New from Zee Monodee: Whisk Me Up

Whisk Me Up by +Zee Monodee

Havisham Park, Book 1

Small-town contemporary Romance set in Yorkshire, England

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BLURB

After fainting backstage at a fashion week, supermodel Mary Beth Beresford is forced to go into hiding in the sleepy North Yorkshire village of Stonydale in Havisham Park when her sisters kidnap her and bring her there to their late father’s family stronghold so she’ll face the truth – she is anorexic.

Never one to be bossed around, Mary Beth attempts to break out the very next morning…only to land onto the path of the gorgeous, Viking-like pub owner and chef, Niall Barry.

Suddenly, sticking around in this one-horse town doesn’t look like Purgatory anymore.

But Niall is a very private person who shies away from celebrity, and Mary Beth is one of the biggest celebs on the planet. Not to mention that she is an aristocrat – daughter of the late earl and member of the peerage – while he is simply a working-class chef.

Is any relationship between them doomed to collapse like a failed soufflé?

 

BUY LINKS

Amazon US http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WCT6Y7K

Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00WCT6Y7K

Amazon CA http://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B00WCT6Y7K

Barnes & Noble (Nook) http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/whisk-me-up-zee-monodee/1121820571?ean=2940151889988

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/536587

AllRomance Ebooks https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-whiskmeupahavishamparksmalltowncontemporaryromancesetinyorkshireengland-1785430-149.html

Kobo https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/whisk-me-up-a-havisham-park-romance

TEASERS

 

EXCERPT

Something about this lass didn’t add up.

She jerked in his arms, and clamped her lips shut before pressing a hand to her mouth. A garbled sound came from her throat and her skin paled, beads of sweat erupting at her temples.

He grabbed her shoulders; to steady her or to keep her in place, he knew not.

“Are you sick? Is it your blood sugar, if you’re diabetic?”

She struck him as much too young for diabetes, but stranger things happened in the world.

“Fine,” she bit out behind her hand and shook her head, sending her ponytail flying.

Early twenties, he’d say. Still a girl. Off-limits for him, being on the wrong side of thirty. He released her.

“You’re not fine.” Could he have growled more if he’d wanted?

She bristled and shrugged away from his touch. “And you’re not my keeper.”

This scrap of a lass wanted to take him on?

Niall drew to his six-five height and towered over her. You could put two like her side-to-side and only then would she match him somewhat in width.

But she poked that pointed chin out and stared him down, even if she appeared on the brink of collapse.

“The saying is, ‘you’re not my mother’,” he threw out in a bid to unsettle her.

She snorted. “Like she ever cared.”

Late teen/young adult rebellion? Hence the druggie route?

“Well, you’re in my place, and under my roof, you do as I say.”

“But of course, if you say so, Thor.”

Bit of a smart mouth, ain’t she? With his build, blond hair, and Viking ancestry, he’d been compared to the Norse god many a time.

Then her eyes rolled back, and she slumped.

Hell fire! “Calling the doctor.”

He picked her up again and brought her to the back, into the office, where he lay her down on the worn settee.

“No!”

“Listen, lass. You almost passed out three times in the past quarter hour—”

“I told you I’m not sick. I came out for a run but got lost and been out longer than I planned.”

“And you set out on an empty stomach, I bet.” Where that certitude came from, he knew not.

“I had a protein shake, okay?” She had the gall to glare at him.

He leaned down and peered into her face. “Don’ cut it with me. You’d need to run mile afore that worked off. Hardly in sweat, are you?”

Fire flashed in her gaze, and she pursed her lips as if to refrain from cursing him, or worse, spitting into his face.

“Stay put,” he ordered as he dashed out of the room and into the kitchen across the corridor. From the oven, he pulled a dish of leftover shepherd’s pie he’d heated up for Anna. Lord knew the woman never remembered to eat. Anorexic at her age; he snorted.

Eeh bah gum. The lass back there? Way too thin. She probably hardly ate a thing.

“Where are you off to?” he barked from the kitchen doorway.

She froze in the corridor. “On my way out.”

“Not afore you eaten summa’.”

“Gosh dang! Ya never let up, duntya?”

