubbed it, flexed his gloved hand and dropped it back to his side instead. “Yeah,” Jacob breathed out. “Me either.” He’d been so good, he really had. Jerking it to thoughts of Cody had been so tempting, God, he had all kinds of mental images to use for fodder there, and he’d felt Cody’s breath up close, knew what he smelled like, and the heat of his skin. And Cody had turned him down, so it would have been so intensely creepy and disrespectful that he hadn’t done it. Not once. This was almost like permission now, this acknowledgement of the vibe between them, except— “Your—uh—yeah,” Cody said nonsensically. Then, “You should definitely wear those jeans more often.” Something squished under Jacob’s foot, and he didn’t dare look down to find out what it was. The smell was beginning to go away, that or he was getting used to it, and that idea was even worse. But Cody was practically standing toe to toe with him, their faces only a few inches apart, and—and? And what next? Cody said something, thank God, and Jacob didn’t have to. “So, uh. Hypothetically speaking. If someone makes a bad call and they want to take it back, but real life doesn’t have save points and I—I mean—someone isn’t sure if the option’s even really open anymore, how long would a guy have to…take it back?” He was pouting, almost, his soft, full low lip jutting out that tiny little bit that made Jacob want to bite it, and suck on it, and lick him everywhere that he could reach. Except maybe after a really long shower with antiseptic soap. Now. Keep cool, keep calm, be the Zen you want to see in the world. Good idea, good mantra, because really what he wanted to do was say “yes, yes, any time, take all the time, I’ll wait a lifetime if I have to”—and that wasn’t exactly an answer to his question. What would Ethan say in this situation? “Depends what kind of bad decision we’re talking about here,” Jacob said. Cody shrugged a shoulder, still searching Jacob’s face for something. “I’m thinking it might be the life-changing kind.” The breath caught tight in Jacob’s chest and he couldn’t get air past the block. Act natural. “I thought you had ‘stuff’ to work out?” A nod from Cody, and he looked away. Dammit! “I—yeah. I still do. But I’m getting really close to shouting ‘fuck it’ at the universe,” he confessed, his back straightening and his head high again. “And I wish I hadn’t turned you down when you asked.” “Same here,” Jacob said, and despite the darkness, despite the smell and the unknown things underfoot, the urgent need to find the evidence and get out, Andi waiting for them in the car three blocks away—Cody was right in front of him and he was the only thing that was important in the world. “I think we can work something out.” I’m going to kiss Cody, and we’re standing in a dumpster, up to our knees in moldy garbage and things I don’t even want to think about, and I’m going to kiss Cody. In a dumpster. Somehow, this is typical.

Tess Bowery lives near the ocean, which sounds lovely, except when it snows. An historian by training and a theater person by passion, she’s parleyed her Masters degree in English history into something that would give her former professors something of a surprise. Her love for the Regency era began as they always do, with Jane Austen, and took a sharp left turn into LBGT biographies and microhistory. Now she indulges in both of her passions, telling the stories of her community in the time periods that fire the human imagination. High Contrast is her first foray into contemporary romance. Along with writing, Tess splits her time between teaching, backstage work, LBGT activism and her family. She spends far too much money on comic books, loves superheroes and ghost stories, and still can’t figure out how to use Twitter properly.

 

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