The Extra Shot – July 29, 2018 with USA Today Bestselling Author Avery Flynn

The Extra Shot – July 29, 2018 with USA Today Bestselling Author Avery Flynn

Welcome to The Extra Shot where you’ll find EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future or just want to share a peek.  

Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits. 

Today you’ll find an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Seductive Surrender by USA Today Bestselling Author Avery Flynn to jump start your week! This book releases tomorrow, July 30th  so one-click your copy now and get ready for a great new book adventure in a few short hours! 

To set this up, Gina Luca and Ford Hartigan are at a wedding and there is a Kiss Cam and an open bar…yes, you read that right.

“I’m not kissing you.”

Unlike Gina, while the wedding guests continued to call for a kiss, he didn’t bother to hide his scowl. Of course, that just made him look even sexier. “Why not?”

Reasons! She clamped her mouth shut before that inanity escaped and called it a victory. Knowing the right thing to say at the right time had never been one of her gifts, so the fact that she managed to keep her trap shut was a total win. When he raised one dark eyebrow in question, she scrambled to come up with something besides because you’re too hot.
“I’m working,” she said.

Ford cocked his head and gave her some premium cop face, that blank suspicious stare that all but screamed you’re full of s%^t. “You don’t think our fine groom, Porter, was on shift when he met Meg at the emergency room after a guy he was arresting took a swing at him with a two-by-four? It’s just a kiss, and then they’ll move on to the next victim.”

She turned her attention back to the big screen display of this horribly awkward moment rather than meeting Ford’s unwavering gaze.

“Do not disrespect the Kiss Cam, Hartigan!” someone bellowed out as the chanting crowd grew more restless. And louder.

“One quick kiss,” he said, his tone grim with a thread of something more vulnerable underneath. “Then, they’ll leave us alone.”

Avery Flynn: USA Today bestselling romance author Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She fell in love with romance while reading Johanna Lindsey’s Mallory books. It wasn’t long before Avery had read through all the romance offerings at her local library. Needing a romance fix, she turned to Harlequin’s four books a month home delivery service to ease the withdrawal symptoms. That worked for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the local book stores’ staffs knew her by name.

Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

 
Books I Love A Latte is offering ONE lucky reader a signed print copy of Dodging Temptation. 
*Open to US/Canada readers only. 
For a chance to win comment on this post with the answer to the following question:

What is your favorite movie or tv show first kiss between and which characters?
Contest runs 7/29/18 – 8/06/18
Winner will be posted on 8/06/18
**
  • By entering the giveaway, you’re confirming that you are at least 18 years old.
  • Winners will be selected by random number. No purchase necessary to win.  The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning.
  • If you win, you must respond to my email within 24 hours or another winner may be chosen. Please make sure that your spam filter allows email from Books I Love A Latte.
  • Winners may be announced on the blog following the contest. By entering the contest you are agreeing to allow your name to be posted and promoted as the contest winner by Books I Love A Latte.
  • Prizes will be distributed following the giveaway either by Books I Love A Latte or the person/organization donating the prize.
  • By entering you are agreeing to hold Books I Love A Latte harmless if the prize or giveaway in some way negatively impacts the winner.
  • Readers may only enter once for each contest.  Duplicate entries for the same giveaway will be ignored. In the event of technical problems with the blog during the contest, every effort will be made to extend the contest deadline to allow for additional entries.
  • Void where prohibited by law.

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The Extra Shot July 15, 2018 – USA Today Bestselling Author Collette Cameron and Bestselling Author Shana Galen

Welcome to The Extra Shot where you’ll find EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future or just want to share a peek.  

Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits. 

Today you’ll find an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Seductive Surrender by USA Today Bestselling Author Collette Cameron and An Affair with a Spare by Bestselling Author Shana Galen to jump start your weekend along with a fabulous giveaway too! This book released in May  so one-click your copy now and get ready for a great new book adventure! 

