Friday, June 10, 2016

Tuesday New Releases ~ Karla Sorensen, K.Larsen and Mara White, & Nicole Tone

Title: Dylan
Series: Bachelors of the Ridge #1
Author: Karla Sorensen
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Photographer: K Keeton Designs
 Release Date: June 7, 2016


Dylan Steadman has never seen his stubbornness as a bad thing. It's always been easy for him to make up his mind and stick with it. It's why he works a lot, why he doesn't need to make time for a girlfriend, and why he recently decided to move across the country for a new job. His brothers and sister and happily settled, and now that all eyes have turned on him, he needs a change. He does not need a relationships, and moving to Colorado lets him breathe. What he didn't see coming was Kat, the much-too-young-for-him employee at his new restaurant.

Kat Perry doesn't have a family. She doesn't even really have friends, but that's by her choice. Her new manager, Dylan, has all the things that she should avoid: the muscles, the eyes, the smile, and the kind of white-knight syndrome that she doesn't know what the frick to do with. Dylan should be easy enough to disregard since she's managed to hold people at arm's length her whole life, especially when a relationship is the very last thing she wants

But she can't ignore him, not when he befriends her, and definitely not when they tap into combustible chemistry that threatens to burn down everything around them. So instead of fighting it, they come to an agreement- just friends with a bunch of benefits on the side. Easy, right? Not exactly.

Especially when the heart gets involved.

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When I pulled the front door open, Kat stood framed under the circle of light from the fixture next to the door, her brown eyes wide in her face. Clutched against her chest was a giant—and I meant giant—white, plastic bowl. The top was wrapped in aluminum foil, which crinkled when she shifted her grip.

“I made potato salad,” she blurted out, blinking rapidly at me, but not walking through the door. “I’ve never made it before, and maybe you guys don’t even like it. Not everyone likes mustard, you know. Or potatoes. And we don’t even need to eat it. You know what? I can just leave it in my car.”

She turned to march back to her car, but I snagged her elbow and gently pulled her into the house. “Kat,” I said when she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Thank you. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“It’s probably not.” Her eyes were still firmly trained on the bowl while she set it on the kitchen counter. I swallowed a laugh. Her nerves were like a physical presence separating us from the rest of the group. But there was something so endearing about it, and about the way that she’d obviously dressed up to hang out with us. Her skirt was a blinding orange, cut short and fit tightly around her slim hips. Her tank top was zebra print, and matched the strappy black and white sandals that wrapped up her shins. She must have done her hair too, because the messy strands looked a bit more uniform, held back by a bright pink headband.

“You look very nice,” I said carefully, as I typically made it a habit to not compliment the appearance of women who worked for me. But I couldn’t help it. She looked like a fluorescent highlighter, bright and blindingly fun in the masculine space of Garrett’s house. Her face whipped up to me, a lop-sided smile of gratitude spreading over her face.

“I’ve never been to a guys’ night.” She shrugged, finally looking more at ease. “It was either this or my Broncos jersey and yoga pants. I decided to embrace my role as the lone feminine presence.”

Then she looked around the counter, saw the lack of any real food beyond what she’d brought along. Her face flushed and she blinked away from me again. So I shoved Leonidas at her, and the distraction worked. She cooed and cuddled him, laughing delightedly when he tried to climb up her shoulder to sniff at her headband.

Garrett ambled into the kitchen and ruffled Kat’s hair. “Hey, sprite. How’s it hangin’?”

Kat narrowed her eyes, shifting Leonidas in her arms. “I’m not positive how to answer you. Don’t men ask that question in regards to their penis?”

I choked on the sip of beer I’d just swallowed and Garrett froze, staring down at her with a mixture of horror and amusement. “Yes we do, Kat. And the fact that you just said that out loud means you are welcome at guys’ night for the rest of your life.”

Also Available

#1 By Your Side (features Dylan's sister Casey)

#2 Light Me Up (features Dylan's brother Tate)
99c SALE


#3 Tell Them Lies
99c SALE

Author Bio

Well, let’s see ... I’m a wife and a mother. I’m a writer who wants to make people smile when they read my words. I own a dog that sheds roughly eighteen pounds of hair every day. I am obsessed with Outlander (both the books and the show). I’m almost exclusively a romance reader, which means some people will never consider me a literary snob. If I could meet one historical figure, it would be Jane Austen. I received my Bachelors in Public Relations and worked in health care marketing before I had my babies. I hate Twitter. I do it, but I hate it. Also, if you want to get on my good side, bring me wine and I'll love you forever.

