Thursday, March 30, 2017

Fixing Sydney by Diane Zparkki



Young Adult Romantic Suspense
Date Published:  August 1 2016



Sydney Sommer’s world fell apart after senior prom. Since then, her life had become a constant loop of unfortunate scenarios that kept her in constant fear of what might be lurking around the next corner. Her trust in others was at a standstill. Even those who were closest to her were held at a distance.
After serving active duty overseas, Jaxon Triggs moved away from his hometown, hoping the change in scenery would help him build a new future for himself. What he wasn’t expecting was to fall for a girl who was broken.
From the first moment Jaxon laid eyes on Sydney, he was curious. He became determined to do everything he could to break through the armor Sydney held around her so securely. His instinct to protect her and keep her safe kicked in as the dangers she encountered became more personal.
With dread always looming close by and secrets discovered, would Sydney be able to handle the new changes in her life yet heal at the same time?




Diane Zparkki——lives in the greater Toronto area. She is a working mom, and with her husband, she has raised three great kids. She is a thrill seeker who usually drags her family along with her.
She was never a big reader or writer in her youth—Coles Notes were her best friend through college. Her enthusiasm for reading came later in life when she joined a book club. She loved those books, but she wanted raw, simple, and happily ever after with a bit of get down and dirty. That was when her love for bad boys on a Harley was set in motion.
After reading so many books, her mind started to create her first story, and she needed to get it out.
Fixing Sydney of the Branson’s Kind of Love trilogy is her first book, and she hopes you enjoy it as much as she has enjoyed having these characters running around in her head.


Contact Information
Twitter: @dianezparkki
Pinterest: diane zparkki



Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/2mWYL4n


A Day in the Life of Author Diane Zparkki

Writing is not my full time job, oh how I wish it was. My day begins like most working moms with my alarm clock being programmed to go off at six thirty with the sweet sound of “Free” by Zac Brown Band. Now that does not necessarily mean that I get up. I head up rolling out of bed about fifteen minutes later and and get myself ready for the day. By seven thirty I am heading downstairs but not before I flip the lights on in my son’s room while his own alarm is blaring to his own sound, and it is no Zac Brown tune.
I make my way down to the kitchen to get breakfast ready and make lunches. Loving that next year my son will be in high school and he will have to make his own lunch.
At eight o’clock I am final sitting down to eat my breakfast and will either go through my emails and do correspondence or I will read for half hour before I have to leave for work.
But of course during the midst of this morning kitchen routine I have hollered up to my son about a dozen times to make sure he is up and getting ready.  I wonder how I once did this with three kids in the house (my two daughters are at university now).
I am at work ready to start my day by eight forty- five. I spend my day at an elementary school where the autistic students are integrated into the regular class with support for an educational resource worker, me. The job is consuming because I often try to think outside the box to teach and also help the classroom teacher with the curriculum they need to have in place for these students. Some days can be challenging to say the least, but on those days when things go smoothly and my students get it. It’s an absolutely rewarding day.
My lunch breaks are spent in a quiet room were I can run away with my characters and write their story. In fact, my computer is usually with me where ever I go. As I am writing this I am sitting a speed training program my son is involved in for an hour. I could easily leave and go for a coffee or go shopping but my character is always hanging out with me demanding to be heard.
I thank my lucky stars that my husband loves cooking because he makes dinner most nights.

After dinner I get myself settled down with a cup of tea, fuzzy socks, and my pajamas to sit down at my computer to write. I close down the computer at around eight thirty and do one of two things: climb into bed and read whatever book I am reading or head down to the family room and watch two or three episodes of whatever Netflix obsession I am on. My eyes usually close around midnight where my characters decide to take over my subconscious.






The English Duke by Karen Ranney Tour & Giveaway


a new series about dashing, charismatic dukes—
and the women who tame them…


THE ENGLISH DUKE
The Duke Trilogy #2
Karen Ranney
Releasing March 28, 2016
Avon Books



In the second in New York Times Bestselling Author Karen Ranney’s scintillating series, society’s most coveted duke finds the one thing wealth and position cannot buy—the perfect partner…

For years, Martha York has been fascinated by a man she’s never met—Jordan Hamilton, the new Duke of Roth and protégé to her inventor father. Could the elusive gentleman possibly live up to his brilliant letters? When Martha travels to his estate to carry out her father’s last bequest, she discovers that the answer is a resounding yes, for the duke’s scientific mind belies a deep sensuality…

Jordan was determined to complete his prototype alone, but it’s impossible to resist the alluring young woman who shows up at his door. Working together, they grow ever closer, until a case of mistaken identity leaves him bound to another. A woman’s heart may be more complex than the most intricate invention, but Jordan must find a way to win Martha’s, or lose the only woman who can truly satisfy him… 