Sluggishly clawing his way to alertness from the dense fug shrouding his wooly mind, Dugall swallowed against a guttural moan. He lifted his neck an inch and double-sided jagged swords speared his head and ribs.
Faugh!
A rhythmic, bone-jarring rocking had bile rising high and burning the back of his throat. His stomach growled and roiled as much from hunger as the eye-crossing, thundering ache hammering his skull.
Not dead then, but probably concussed.
How badly?
He took a quick mental inventory.
I’m Dugall Kester Hugh Ferguson of Craiglocky Keep.
I’m four-and-twenty years old, and the youngest child of Hugh and Giselle Ferguson.
My brother is Laird Ewan McTavish, and I’m his solicitor and steward.
And—
Bloody damned maggoty hell . . .
He’d been robbed on his way to Edinburgh.
Stupid as turnips, thieves.
Did they really think he’d carry Craiglocky’s monthly receipts on his person? All they’d absconded with was a pocket watch, his dirk, and a few bank notes.
And he knew at least one of their names.
Bowie.
With Ewan’s vast connections, they’d almost certainly be apprehended and count themselves lucky if only deported to Australia.
He’d bet his beloved stallion, Bran, he’d broken a knuckle or two—likely all—fighting off the three ambushing scunners last night.
Had they only used fists, Dugall might’ve prevailed, but they’d carried clubs and daggers, too. He’d readily dispatched one, but a blow to the back of his head ended his fight.
He dared to slit one swollen lid open and tentatively stretched his legs, seeking other injuries.
What the h—?
Eyes flying open, he jerked upright. At the abrupt movement, discordant agony speared his pounding skull again with the ferociousness of a battering ram.
Holy God in heaven.
Clutching his head lest it topple from his neck, he gulped against a crushing wave of nausea and blinked away the gray closing in, dusty black specks flitting before his eyes.
I willna pass out again.
Inhaling a restorative breath, he shut his eyes until the dervish in his head stopped spinning. His movements tentative and controlled, he again assessed his situation.
Stout rope secured his ankles and wrists, and he lay stuffed into the corner of a wagon loaded with several chests, boxes, burlap bags, and oddly shaped cloth-wrapped bundles. What looked like a carriage lap robe covered him from waist to calves.
Given his missing neckcloth, the robe and the padding behind him, someone had attempted to make him somewhat comfortable as the wagon bumped along, threatening to dislodge his head from his shoulder with each new divot in the road.
He lifted his bound hands and, jaw braced, gingerly touched his forehead. Encountering a bandage, he frowned.
Ach, his cravat.
The last thing he remembered after regaining consciousness and staggering from the forest was a coach and four barreling down on him.
Then nothing—until now.
He licked parched lips and closed his eyes for a long blink, willing the tormenting, brain piercing, thundering in his head to ease a jot.
God, what he wouldn’t give for a drink of water. Or better yet, a tot or two of Ewan’s superb whisky.
A sudden vision of coppery red hair framing a creamy, perfectly oval face from which glinted two turbulent bottle-green, umber lashed eyes, clambered to the forefront of his mind.
Ach, the ravishing ginger-haired angel.
He skewed his lips into a tiny arc—as much as he dared given his pummeled face.
No, angels abided in heaven, and haloes of shimmering red hair didn’t frame their faces.
Did they?
But she’d been far too bonny to be a deamhan.
He’d dreamed he’d gone to hell, and that exquisite face had floated over him.
He could still smell her sweet, fresh essence. Oranges and vanilla and flowers. Could see the smattering of coppery freckles on her perfect little upturned, rather saucy nose, and her peach-tinted rosebud mouth bent compassionately. The flecks of gold simmering in her arresting eyes lit a receptive, spine-jolting spark deep in his chest.
Despite his sorry state, his c&*k pulsed.
A familiar snort sounded near his ear.
Och. Thank God. Bran.
He’d feared for his equestrian friend.
Dugall’s relieved grin promptly transformed into a grimace as agony speared his face once more. He sucked in a raggedy breath. Devil take it. He might have to add a broken jaw and nose to his list of injuries.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good. You’ve had us all quite worried.”
Riding Bran, the red-haired vision patted the stallion’s withers. Head slightly cocked—the black feather in her quaint impractical hat perched at a jaunty angle atop her glorious mass of red curls—she regarded him, her vivid green-eyed gaze curious but wary.
She possessed an unusual accent; like nothing he’d ever heard before. Soothing and lyrical, soft around the edges, and the slightest bit annoying in the manner it lengthened all of her words.
Like cold heather honey dripping from a spoon, sweet and syrupy, yet maddeningly unhurried.
“Your horse is magnificent. Truly one of the grandest I’ve ever seen, and my grandpapa raised Thoroughbreds.”
Astonishment fueling him, Dugall summoned the strength to sit up straighter. Teeth clamped against the razing torture the movement caused, he raked his gaze over her shapely form.


AUTHOR BIO:A USA Today bestselling, award-winning author, Collette pens Scottish and Regency historicals, featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intelligent, intrepid damsels who reform them. You’ll always find dogs, birds, occasionally naughty humor, and a dash of inspiration in her sweet-to-spicy timeless romances.A member of Novelist Inc., Romance Writers of America, as well as several RWA chapters including The Beau Monde, Hearts Through History and Rose City Romance Writers, Collette admits to a quirky sense of humor, enjoys trivia and inspiring quotes, adores castles and anything cobalt blue, and is a self-confessed Cadbury chocoholic.Her motto for life? You can’t have too much chocolate, too many hugs, too many flowers, or too many books. She’s thinking about adding shoes to that list.Connect with ColletteGet a free book! Subscribe to my Regency Rose Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/theregencyrose

Website: http://collettecameron.com

Blog: https://collettecameron.com/blue-rose-romance-blog/

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In this excerpt from An Affair With a Spare, Rafe Beaumont, youngest son of an earl and former member of a special troop of British soldiers receives an unexpected assignment from his former commanding officer.

“I have an assignment for you.”

A sensation much like a mild bolt of lightning flashed through Rafe. “For me?”

“Yes.”

Rafe could not believe his good fortune. Finally! His chance. “But the war is over.”

“There are still dangerous people about, and the Foreign Office asked if I knew anyone who could take this assignment.”

“And you thought of me?” Rafe cleared his throat. “I mean to say, of course I came to mind directly.”

“Yes.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Yes.”

Rafe blinked. He hadn’t been expecting Draven to answer in the affirmative. Neil had rarely given him dangerous assignments during the war. Although Rafe had argued once or twice that slipping in and out of the bedchamber of one of Napoleon’s men, persuading his wife or mistress to reveal secrets, and slipping back out again without being caught was not without peril, it was not quite the same thing as running across a field while cannonballs exploded around you.

“Good.” Rafe clapped his hands together. “I have been wanting something to do besides chasing after women and attending social outings. What is it you need me to do?”

Draven smiled. “Attend social events and chase after a woman.”

Rafe sighed and sat back again. “And if I refuse to accept the assignment?”

“I don’t recall asking for your acceptance.”

“You’re no longer my commanding officer.”

Draven crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you like me to change that?”

“No.” Rafe knew as well as anyone Draven had connections in the highest spheres. One word to the Regent and Rafe might be back in uniform patrolling the Canadian frontier. “Tell me about my new assignment.”

Draven sat back. “Her name is Collette Fortier.”

“Fortier? Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Because her father was one of Napoleon’s most successful assassins.”

“And? If I remember correctly, Fortier is dead.”