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KILLING THE SUN is a collaborative novel by K. Larsen and Mara White.
KTS is not a ROMANCE
This book features a non-linear time line, some violence as well as graphic sex.
Do not read this book if you don’t like antiheroes.
Do not read this book if sexual sadism makes you uncomfortable.
Do not read this book if you don’t like dubious consent.
Do not read this book if you are looking for a traditional HEA.
Do not read this book if you like demure heroines and swashbuckling heroes.
KTS is a serial novel that will come in three novellas released in rapid succession.
If you choose to take this ride, please do so at your own risk.

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In Chickasaw County, Oklahoma, there is a manmade lake. There used to be a small, natural lake there filled with bass, crappie and bream. My grandfather would fish in those waters, wearing thigh-high waders alongside the tall wading birds poking around for fish eggs. It was rumored that the waters had healing powers, that the native people drank from the natural springs to heal ailments and to purify the spirit.
As kids we swam there, even as the township enlarged the lake and pushed hard to attract campers and speed boaters, jet skiers and anglers, anything other than us local kids learning to do underwater handstands and doggy paddle. I was an okay swimmer, I guess, at least before I developed breasts, but Storm and Farren were champions, the very best. They were the strongest swimmers in the school district, and nobody could keep up with them.
After the age of ten, I only entered the water in shorts and a T-shirt, no matter how hot the summer sun, no matter how few people were swimming or roaming the shore. I used to think I stopped wearing a bathing suit because I’d gotten my period or because my breasts were bigger than any other ten-year-old west of the Mississippi. Sometimes I speculated it was because of the murder, that stripping down in front of strangers, letting them really see me, had become nothing short of unbearable. I hated to be vulnerable.
After they found the Dodge Dart, I realized that maybe it was just my subconscious calling to me. Avoid the lake, it’s a watery grave, a family crypt that is too saturated with history.
It was the summer after I graduated high school that they found the Dart. Eight years were enough for the scandal to settle, even in a town like Sulphur; they’d put it to rest, especially after the murder/suicide on the campground out by the highway. Just some other drunk and homicidal idiots, but at least not from my family. The gossip had gotten quieter and quieter until it was barely more than a whisper from the grocery cart behind me in line at the store or the big-eared teenager handing out rental shoes at the bowling alley. I could see it in their eyes, but at least strangers had stopped asking. They’d stopped talking behind my back and, most importantly, stopped staring. Until that one hot July when they’d dredged both lakes, Veteran’s and Arbuckle, using up city money to elevate the dams and make improvements for tourism.
I was in the trailer swatting flies and leafing through a Sears catalogue when Stacey Dobson rapped on the screen door, yelling, “Aimeee!” and got me tripping over chairs on my way to the door, convinced that a tornado must be tearing through.
“They found your dad’s car! At the bottom of the lake!”
Her cheeks were flushed pink from running in the stagnant heat, and circles of darker purple stained the armpits of her jumper.
“What?” I asked. I remembered standing in the doorframe. I thought about his body on the floor, how his skin felt like wet plastic wrap over raw liver after all signs of life had left him. The look of death in his eyes was really the most sober I could remember ever seeing him.
“The car was at the bottom of the lake! They drained it to widen the lakebed and there it was, sitting out in the middle.”
“Was it empty?” I asked her, my eyes narrowing to take her in. She was nearsighted, the Dobson girl, and in all remedial classes at the high school. She was a few years older than me. As children we’d been amicable in a freeze tag, king of the mountain, Barbie-sharing sort of way, but after my dad died, I looked at everyone suspiciously, wondering what they could want from me. I would have no friends in this place.
Stacey looked desperate and disheveled, sweat along her hairline, pinpoints of red starting to appear on her face.
“Don’t know, they just brought in a tow truck to pull it out. You can only see the top of it.”
“How do you know it’s my dad’s car?” The words felt sharp as they exited my mouth, like they had tines and were looking to plunge into any soft surface. Stacey’s chubby cheeks, the soft round of her gut. It had been a long time since I’d said my dad, words I typically avoided at all costs.
“Divers,” Stacey said. Her eyes lit up like streetlights through a dismal fog. The lack of news in this town turned everyone into vultures for tragedy.
“Let’s go,” I said. I jammed my keys in my pocket and threw my yellow and green windbreaker over my shoulder. Grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter my mom had left on the counter, I switched off the light and promised myself that I wouldn’t stick around this damned town only to witness my own downfall. Damned if I’d let them all stand around defaming and slandering my family with not a one of us to hold them accountable for their local poison—a bitter mouthful of gossip. Show them that an Olsen, at least this Olsen, didn’t have mercy for anyone dumb enough to cross her.