CHAPTER 1
July, 1871 Griffin House, England
Martha York stared down at the letter her sister had just handed her.
For months she’d been trying to satisfy her father’s bequest. He’d asked her to see that his work was given to the Duke of Roth. That’s all. Except it hadn’t been easy, had it?
She’d been writing to the duke for nearly a year and never received an answer. Not a note. Nothing dictated to a secretary. Not one small sliver of information. She’d kept writing and he’d kept ignoring her.
“Aren’t you going to open it, Martha?” Josephine asked.
She nodded, staring at the distinctive emblem on the reverse before removing the seal.
Part of her never wanted him to write back. There, a bit of honesty. She hadn’t wanted to relinquish all her father’s precious diaries, all his prototypes, all his notes.
“What does he say, Martha?” Josephine asked. “Has he invited us to Sedgebrook? Has he?”
Martha frowned at her sister. “Of course he hasn’t.” “But what has he said? Are you going to read it to us?” Josephine asked, her glance encompassing their grandmother.
Gran didn’t say a word, but she was looking over at Martha. Normally, nothing could divert her attention from her crochet work.
“He says he doesn’t want Father’s bequest. He does send his condolences on Father’s death. A year late.”
“He has to take it,” Gran said calmly. “Shall we just send everything in a wagon? He’d have no choice but to accept everything.”
“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to Bessie,” she said, referring to her father’s latest prototype. “Why he thought the duke would want it, I’ve no idea.”
“They were friends,” Gran said. “Matthew didn’t spare the time for many people.”
Martha only nodded. Gran’s son, their father, had been a hermit, but a happy one. He went to the cottage situated at the end of the lawn every day, content to tinker there surrounded by his inventions, and al- lowing his imagination to take him where it would.
The unlikely friendship between Jordan Hamilton and her father had begun before the man had become the Duke of Roth. He’d been a naval officer then, curious about her father’s work, and writing with his questions. That had sparked an intense correspondence, one that lasted until pneumonia had taken Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly.
“At least he finally deigned to answer my letter,” Martha said. “Which is the most he’s done all these months. He probably got tired of me writing.”
“What are you going to do?” Gran asked, her crochet work forgotten on her lap.
“I could simply keep writing him until he agrees to come here.”
“Or we could take Father’s bequest to him,” Josephine said.
She glanced up at her sister.
“That’s out of the question,” she said, staring down at the distinctive handwriting. She knew it well. She’d read every one of the duke’s letters to her father.
She hadn’t expected him to repudiate her father’s gift. Doing so was worse than a slap in the face. His ignoring her letters ridiculed the relationship that Matthew York had valued so much. She’d thought the Duke of Roth had felt the same, but evidently he didn’t.
“Why is it out of the question?” Josephine asked. “Josephine, please sit,” she said, looking up at her sister.
Each time Josephine passed in front of her, perfume wafted in her direction. Ever since her mother had departed Griffin House, Josephine had taken to wearing Marie’s favorite French perfume. It was, according to her sister, a sophisticated fragrance. Martha thought it was overbearing and too flowery.
Perhaps Josephine wore it to remind her of Marie. No doubt that was the same reason her sister gravitated to the Rose Parlor. Her mother often sat here, staring out at the lawn, her gaze impenetrable and almost troubling to witness.
The room was filled with all those things Marie loved, but evidently not enough to remain at Griffin House. Needlepoint sat in a frame, patiently waiting to be finished. Needlepoint pillows were arranged on the sofa. Footrests upholstered in needlepoint sat at their feet while needlepoint pictures of flowers framed in gold hung on one wall. Even the draperies had needlepoint tiebacks.
She couldn’t help but wonder if Marie truly had an affinity for needlepoint or if it was only an outlet for other feelings.
The Rose Parlor had been decorated by her step- mother. The sofa and love seat, as well as the curtains that framed the view of the back lawn and the lake were pink. The pillows that weren’t covered in needlepoint were pink as well. The round carpet beneath her feet consisted of overblown lush roses—in pink, of course—with a contrasting green border.
Josephine loved the room. Martha felt slightly bilious in it. Gran didn’t seem to mind, being as involved in her crocheting as Marie had been in her needlepoint.
As for herself, when she wasn’t in her own room, she was in her father’s cottage. Although not quite a laboratory, it truly wasn’t an office, either. Instead, it was a combination of the two with tall skinny windows looking out over the lake.
She was his assistant and one of her tasks was to record his thoughts and experiments for the ages as well as to serve as his sounding board.
He’d been a good man, a truly inventive one. If he was more involved in his pursuits and less his family, perhaps that was to be expected.
No one, least of all her, had been that surprised when Marie had hied off to France six months after his death. According to the letter she had written Josephine, she was madly in love with a French count.
Of course I will send for you, my love, she’d written.
As soon as Pierre and I are settled at his estate. You will love the château. It’s so much more to my taste than Griffin House ever was.
Marie was French, a fact that Josephine seemed to recite more and more often of late. As if being half- French was something preferable to being completely English.
“Well?” Josephine asked. “What are you going to do?”
Martha looked out at the lake, placid in the July morning, remembering her father’s words. “Wherever there’s a mystery, you can’t help but feel excitement. Always seek to find a mystery. The sheer act of solving it will keep you happy.”
The mystery that had occupied her mind ever since his death was finding how that final experiment had been successful. He’d been so happy when he’d come in from the storm. He’d been drenched but ecstatic, telling her that his vessel had leveled off, heading directly for the target.
But he hadn’t told her how.
In this instance there were no notes. No thoughts or idle speculation. Nothing to give her any clue.
She was determined that his life’s work would be finished, even if she had to turn over all his notes and work to the duke.
“We have to go,” Josephine said, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s what Father would have wanted. Besides, it’s the Duke of Roth! Can you imagine, Martha? We could see Sedgebrook!”