“Yes.” The hackney slowed and Draven peered out the window. “I want you to find out more about his daughter.”

“How am I to do that?”

“We believe Collette Fortier is in London. We further believe she may be calling herself Collette Fournay and claiming to be a cousin of Lady Ravensgate.”

“Suspected French sympathizer and dear friend of Marie Antoinette’s daughter.”

“You are acquainted with Lady Ravensgate?”

“Not personally, but I’ve heard rumors. Is Lady Ravensgate taking Mademoiselle Fortier out in public?”

“I danced with the woman in question not a quarter hour ago, a woman Lady Ravensgate introduced as her cousin, a Miss Fournay. Your mission is to ascertain whether Miss Fournay is, in actuality, Collette Fortier, and if it is she, what she is doing in London. If she’s spying—and I think from my encounter this evening that there is a very good chance of that—discover what information she hopes to unearth and determine what she knows already.”

“And then?”

“And then you kill her.”

On sale now!

He’s turned seduction into an art form…
Rafe Beaumont, fifth son of an earl, uses his irresistible charm with the ladies to glean dangerous war secrets. Now he’s putting those skills to the ultimate test: capturing an elusive assassin by seducing his daughter. The problem? She’s entirely immune to Rafe’s flattery.

Never before has Collette Fortier met a man as attractive as Rafe. But her father’s life is at stake, and succumbing to Rafe would be disastrous. But when Rafe turns the tables on her, offering support and friendship instead of a fleeting affair, Collette finds herself tempted in ways she never could have imagined…

Amazon ~

Nook: http://bit.ly/2G14Neb

iBooks: https://apple.co/2EeEsZi

Google: http://bit.ly/2Evnmtu

Author Bio:

Shana Galen is a three-time Rita award nominee and the bestselling author of passionate Regency romps, including the RT Reviewers’ Choice The Making of a Gentleman. Kirkus says of her books, “The road to happily-ever-after is intense, conflicted, suspenseful and fun,” and RT Bookreviews calls her books “lighthearted yet poignant, humorous yet touching.” She taught English at the middle and high school level off and on for eleven years. Most of those years were spent working in Houston’s inner city. Now she writes full time. She’s happily married and has a daughter who is most definitely a romance heroine in the making.

Links:

Website: shanagalen.com

Facebook: www.Facebook.com/ShanaGalen

Twitter: @shanagalen

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/shanagalen/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/93709.Shana_Galen

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shanagalen/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/shana-galen

 

Shana is offering ONE lucky reader a print or digital (winner’s choice) of the first two books in the series, Third Son’s a Charm and No Earl’s Allowed
*Open internationally. 

**Must be able to read digital copies on Kindle, Nook, Google Play, or iBooks.

For a chance to win comment on this post with the answer to the following question: What is Rafe’s new assignment in An Affair with a Spare?
Contest runs 7/15/18 – 7/21/18
Winner will be posted on 7/22/18
**
  • By entering the giveaway, you’re confirming that you are at least 18 years old.
  • Winners will be selected by random number. No purchase necessary to win.  The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning.
  • If you win, you must respond to my email within 24 hours or another winner may be chosen. Please make sure that your spam filter allows email from Books I Love A Latte.
  • Winners may be announced on the blog following the contest. By entering the contest you are agreeing to allow your name to be posted and promoted as the contest winner by Books I Love A Latte.
  • Prizes will be distributed following the giveaway either by Books I Love A Latte or the person/organization donating the prize.
  • By entering you are agreeing to hold Books I Love A Latte harmless if the prize or giveaway in some way negatively impacts the winner.
  • Readers may only enter once for each contest.  Duplicate entries for the same giveaway will be ignored. In the event of technical problems with the blog during the contest, every effort will be made to extend the contest deadline to allow for additional entries.
  • Void where prohibited by law.

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The Extra Shot – June 22, 2018

The Extra Shot – June 22, 2018

Welcome to The Extra Shot where you’ll find EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future or just want to share a peek.  

Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits. 

Today you’ll find an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from The Distiller’s Darling by Rebecca Norinne and Jamaila Brinkley to jump start your weekend along with a fabulous giveaway too! This book released yesterday so one-click your copy now and get ready for a great new book adventure! 

Be sure to stop by the blog later today for my review of The Distiller’s Darling, you don’t want to miss latest installment in the River Hill series! If you read The Vintner’s Vixen you will recognize a few familiar characters. If you haven’t read The Vintner’s Vixen this book can be read as a standalone but I’m sure you’ll want to start from the beginning. Click here to get your copy of The Vintner’s Vixen, and then enter the fabulous giveaway below!

“What brings you here?”

Her mother examined her surroundings. “Do you have a place to sit down?”

Naomi sighed. “Come on in. The living room is this way.” The dining room had been converted to her office, but she’d furnished the cozy living room with a comfortable couch and a chair or two. She mostly used the space for watching ridiculous movies when she was feeling burnt out. Although she and Iain had done a few other things in there several days ago. Probably not something she should be thinking about as she watched her mother sit carefully down in the exact spot Iain had—never mind.

“So? You’re sitting. In my house. Which you’ve never visited before, let alone showed up unannounced to. Why are you here, Mom?”

“Oh, it isn’t just me, dear.” Her mother smiled at her beatifically. “Your father’s here, too. He’s just taking a little nap. You know how travel tires him.”

“You live less than two hours from here.”

“Yes, of course. It was certainly a drive. There were many interesting fields and farms.” Her mother’s tone conveyed her opinion about such things, and it wasn’t positive. “I left him at the cozy B&B we booked. So convenient that it had availability.”

Oh, no. “You’re staying? At a B&B?”

