Wednesday, March 30, 2016

The Forbidden Duke The Untouchables #1 By: Darcy Burke/ Book Bundle Give Away






The Forbidden Duke
The Untouchables #1
By: Darcy Burke
Released March 15, 2016.
Self-Published


Blurb

Spinster Miss Eleanor Lockhart is suddenly homeless and employment is her only option. Ruined after succumbing to a scoundrel’s excessive charm nearly a decade ago, she’s lucky to obtain a position as a paid companion and committed to behaving with the utmost propriety. She definitely shouldn’t be in the arms of a man capable of utterly destroying what little remains of her reputation...
Titus St. John, Duke of Kendal, is known as the Forbidden Duke, a mysterious, intimidating figure who enters Society just once each year at his stepmother’s ball. A decade ago, he was a devil-may-care rake until his idle roguery brought about the ruin of Eleanor Lockhart—and his resulting self-imposed isolation. Now she’s back, and she needs his help. But by “saving” her, he may just ruin her life all over again.



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“We need to take our place,” he said, guiding her to the dance floor, where Lord and Lady Satterfield were already in place at the top of the line that was forming. Kendal positioned Nora to stand beside Lady Satterfield so that they were second in the line. The musicians, set in the far corner of the makeshift ballroom, began to play, and panic seized Nora’s chest. Would she remember the steps? Would she make a fool of herself, or worse, of him?
She felt like an imposter in a scenario she’d mistakenly stumbled into. Surely someone would point her out and tell her she needed to leave. She was a pariah, an outcast. She had no place being here, let alone dancing with a duke.
But it was far too late to run away. The dance had started, and the line traveled the length of the drawing room. This dance would last quite some time, during which Nora would be the center of everyone’s attention and the source of everyone’s gossip. She could hear the exchanges now, imagined them starting up and spreading like a freshly-ignited fire.
“Look at who he chose. Who is that Nobody?”
“Don’t you remember? She ruined herself nine years ago.”
“How dreadful.”
Lord and Lady Satterfield started, dancing their way between the lines. They were rather spry, given their age.
Nora nervously looked over at the duke. “Lady Satterfield is an excellent dancer.”
“Indeed.” The rich tone of his voice soothed her rioting nerves. “She always insists on calling the first, though it’s the only set she’ll dance.”
Nora nodded. Dancing was typically reserved for the young.
She tried not to stare at her partner, but it was difficult as he was situated directly across from her and she should look at him. Look, yes, but not gape. And he was gape-worthy. His reputation suited him for he seemed forbidden, otherworldly almost. Not in an ethereal way, but in a rustic, rough sort of manner, as if Society couldn’t possibly contain him.
Despite that or perhaps because of it, he wore his costume with ease. However, she suspected he was more comfortable in riding breeches and boots as he galloped his horse across the Lake District—she’d ascertained that was where his seat was located—his powerful thighs hugging the animal’s flanks as they moved as one.
Goodness, where had that astonishing image come from?
And then it was their turn to traverse the line. She prayed she would remember the steps and focused on the music as they moved toward each other.
“You look as if you’re headed to the guillotine,” he said just loud enough for her alone to hear.
“Do I?” She tried to laugh but was afraid she sounded like a wounded bird. She longed to ask why he’d chosen her and immediately wondered if Lady Satterfield had put him up to it. She decided she didn’t want to know.
“It’s just a dance.”
The superbly absurd comment coaxed a genuine smile to her lips and alleviated some of her discomfort. “With the ‘Forbidden Duke’ who only dances once each Season. Yes, you’re quite right to characterize it that way. Thank you for putting me at ease.”
He chuckled, and like his speaking voice, it sparked a tremor that seemed to start in her bones and move outward making her flesh tingle and her chest warm. “Don’t be nervous. And certainly don’t be nervous on my account.” He said the last with a tone so dry, she feared it might curl up and blow away in the breeze.
“That is easy for you, a duke, to say. I am just a simple girl who’s been away from London a long time.”
“I daresay you aren’t ‘just’ anything.”



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Author Info

Darcy Burke is the USA Today bestselling author of hot, action-packed historical and sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age 11, a happily-ever-after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan who loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations.
A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, their two hilarious kids-who each seem to have inherited the writing gene in some form-and two Bengal cats. In her "spare" time Darcy is a serial volunteer enrolled in a 12-step program where one learns to say "no," but she keeps having to start over. Her happy places are Disneyland and Labor Day weekend at the Gorge.



Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Monday, March 28, 2016

Enter to Win a Custom Mug, $25.00 Amazon Gift Card and a Print Set of FRISK ME and STEAL ME





CUFF ME
New York's Finest #3
Lauren Layne
Releasing on March 29th, 2016
Forever: Grand Central







Vincent knows he's not the most
charming of the Moretti brothers. He prefers brooding to flirting, reading to
talking, and he sure as hell isn't about to give into his mother's insistence
that he 'settle down with a nice girl.' Luckily, Vincent's gig as one of the
NYPD's top homicide detectives keeps him busy. As does his long-time partner,
Jill Henley–a tough-as-nails cop with the face of an angel and smart mouth that
makes Vincent crazy in all the worst ways.