Karen Ranney wanted to be a writer from the time she was five years old and filled her Big Chief tablet with stories. People in stories did amazing things and she was too shy to do anything amazing. Years spent in Japan, Paris, and Italy, however, not only fueled her imagination but proved she wasn't that shy after all.

Now a New York Times and USA Today bestseller, she prefers to keep her adventures between the covers of her books. Karen lives in San Antonio, Texas.



Sultry and Sinful: The Femmes of Paranormal



Sultry and Sinful: The Femmes of Paranormal
Come tantalize your softer side with this FF paranormal romance anthology. From angels to sirens and many things in between, this erotic romance box set will keep you up all hours of the night, wanting more.
A Limited Edition FF Paranormal Romance and Collection!



On Sale for only 99cents until release day of 4/18/2017

Buy Links:
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2m3VSj0


Julie Morgan
Soul to Capture
Info: As a Succubus, Cora thought she didn’t need love, but when the Seraph Jael opens her eyes to the possibility, all bets are off.




Nicole Garcia
Book title: Curse of the Mermaid's Kiss
Info: Ariadna's cursed to never fall in love. But, all that will change when she saves a human who's fallen into the sea she so seeks to escape.



Louisa Bacio
Book title: Wet: An erotic mermaid tale
Info: After the Sea Queen forbids the Princess to follow her heart, Marianna swears to catch Shell, the feisty water sprite.



​Alyssa Breck
Book title: Kiss Me Deadly
Info: When the time comes for Maggie to make one of her own, she finds out that not all vampires are created equal.

Christine Alvarez
Book title: A Succubus Renewed
Info: Luciana, a Succubus, is bored of her monotonous existence until Krista Hadley—a human—walks into her club, unknowingly becoming her latest obsession.



Michelle Dare

Book title: Her Fated Mates
Info: Half siren/half vampire, Jade Calistro, has zero desire to find her mate. Little does she know that she has not one, but two fated mates.



Kay Margaret
Book title: Sinful Dreams
Info: Adara Dyllvan will stop at nothing to get Senna Douglas to walk back into her life, even if it means playing dirty.

Kristen Strassel
Book title: Stardust
Info: Rainey must cast a spell to destroy vampires, but her girlfriend’s been offered the opportunity of a lifetime—starring in a vampire show.


Savannah Verte
Book title: Immortal Deflagration
Info: Seychelle is a bastard. When she accidentally dreamwalks into Nova's lustful fantasy, she learns the Fates might have a reward for her after all.





Shawnee Small
Book title: The Seduction of Violette Tournaline
Info: Seduced by a handsome stranger on the eve of her debut ball, Violette must decide how far she is willing to go for love.

Heart of a Savage by Lashanta Charles

Title: Heart of a Savage
Author: Lashanta Charles
Genre: Romance — Contemporary, Sports

Heart of a Savage by Lashanta Charles is on SALE for 99¢ through March 31st!

They call him THE SAVAGE PRINCE.

He told me to call him MY SALVATION.


Bailey Ross-O’Malley has spent her whole life catering to others. She used to enjoy it. Until her father died. In an attempt to protect her, her father chose Connor to be her husband, but that was a mistake. Connor was supposed to love her, be her rock – but some rocks need to be tossed as far away as possible. She only has one source of happiness now, her son, and if Connor doesn’t get his way, he’ll take that joy from her as well.

MMA fighter, Dominic Prince, has only one mission in life: forget his past. Forget the pain, the drama, and the loss of things taken away from him too soon. He’s guarded and secretive and that’s the way he likes it. He was doing a damn good job of keeping it that way. Until her. Bailey showed up and Dominic’s life became a minefield. He can’t decide if he wants to kiss her or shake her, but he does know that he’ll fight to keep her safe. He’ll be as savage as he is in the octagon, outside of it.