“Oh, yes. Even more charming than your little place here. I understand they’ve undergone some renovations recently.”

“Mom, are you staying at the Oakwell Inn?”

“Well of course, darling.”

“But that’s Noah’s—”

“Yes, I promised his mother a full report, of course.” Her own mother sniffed. “Angelica is a charming girl, although she seems quite busy.”

That explained why nobody had thought to warn Naomi about this ambush. Angelica was due to leave to film another segment of her popular show in a day or two. Possibly even tomorrow—Naomi wasn’t sure of the exact schedule. But Noah and Angelica would have been far too busy cooing over each other to even register this particular emergency. They probably thought Naomi had invited her parents to come.

“Why are you and Dad here? You never leave the city.”

“Darling, you didn’t answer your phone. I assumed you were dead. We came to identify your body.”

“You booked a B&B to identify my corpse?”

“Well, we certainly weren’t going to stay at a Holiday Inn.”

Naomi closed her eyes and sought patience. “You knew I wasn’t dead. What’s going on?”

Her mother leaned toward her. “It’s an intervention, Naomi.”

Naomi felt her jaw drop. “A what?”

“An intervention. Jacob and Tanya are on their way, too. We felt the whole family should be here.”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

  • By entering the giveaway, you’re confirming that you are at least 18 years old.
  • Winners will be selected by random number. No purchase necessary to win.  The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning.
  • If you win, you must respond to my email within 24 hours or another winner may be chosen. Please make sure that your spam filter allows email from Books I Love A Latte.
  • Winners may be announced on the blog following the contest. By entering the contest you are agreeing to allow your name to be posted and promoted as the contest winner by Books I Love A Latte.
  • Prizes will be distributed following the giveaway either by Books I Love A Latte or the person/organization donating the prize.
  • By entering you are agreeing to hold Books I Love A Latte harmless if the prize or giveaway in some way negatively impacts the winner.
  • Readers may only enter once for each contest.  Duplicate entries for the same giveaway will be ignored. In the event of technical problems with the blog during the contest, every effort will be made to extend the contest deadline to allow for additional entries.
  • Void where prohibited by law.

ICYMI

The Vintner’s Vixen

Authors Dish With Rebecca Norinne

Coffee With Jamaila Brinkley

AUTHOR BIO:

Rebecca Norinne writes sexy romance from the heart. Her heroines are bold and headstrong, and her heroes will do anything for the ones they love.

When not banging away at the keyboard, she is watching rugby, enjoying a pint of craft beer, or traveling the globe in search of inspiration for her next book.

Originally from California, Rebecca currently resides in Dublin, Ireland, with her husband.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website ~  Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Newsletter ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon ~ Bookbub

AUTHOR BIO:
Jamaila Brinkley writes historical romance with a hint of magic. Her Wizards of London series features thieves, duchesses, witches, and more indulging in mayhem and romance in Regency England. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and was a finalist in the Romance Through the Ages contest in 2015.

Jamaila came to romance as an avid reader of fantasy and science fiction, and found that her favorite historical romances seemed ripe for an injection of magic. Her favorite historical period is currently the Victorian era, and she’s never happier than when immersed in a multi-book family series.

Jamaila lives outside Baltimore, Maryland in a house that is perpetually under renovation with her husband and twin toddlers. You can find her blogging about romance, writing, parenting, cooking, and more on her website at www.jamailabrinkley.com, and posting pictures of her lunch on Twitter as @jamaila.

AUTHOR LINKS:
WebsiteFacebook ~ Twitter ~ Newsletter ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon

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The Extra Shot – May 17, 2018

The Extra Shot – May 17, 2018

Welcome to The Extra Shot where we bring you EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.  

Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits. 

Today you’ll find an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Chef Sugarlips by USA Today Bestselling Author Tawna Fenske to jump start your weekend along with a fabulous giveaway too! This book releases tomorrow so one-click your copy now and get ready for a great new book adventure tomorrow! 

Be sure to stop by the blog later today for my review on Chef Sugarlips, you don’t want to miss the first book in the Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedy series! If you read Studmuffin Santa you will recognize a few familiar characters who have their own standalone read! Haven’t read Studmuffin Santa? Be sure to check out the giveaway below!

I watch her exit my office in the corner of the barn and make her way to the side door and out into the crisp spring afternoon. The second the barn door closes, I yank my sweater off one shoulder and sniff my bra strap.

Nothing. It just smells like the lilac body lotion I’ve been wearing lately.

But I know I smell something, and I’m pretty sure I’m on the right track. I pull both arms inside my shirt sleeves and contort my hands behind me to unhook my bra. Mission accomplished, I snake it through the left sleeve of my sweater and pull it out at the wrist cuff like a deranged magician.

I hold up the bra for inspection, but it looks fine. Lavender and lacy, it’s one of my nicest pieces of lingerie. But when did I last wash it?

I hold it to my nose and have just started to inhale when the barn door flies open.

“Amber, hey—oh.” Sean freezes halfway to my office, blinking against the dim light of the barn. And at the sight of me smelling my bra.

Slowly, I lower my cupped hands to the desk and lay the lacy scrap there like a dead pet. “Sean.”

He looks at me, then at the bra, then back to my face, detouring only a little at my unsupported assets hidden beneath magenta cashmere. “I—uh—” He steps forward, hesitating at the door of my office. “Your sister said you were out here. I came by to grab my coolers?”

A quicker-thinking woman might shove the bra in a desk drawer or try to pass it of as a hanky.

I’ve never been that quick.

“So—I—right.” I take a deep breath and gesture toward the lavender lace laid out on my desk with the cups pointing jauntily at the ceiling. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m smelling my bra.”

“The thought did occur to me.” He leans against the doorframe, and I can tell he’s trying not to smile.