After six years of working the
homicide beat with the tight-lipped Vincent Moretti, Jill figure she knows him
better than anyone. Which is not at all. But when their most recent case points
to a potential serial-killer situation, the higher-ups send them on a rare
undercover mission to a place no NYPD officer dares go: the Upper Eastside.

Now the bureau's most antagonistic
set of partners is posing as Mr. and Mrs. Brooks of Park Avenue. Spending 24/7
in the suspect's territory brings them closer and closer to their killer . . .
and closer to each other. Soon Vincent and Jill are playing good cop/bad cop in
and out of bed, and Jill's falling hard. But can she convince Vincent to give
her a shot as partner in life, as well as at the bureau?







Vincent was damn good at his job. It was why he’d been assigned a trainee during Jill’s leave of absence despite the fact that his lack of people skills was as legendary as his ability to sniff out even the most clever of murderers.
In truth, Vincent had been dreading his three months with the near-rookie, but it had been less painful than expected. Dansen was a good cop. A little green, but when Dansen was assigned his new partner tomorrow, Vin had no doubts that the guy would be able to handle whatever came his way.
And then Vincent’s life would finally get back to normal.
Not that these three months without Jill had been abnormal, precisely.
He still worked the same backbreaking schedule. Still saw death more days than not.
Still went to breakfast with his family after Mass every Sunday, and argued with his brothers and occasionally with his sister during said breakfast.
He still watched sports most evenings, still worked out most mornings.
So really, his life wasn’t different without Jill at all. Except that it was. Wildly, horribly different.
He glanced at his watch. Two hours until her plane landed. Three hours, maybe four until he’d see her again. Not that he was counting.
“So you’re good from here?” Vincent asked. “If you need anything, I’ll be ...”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call ya. You never did tell me where you were going.”
“Probably because it’s none of your Goddamn business.”
Dansen put a hand to his chest. “I’ve come to love these heart-to-hearts of ours. The way we count on each other. Confide in each other—” “My cue to leave,” Vincent grumbled.
He started to get in the car, when Dansen called his name again.
Vin shot him an impatient look and was surprised when the usually confident Dansen looked away briefly before meeting his eyes.
“Hey, I just wanted to say.. .” Dansen cleared his throat from across the hood of the car, and Vin tensed, knowing what was coming.
God, he hated shit like this.
“You can drop the detective,” Vincent said roughly. “Just call me Moretti. Or Vin. Whatever.”
Dansen’s smile flashed white across his dark face. “Do you know how many cops dream of the day when they’re given permission to call one of the members of the royal family by their first name?”
“Oh Jesus. Don’t start that again.”
For the most part, Dansen had done a remarkable job of not irritating Vincent to the extreme over the past three months. But Dansen’s ridiculous hero worship of Vincent’s last name grated on his nerves. Yet another reason he couldn’t wait for Jill to get back.
Jill, who’d never cared that Vincent’s father was the recently retired police commissioner. Or that his older brother was a captain. Or that his younger brother was the NYPD’s most famous officer.
Or that his grandfather had been a cop and his mother had been a police dispatcher.. .
Okay, so maybe Vincent could sort of understand where Dansen was coming from. The Morettis were kind of NYPD royalty.
And Vincent was proud to be a part of it. Proud to carry on the legacy.
He just got damn tired of the ass kissing.
“Seriously though, thanks,” Dansen said. “Couldn’t have asked for a better detective to show me the ropes. A nicer one, sure. A better-looking one, definitely. And you can be a real—”
“Asshole, I know,” Vincent said.
Dansen held up a finger. “Not what I was going to say. I think that’s the first time you’ve tried to finish my sentence and gotten it wrong.”
“I’m never wrong,” Vin said out of habit.
“Fine.” Dansen rolled his eyes. “You’re an asshole. Happy?”
Vin didn’t bother responding, just lifted his hand in a final farewell to Dansen before the younger man could say whatever it was he’d wanted to say, and lowered himself into the car.
Vincent slid on his aviator sunglasses as he fastened his seat belt.
Vin kept his face perfectly blank until he’d pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic.
Only then, only out of sight of prying eyes, did he let a smile overtake his face. A smile that quickly became a grin as he headed toward his longtime barber for a very overdue haircut.
He told himself that his decision to get his hair cut after weeks of putting it off had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’d be seeing Jill in a few short hours.
Vincent had never really given two thoughts to what Jill Henley thought of his looks.
But then, he and Jill had never spent three months apart. He’d never had a chance to realize just how much he’d . .. missed her.
Not that he’d be telling her that.

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Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of more than a dozen contemporary romance novels.
Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. A year after moving from Seattle to NYC to pursue a writing career, she had a fabulous agent and multiple New York publishing deals. 
Lauren currently lives in Manhattan with her husband and plus-sized Pomeranian. When not writing, you'll likely find her running (rarely), reading (sometimes), or at happy hour (often).




Want More Moretti's?

Frisk Me
(New York's Finest #1)







STEAL ME
(New York's Finest #2)