Neither of them wants to accept it happening, but the past has a way of sneaking into the present. Hearts will be shattered and bonds will be broken. Will they survive it?

Free on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU



As I lock the door Tyrese and one of The Isley Brothers are extolling the virtues of having a girl who loves them. Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to team up with Tank and Ginuwine? Something small and soft touches my forearm and I barely resist the urge to jump a mile because, what the fuck, I see a hand. A hand with long, slender fingers and neon pink nail polish, sharp in its contrast to the smooth, mahogany skin. I follow an arm covered by a leather jacket to a face with big brown eyes, stretched wide as they look up at me, a small nose, and luscious lips. Her brown eyes are surrounded by long, dark lashes and arched eyebrows. They’re beautiful. She could be beautiful. She’s not though. There’s something blocking it and against my better judgment I want to know what it is. A beanie covers her head, but short black hair peeks out from one side. Those luscious lips move and I remember I still have my headphones on, but I also remember that since Janae, I hate being touched. I should really go talk to someone about these issues I’m having, but I’m a guy. Soooooo . . . I look back down at the hand that’s still on my forearm and she quickly pulls it back before dropping her gaze to the ground. I slip my headphones off just as she speaks again.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to ask you about the gym, but I knew you couldn’t hear me.”
And Junior has decided he likes her fucking voice. Soft and sweet and conveying utter innocence, even with her mumbling like she’s scared out of her mind. I would contribute that to my size, but she’s pretty tall for a chick. I’d say about 5’ 9” at least. Not to mention that chicks seem to be more turned on by my size than afraid of it. Being bigger means I can protect them. Not her though. I expect her to run for safety at any moment. She hasn’t made eye contact since I initially turned to her and she’s fidgeting. I take in her clothes, which look like they could be expensive, and I notice that she’s skinny as hell. No hips, no ass, no tits, just slim and athletic. So why in the hell is Junior stepping up to full throttle? The icing on the cake? I feel beads of pre-cum. Eleven months dry as the desert and this timid little boy-girl is un-manning me. That gets my blood boiling and for a second causes me to question my masculinity, which is totally unacceptable. Did I just say totally? This girl is destroying my vibe.
“What the fuck are you doing creeping around here this late at night?”
She squeaks. Literally jumps a foot in the air and squeaks like a scared little mouse. Granted, I did snap at her, but come on. Really? I glance around the parking lot and around the building. She can’t be out here by herself, but there is no one else and I don’t even see a car. When I look back at her, she’s hugging herself and slowly backing away. I reach out and grab her by both arms and she whimpers, her face a mask of terror. What the fuck?
“Please,” she begs. “I’m s-sorry. I-I only wanted to ask about the gym. I’ll leave. I promise.”
“You think I’m going to hurt you?” I try to keep the growl from my voice, but I can’t. Everything about this girl is irking the fuck out of me. Why would I want to hurt her and why in the hell is she so scared when she sought me out? She shrugs her shoulders in answer and although she tries to cower away, she doesn’t physically try to get free. Now I’m upset and confused. Either she’s scared or she isn’t. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to let you go and you’re not going to run, okay? You’re going to tell me what you’re doing out here and why you’re alone.” She nods her head in agreement and I let her go. She keeps her eyes trained on the ground and that gets to me even more.
“How’d you get here?”
“I walked . . . from the bus.”
“Why?” The bus stop is roughly a quarter-mile from here. This isn’t a bad neighborhood, I made sure of that when I picked the location, but she’s a female and no place is really safe for her to be alone at night. But shit, why do I even care? Why does her being here, alone, unsafe, bother me so much?
“The gym.”
Captain Obvious. Of course she’s here for the gym. She’s literally at the gym. And why is she still mumbling? “Why?”
“I looked online. It said you have self-defense classes.”
At no point would I have considered that to be her reason. She’s asking about self-defense classes and yet she’s here alone this late at night. She risks a glance at me just as a pick-up truck pulls into the parking space in front of where we stand. I groan because I know that as scared as she is, it’s about to get ten times worse.



LaShanta Charles was born and raised in the small town of Orangeburg, SC. She has always been an avid reader of all genres, but Romance has always been her true love and is what inspired her to pursue a writing career. In high school, she began letting her classmates read the short stories that she would write and based off of their feedback, her passion for writing pushed her to become a published author. She published her debut novel, Lovely Lies, in 2013 and released the sequel, Lovely Lies 2, in February 2014. Her third novel, Splitting Karma, was released in October 2014. She lives in Yelm, WA, with her husband and three children and also serves in the US Army. She’s a home body who enjoys SLEEPING, reading, SLEEPING, eating, SLEEPING, white chocolate mochas, SLEEPING, sexy alien romances, and of course, writing. Oh, and she hates spiders; they’re extremely creepy, why do they need eight legs??