I drop into my desk chair with a little more bounce than expected. Sean’s eyes flicker, but he keeps them on my face.

“Right, see, there are certain things no one really tells you when you’re a girl.”

He hesitates, then settles into Beth’s vacated seat. “Okay.”

“Like everyone knows you wash your panties every day, right?”

“One can assume.” He’s having a harder time holding back laughter, I can tell.

“But no one ever sits you down and says, ‘here’s how often you should wash your bras.’ Like is it once a week? Every few days? Monthly? I honestly don’t know, and then how do you remember which ones you washed when and whether there’s this one random bra in the back of the drawer that got skipped the last time you did delicates, and now you’re pretty sure it’s been years since the damn thing saw soap and water?”

My voice has risen to the pitch of a crazy person, to say nothing about my actual words. My God, he must think I’m insane.

Slowly, the smile spreads over his face. He folds his hands on the desk, and I’m conscious of the fact that his knuckles are scant inches from my favorite bra. Is it wrong that I’m wishing my boobs were still in it?

“You remember what I said in the chapel?” he asks. “About how you’re way different from Ethereal Mermaid Amber I used to imagine?”

I nod, not trusting myself not to say another damn word.

“I like this Amber better,” he says. “The quirky one who says stuff other people are probably thinking, but don’t actually say? I’m digging that about you.”

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

  • By entering the giveaway, you’re confirming that you are at least 18 years old.
  • Winners will be selected by random number. No purchase necessary to win.  The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning.
  • If you win, you must respond to my email within 24 hours or another winner may be chosen. Please make sure that your spam filter allows email from Books I Love A Latte.
  • Winners may be announced on the blog following the contest. By entering the contest you are agreeing to allow your name to be posted and promoted as the contest winner by Books I Love A Latte.
  • Prizes will be distributed following the giveaway either by Books I Love A Latte or the person/organization donating the prize.
  • By entering you are agreeing to hold Books I Love A Latte harmless if the prize or giveaway in some way negatively impacts the winner.
  • Readers may only enter once for each contest.  Duplicate entries for the same giveaway will be ignored. In the event of technical problems with the blog during the contest, every effort will be made to extend the contest deadline to allow for additional entries.
  • Void where prohibited by law.

 

Coffee With

Authors Dish

Tawna Fenske: When Tawna Fenske finished her English lit degree at 22, she celebrated by filling a giant trash bag full of romance novels and dragging it everywhere until she’d read them all. Now she’s a RITA-nominated, USA Today bestselling author who writes humorous fiction, risqué romance, and heartwarming love stories with a quirky twist. Publishers Weekly has praised Tawna’s offbeat romances with multiple starred reviews and noted, “There’s something wonderfully relaxing about being immersed in a story filled with over-the-top characters in undeniably relatable situations. Heartache and humor go hand in hand.”

Tawna lives in Bend, Oregon, with her husband, stepkids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets. She loves hiking, snowshoeing, standup paddleboarding, and inventing excuses to sip wine on her back porch. She can peel a banana with her toes and loses an average of twenty pairs of eyeglasses per year. To find out more about Tawna and her books, visit www.tawnafenske.com.

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The Extra Shot April 22, 2018

The Extra Shot April 22, 2018

Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.  

Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.  

Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits. 

Today you’ll find an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from The Blood Reaver by USA Today Bestselling Author Barbara Devlin to jump start your week along with a fabulous giveaway too! This is the sixth book in the Pirates of the Britannia series where the Pirates of the Coast crossover into The Pirates of the Britannia. Discover a whole lot of goodness in this new adventure.

One quick note, the pre-order price of The Blood Reaver releases is $2.99 so be sure to one-click your copy now readers, release day is April 24th!

Be sure to stop by the blog tomorrow for my review on The Blood Reaver, you don’t want to miss this exciting installment in the Pirates of the Britannia series!

Official Back Blurb:

After her father and her older brother die of an infectious fever, and an unscrupulous sea captain abandons Rose Armistead in Port Royal, Jamaica, she must find safe passage home.  When she meets a handsome mariner with his own ship, in an establishment of ill repute, she pays him to carry her, her mother, and her younger brother to Charles Town.  But the man she considers her savior hides a dark secret, and it may destroy her.  Can Rose accept her man’s true identity and find love?

 

When a beautiful woman walks into the most notorious brothel in Port Royal, Turner Reyson, a cunning pirate known as the Blood Reaver, offers his assistance, because he wants her in his bunk, but he conceals the nature of his business, as he casts off.  At sea, Rose displays a peculiar ability to spot prize and booty, and his suspicious crew declares her the Lady of Fortune, which places her in a perilous position, when they insist on keeping her aboard ship.  Playing two sides of the same coin, Turner must win his woman or risk mutiny, which would endanger her and her family.  Can the Blood Reaver save Rose?

 

Chapter One

 

March, 1680

 

It was not the most ideal introduction, to meet a beautiful young woman at the wrong end of a three-barrel flintlock pistol, which she stole from an unoccupied table, while the owner got his nutmegs sucked.  Garbed in a fancy blue dress, with a matching ruffled contraption on her head, she did not belong in one of the most violent brothels in Port Royal.  Biting her bottom lip, she adjusted the gun in her grip, belying the fact that she possessed little if any experience with weapons, and crept further into the whorehouse.

“Hello.”  Her hand shook, as she took aim at the crowd, in general.  “I do not wish to be rude or cause trouble, but someone stole my trunk, which was sitting in front of this fine establishment, while I asked for directions, and I would like the return of my belongings, please.”