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K. Larsen

I am an avid reader, coffee drinker, and chocolate eater who loves writing. I received my B.A. from Simmons College-a while ago. I currently live with my daughter in Maine.

I'm working on my sixth novel out later this year. I've published Tug Of War, Objective, Resistance, Saving Caroline, 30 Days, Committed and Dating Delaney. Enjoy!
I love hearing from you so please feel free to contact me!
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Mara White
Mara White is a contemporary romance and erotica writer who laces forbidden love stories with hard issues, such as race, gender and inequality. She holds an Ivy League degree but has also worked in more strip clubs than even she can remember. She is not a former Mexican telenovela star contrary to what the tabloids might say, but she is a former ballerina and will always remain one in her heart. She lives in NYC with her husband and two children and yes, when she’s not writing you can find her on the playground.

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Without Benefits RDL Ban 
Without Benefits cover   

About Without Benefits: Emma will always be a New Yorker at heart, even though she has a perfect life in Seattle. She has a prestigious job fundraising for the Seattle Symphony, a handsome boyfriend who adores her, and a Belltown apartment with views of the Sound. It should be more than enough to keep her pain from not playing the piano, and her 9/11 nightmares, away. But when her old college crush, Owen, comes back into her life, it’s more than just spending time with him that’s causing cracks in her picture-perfect life. As she steps back on stage, and back into the spotlight, her connection with Owen and his world, dredges up old memories that Emma worked hard to forget. Emma’s past comes back to haunt her, forcing her to face the truth about more than just her fears of returning back to New York. As her once perfect life begins to burn down, Emma is forced to figure out what she really wants: her fundraiser and cocktail party-filled life with her boyfriend, or forging a new future with the one thing, and one person, she’s ever loved–even if it means returning to New York.   Amazon BN   

Exclusive Excerpt:   The piece of sheet music had sat untouched for a decade, tucked away in other sheet music, left at the bottom of a box. It was poor timing, finding it now. Really poor. Emma’s friends would say it was fate. Her mom and sister would say that she should sort through her things more often. Emma had to agree with her family on this one. Her thirtieth birthday coming and going sparked a nesting spree of sorts. This had to be the only reason behind finding it. Starting in the front room of their apartment and working her way back, she went through everything: cleaned off bookshelves, cleaned out closets, dusted, touched up, changed out artwork. There were some things—like the pile of sheet music that now sat on her kitchen table, the piece of sheet music that she couldn’t stop staring at—she wasn’t sure she’d be able to part with. This binder of hand-written music, work, the e-mail, and the wedding coming up—she just couldn’t escape Owen any longer. The longer time went on, the harder it was getting. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? It should’ve been easier by now. But it wasn’t, and that’s why she had an e-mail drafted. Well, sort of—it was blank still, but at least it was open. “I don’t even know what to say to you,” Emma said out loud, reading over Owen’s latest e-mail. It had landed in her mailbox a week ago with an invitation to dinner and she still hadn’t given him an answer. She closed doors on everything in her past, always. She’d left New York, and the empty spaces in the skyline, and didn’t look back. She couldn’t—it hurt too much. Emma never spoke to ex-boyfriends after the relationship expired. But Owen wasn’t an ex. Maybe it was best to rip the Band-Aid off now, privately, instead of in front of at the engagement party in front of all of their college friends. She typed up a quick, one line response: Dinner tonight? Hitting send, excitement and guilt crushed her. She hadn’t even considered her boyfriend and his feelings into the equation.     

Nicole ToneAbout the Author: Nicole Tone is a freelance editor, MFA student, traveller, pet collector, binge-watcher, and a self-proclaimed coffee snob. She lives in Buffalo, NY with her husband, three cats, and two very large dogs. She cheats on Buffalo with Seattle as often as she can.   Social Media Links:   Enter Nicole’s Giveaway: a Rafflecopter giveaway

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