A fiddler screeched a bawdy tune, as several cup-shots took a flyer with a rough collection of three-penny uprights, in the back.  At the bar, Turner Reyson, a pirate known on the high seas as the Blood Reaver, studied the pretty bit o’ fluff, while everyone else ignored her, downed his rum, dragged his sleeve across his mouth, and navigated the tables, to get a closer look at his potential prey, given he had yet to fill his bed.  Just as he drew near, she cocked the pistol, pointed toward the ceiling, closed her eyes, scrunched her face, and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed, and she started and shrieked, as quiet fell on the bordello.

Halting in his tracks, he snickered and waited to see what she did for an encore, but if she were half as spirited between the sheets, he would be a happy man.

“I beg your pardon.”  She cleared her throat, as he moved behind her, for close inspection.  From beneath her bonnet, he spied sweet little brown curls at the nape of her neck, and his fingertips itched to toy with a thick lock.  “I am so sorry to disturb you, but I must have my things.”  She stepped forward, and Turner splayed his arms to part his fellow buccaneers.  “Now, my mother and my brother wait for me, outside, and I cannot leave without recovering my property.”

“Watch out, men.”  Turner chuckled, given the chit’s moxie.  “I would rather set sail on a Friday, with a Jonah, than tangle with an armed, angry woman.”  To hoots and hollers, he raised his hands.  “Come on, swabs, humor the little lady.”

In unison, the motely crew of raiders and whores parodied his stance and howled with laughter.

“But, I am serious.”  She peered over her shoulder, and he glimpsed glorious blue eyes and lush red lips he could not wait to sample.  “I must recover my trunk.”  She waved the pistol in the air.  “Whoever took it should be ashamed, because it is wrong to steal.”

“Can you describe the item in question?” a grey-haired salt asked, in a mocking timbre.

“Yes.”  The pistol fired, and she screamed, when a lantern shattered above the bar, and Red Doyle, the bartender, ducked for cover, along with everyone else.  In that moment, she glanced at Turner.  “Did I do that?”

“Aye.”  He nodded and bit his tongue against a guffaw, as she struggled with the weight of the weapon, and he did not want her angry with him.  “Be careful, before you hurt yourself or someone else.”

“Oh, dear.”  With a lethal pout, which he wagered could bring the most ornery pirate to his knees, she addressed Doyle.  “I hope you are all right, but I seek my trunk, which is made of camphor wood, with red painted leather, featuring floral motifs, and the initials RA on the top.”

“Lady, Skip Peterson has it, and he’s over there.”  Doyle pointed to the offending party, and she marched forth, with Turner in her wake.  “He’s the one in the floppy black hat.”

“Aw, come on, Doyle.”  Perched atop the trunk in question, Skip pounded his fist on the table.  “Finders, keepers.”

“How dare you take my things.”  The fascinating creature stomped a foot.  “You could at least display a modicum of contrition, because you stole my trunk, and I insist you give it back, this instant.”

“Oh?”  Skip stood and rotated to face her.  “Who is going to make me?”  He surveyed her from top to toe, and Turner could almost read the thief’s thoughts.  “You?”

“Peterson, carry the trunk outside, and put it where you found it.”  Turner folded his arms.  “Now.”

“I didn’t know she was with you, Reyson.”  Peterson scratched his temple and shuffled his feet.  Then he smacked another tar.  “Here, now.  Give me a hand with the lady’s trunk.”

“You swiped it.”  The burley swab chuckled.  “So, you may ask my arse, because it is not worth the fight.”

“Oh, all right.”  With a grimace, Peterson hefted the fancy coffer.  “Where do you want it?”

“Where I left it.”  Despite her frippery, the wench showed courage, as she tapped her foot.  “And have care with my property, as the trunk was a gift from my father.”

“My lady, I am your most humble servant.”  Of course, Peterson taunted her, but she appeared oblivious.  “What else do you require?  Shall I wipe your—”

“Please, do not be crude, as I would conclude this most irksome business, posthaste.”  At the entrance, Peterson continued outside, but she paused, set the weapon on the table, from where she claimed it, faced the crowd, and smiled.  “Thank you, so much, for your cooperation.  You have been very kind.”

To Turner’s disgust, a couple of buccaneers actually stood and saluted her.  As she stepped into the sunlight, a cheer erupted from the brothel, and he cursed under his breath.

At the roadside, a portly woman withered beneath a frilly parasol and fanned herself, while a young lad lingered at her side, and both eyed Turner with a healthy dose of scrutiny absent in their fetching relation, to her detriment, because he presented a very real threat to her.

Without acknowledgement, Peterson dumped the chest and brushed past Turner, and he gave his attention to the skirt.

“I see you found your things.”  The scamp scowled at Turner.  “Who is this gentleman?”

“I am no gentleman.”  Turner actually took offense to the mere suggestion, as it left a foul taste in his mouth.  “And you should not insult me, when I extended my support to the lady.”

“Oh, I almost forgot about you.”  She blinked.  Now that hurt, because he had no trouble filling his bunk.  “Clinton, mind your manners, because this gentle—nice man supported my cause, and I owe him a debt of gratitude, which we are honor-bound to discharge.”

“I have no interest in your gratitude or your honor.”  At the end of his tether, Turner folded his arms, planted his feet, and wondered how long it would take him to get between her thighs.  “Well, are you going to tell me your name, or am I to guess?”

“Forgive my impudence, sir, but it has been a rather taxing day, and I am a tad out of sorts.”  She squared her shoulders.  “I am Rose Armistead, this is my mother, Bettine Armistead, and this is my brother, Clinton Armistead.  We are pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I am not.”  Clinton narrowed his stare.  “And I shall be hanged before I claim otherwise.”

Clinton.”  As her cheeks shaded red, Rose compressed her lips and then met Turner’s gaze.  “My apologies, as my brother has been unwell and is still recovering.  To whom do I owe my thanks, good sir?”

“I am neither good nor a sir, and you would do well to remember that.”  Just as he prepared to inform her of his true occupation, he reconsidered his tack, given his pirate name would inspire more fear than confidence.  “I am Captain Turner Reyson.”

“A captain?”  Rose clasped her hands beneath her chin and bounced on her toes.  “Can it be possible that fortune smiles upon us, after our difficulties, of late?  Are you by chance master of a ship, Captain Reyson?”

“Aye.”  He nodded once, more than a little confused by her expression, as he revisited the niceties and the proper address she would expect from a regular seaman.  “I command the Malevolent, Miss Armistead.”

“Mama, our prayers are answered.”  To his surprise, Rose briefly clasped his forearm and then withdrew.  “Captain Reyson, might I hire you to take us home, to Charles Town, in His Majesty’s Province of Carolina?  I can pay you well.”

“I am not a transport service, Miss Armistead, though I might be persuaded.”  In truth, the idea appealed to him, because a lot could happen in the close confines of his brigantine, and he needed the money, but there was another reason that swayed his position.  If he sailed north, he could launch a surprise attack, given most pirates embarked from the south, on a galleon loaded with gold, bearing east from the Spanish Main.  “First, I would know how you arrived in Port Royal, because you do not belong here.  And if I were to deliver you home, what would you pay me?”

“Ours is a sad tale, Captain Reyson.”  With her hand, she shielded her face, and he admired her flawless skin of pure ivory.  “My family journeyed to Alicante, so my father could open new trade relationships for Charles Town.  During our stay, he became ill with an infectious fever, which later struck my elder brother, and both perished.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”  Given the vast markets exchanged in the Spanish port city, he concluded her family must possess great wealth, which further stimulated his interest.  “So, what brought you here?”

“Although my father arranged return passage, we missed the departure, due to his failing condition, and I was left to secure alternative travel for myself, my mother, and my younger brother, after burying our loved ones, in Spain.  On the recommendation of an acquaintance, we hired Captain Donat.”  With a trembling chin, and a furrowed brow, she frowned.  “After paying full fare, for three passengers, we set sail aboard the Sea Serpent.  A sennight into the voyage, we discovered the captain carried human cargo, which we do not support, so he put us off in Port Royal, while he conducted business, and refused to refund any portion of our money.  Thus, we are at your mercy, and I beg you to consider my request.”

“What did Donat charge to deliver you from Alicante to Charles Town?”  Turner mulled the possibilities and associated cost.  Since he missed his last mark, due to foul weather, he had to find something to satisfy his crew’s thirst for booty.  “And what sort of accommodations do you require, because options are limited aboard the Malevolent.”

“We will take whatever you provide and be glad of it, Captain Reyson.”  Rose reached for her mother’s hand.  “And we paid five pounds sterling, each, for myself and for my mother, and two pounds and ten shillings for Clinton, as is the usual rate, or so I am told.  However, I am unwilling to pay more than half, up front, given Captain Donat took advantage of us, so I shall remit the remainder of our fare upon our arrival in Charles Town.”

“You are a shrewd negotiator, Miss Armistead.”  As much as he hated to admit it, she gained a measure of respect, because she did not cower in the face of adversity.  Where most women would cry and yield to hysterics, in similar circumstances, Rose simply sought another course of action, which included the none-too-smart but audacious invasion of a whorehouse rife with cutthroats and pirates.  “Allow me to suggest the Port Royal Inn, where you can take rooms for the night and enjoy a decent meal.  In the morning, meet me at the docks.”

“Does that mean you will help us?”  Given her smile, there was little he would not do for her, and he promised to weigh anchor in her, no doubt, uncharted territory, before the journey’s end.  “You will take us home?”

Inclining his head, he winked.  “Miss Armistead, you got yourself a ship.”

 

 

Starting April 24th for a limited time you can one-click

the Brethren of the Coast and set sail on a fabulous adventure.

Hurry, the offer won’t last long!

 

 

 

 

Coffee With

Authors Dish

 

 

USA Today bestselling, Amazon All-Star author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, Delaware that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite.

Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature not so perfect heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero before they find their happily ever after.

Barbara is a disabled-in-the-line-of-duty retired police officer, and she earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.

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The Extra Shot – April 15, 2018 Taryn Leigh Taylor

The Extra Shot – April 15, 2018 Taryn Leigh Taylor

Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.  

Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.  

Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits. 

Today we’ve got an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Playing for Keeps by Taryn Leigh Taylor to jump start your week along with a fabulous giveaway too! 

One quick note, the pre-order price of Playing for Keeps is $3.49 so be sure to one-click your copy now readers!

Official Back Blurb:

The stakes are high when you’re playing for keeps…

Pro hockey player Eric Jacobs should be focused on rehabbing his knee and getting back on the ice where he belongs. Then his grandmother sells the family bakery without telling him, and the gloves come off. He’s not losing his childhood home without a fight—but the new owner is proving as stubborn as she is gorgeous, and it’s throwing him off his game.

Rebecca Callahan is searching for her passion, and she’s determined not to let her lack of baking experience stand in the way of making her new business a success. Especially not with the former owner’s handsome grandson just waiting for her to fail. If she’s going to make him eat his words, she needs to keep her mind on the bakery and stop imagining Eric’s sexy abs as dessert.

Now Rebecca and Eric are facing off in a battle of wills, but will giving into the heat between them be a recipe for disaster, or the icing on the cupcake?

 

 

“Can I try?”

He turned to face her fully, resting an elbow on the top of the stick. She didn’t want to notice the snug fit of his grey t-shirt over his incredible chest, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Why?” Suspicion made his voice flat.

“You said this is your passion.” She shrugged. “Maybe hockey is my passion, too.”

Rebecca didn’t suppose he meant his skeptical face to look cute, but it kind of was.

“Besides,” she went in for the kill, “you wouldn’t have any pucks if I hadn’t burned those cupcakes.”

“Well, personally I don’t understand how hitting things with a piece of wood could be your passion,” he chided, “but help yourself.”

She followed his head tip to find an old garbage can full of hockey sticks to her right, tucked beside the building. Grabbing one, she marched over to join him in the center of the tarmac.

“Whoa there, slugger.” Eric grabbed the stick from her and walked back to the garbage can. “As a rule,” he said over his shoulder, shoving the stick back in and picking a new one, “you don’t want the stick to be taller than you.”

He came back and held his selection in front of her. His knuckles brushed her arm as he measured, and she stiffened at the contact. It came just a bit above her armpit.

“That one’s close. Since your shoes are kind of like being on skates.”

She accepted the new stick. It felt awkward in her hands. “Okay, coach. What do I do?”

“Well, first of all, this isn’t golf. You’re going to want to spread your hands apart and choke up on the shaft.”

Her inner teen boy snort-laughed at the instructions. “Say what?”

He rolled his eyes at her childishness, but the corner of his mouth tugged up as he stick-handled a cupcake into place in front of her.

“Now you want the puck, or in our case, the cupcake, more in the center of the blade,” he instructed.

“That’s the curvy part?” she clarified, waggling her hips a little as she got set to take her shot. The sudden weight of his hand on her lower back made her freeze in place.

“Still not golf,” he reminded her, and his deep voice unleashed a shiver down her spine.

Had she been standing this close to him the whole time?

Eric removed his hand and took a step back, readjusting his grip on his hockey stick. “So now you just shift your weight, flick your wrists, and follow through by pointing the toe of your blade at whatever you’re aiming for.”

His demonstration ended with another snipe to the top left-hand corner. Hers…rolled harmlessly on the pavement, stopping two feet in front of her stick.

She expected a joke then, but instead his face was earnest and encouraging. “Not bad.” He stick-handled another cupcake in front of her. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, instead of wondering how his hockey skills might transfer into…other areas. Rebecca had always been a sucker for a man who was good with his hands.

“This time, stand a little closer, put your weight on your back foot to start.”

She followed his instructions, and her cupcake rolled all the way to the wall this time.

“Yeah! Yes. That’s what I’m talking about!”

Rebecca returned his high-five. She was a little surprised at the pride tingling through her limbs. It was such a silly little accomplishment—flinging a cupcake at a wall with a stick. And yet, Eric’s patient tutelage and genuine joy in her triumph made it feel like a big deal. It was the same way she always felt when tackling something new, only…more somehow. It was kind of nice celebrating an accomplishment with someone else. Dangerous. But nice.

Kind of like his smile, she decided, as her eyes dropped to his mouth. He seemed really close again. Or was she the one moving forward? His shoulders were very broad, and she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. Even in her three-and-a-half inch heels she wasn’t tall enough to kiss him. He’d have to lean forward a bit and—

A loud crash broke into the moment, and Rebecca whirled around to face the big dumpster in the far corner, heart jack-hammering at the weird scrambling sound emanating from behind it. Eric barely glanced over at the source of the noise, although he seemed to be breathing heavier than normal, too.

“Probably just Mario.”

“Who?”

“Our alley cat.”

“You have a cat?”

“Not really. I mean, we’ve never seen him. Just hear him out here foraging sometimes. He likes cake.”

She watched in fascination as he scooped up a cupcake with his stick, bounced it on the curve—the blade, she corrected herself—a few times, and then lobbed it gently in the direction of the dumpster. It fell neatly between the wall and the big bin. There was a scuffling sound—a big hungry cat who wasn’t overly picky about whether or not his dinner had baking powder in it, she surmised.

Rebecca flushed a little at the show of skill. It was kind of…hot, the way he wielded his stick. She cleared her throat and shoved her mind back to more innocuous things. “So why did your grandma name him Mario?”

 “Uh. Actually I named him.” Eric’s blush spread up his neck and reddened his ears. “Mario LeMeow. You know, like Mario Lemieux…played center for Pittsburgh? Hockey legend?” he added, when Rebecca shrugged uncomprehendingly at the name. “But, you know, with meow. Because cat.”

Rebecca couldn’t fight the smile that dawned. “That’s pretty much the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

Eric frowned, and the disgruntled look on his face knocked cat names down to second place on the adorable list. “Just shoot, wouldja?”

Playing for Keeps releases on digital retailers everywhere on April 24th.

BUY LINKS:

USA: http://bit.ly/pfkcom

Canada: http://bit.ly/pfkazca

UK: http://bit.ly/pfkcouk

Australia: http://bit.ly/pfkau

 

 

THREE copies of PLAYING TO WIN 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Coffee With Taryn Leigh Taylor

Authors Dish


Taryn Leigh Taylor: 
Taryn Leigh Taylor likes dinosaurs, bridges, and space, both personal and of the final frontier variety. She shamelessly indulges in cliches, most notably her Starbucks addiction (grande-six-pump-whole-milk-no-water chai tea latte, aka: the usual), her shoe hoard (I can stop anytime I…ooh! These are pretty!), and her penchant for falling in lust with fictional men with great abs (yum!)

She also really loves books, which is what sent her down the crazy path of writing one in the first place.

Website: http://www.tarynleightaylor.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tarynltaylor1

Twitter: https://twitter.com/tarynltaylor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tarynltaylor/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13696147.Taryn_Leigh_Taylor

 

 

 

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