 

AUTHOR BIO

Author, editor, smitten wife, in-over-her-head mum to a tween boy, best-buddy stepmum to a teenage lad, bookaholic, lover of all things fluffy & pink, chronic shoeholic, incompetent housewife desperate to channel Nigella Lawson (and who’ll prolly always fail at making domestic goddess status)…

Zee hails from the multicultural, rainbow-nation island of Mauritius, in the southern Indian Ocean, where she grew up on the figurative fence—one side had her ancestors’ Indian and Muslim culture; the other had modernity and the global village. When one day she realised she could dip her toes into both sides without losing her integrity, she found her identity.

This quest for ‘finding your place’ is what she attempts to bring in all her stories, across all the genres she writes. Her heroines represent today’s women trying to reconcile love, life, & relationships in a melting pot of cultures, while her heroes are Alpha men who often get put back into their rightful place by the headstrong women she writes. Love is always a winner in her stories, though; that’s a given.

 

CONNECT ON SOCIAL MEDIA

**Find more about the latest on Zee and her works in her monthly newsletter http://eepurl.com/5GULr

**Read about her life & her books at her website/blog http://zeemonodee.blogspot.com/

**Friend her on Facebook (she loves to make friends & meet new people!) https://www.facebook.com/#!/zee.monodee

**Follow her on Twitter https://twitter.com/#!/ZeeMonodee

**Email her at this addy (she loves to talk…prolly too much, even!) zeemonodee@gmail.com

 

GIVEAWAY

Zee is giving one lucky commenter the chance to name a character in her next book of the series. Just leave a comment on the post and complete the rafflecopter for your chance to win.

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New from Bethany-Kris: Filthy Marcellos~Lucian

Filthy Marcellos: Lucian
Book
One in the Filthy Marcellos Trilogy
Genre:
Contemporary, Erotic Romance, Organized Crime, Suspense
Length:
98k, full length
Release
Date: February 2nd, 2015
Blurb:

Lucian Marcello is aware of the expectations following him as the oldest son of one of North America’s most infamous Cosa Nostra Dons. Family in his world is more than blood and sharing a last name. It’s the honor, respect, business, and the life. Being a Capo is just a stepping stone until it’s time for him to take on the role of underboss but a chance meeting with her could be the one thing he’d risk it all for.

She is exactly what he didn’t know he was looking for.

Jordyn Reese spends her time trying to stay under the radar of a man who wouldn’t think twice about killing her. Unwillingly affiliated with a dangerous MC gang, her life is dominated by the men surrounding her and her future rests solely in how useful she can be for them. The last thing she needs is some Mafioso gaining her more unwanted attention from the club.

He is everything she should stay away from but can’t.

Notoriously violent when it comes to getting what he wants, Lucian will stop at nothing to make the target on Jordyn’s back disappear. But sometimes the worst threats are the ones you can’t see until it’s too late. The truth behind Lucian’s history is about to take center stage in more ways than one, and it’ll either save him … or kill him.

This world leaves everyone a little filthy.

 

Out of the corners of his eyes, Lucian did see part of her bare shoulder and the black curls hiding her face, though. It wasn’t so much the amount of flesh she was showing as it was the peeks of what looked like a cherry blossom tattoo crawling over her shoulder and dipping down her back where it disappeared from his sight.

“Hello, guys. I’m Jordyn. I’ll be serving you tonight, or something close to it. What’ll it be?”

The sultry tone of her voice was something Lucian and his body noticed the moment she spoke. It was almost like a mixture of innocence and experience, if that were possible. She didn’t sound entirely bored, but she didn’t sound like she was in it to win it with her job, either.

Dante looked to his father, his earlier comment about not consuming the drinks being silently said again. Antony must have took note.

“A bottle of Jack, unopened. Four—” Antony stopped up short, his lips tugging down into a frown as he passed a glance towards Gio. The youngest brother certainly didn’t need to be drinking tonight. “Make that three glasses. We’ll pour.”

Leaning forward was the worst mistake Lucian made since waking up that day. He certainly hadn’t expected to see her again. At least not in a place like this. She was on his mind all damned week, those eyes of hers, cream-like flesh, and a mouth that just at the sight alone, make his own water.

What’d she call herself? Jordyn, was it?

Merda.

Shit was right—he was in so much of it.

Suddenly, Lucian was not in the zone like he needed to be.

He was so incredibly fucked.

Also, Lucian realized he was right about his first assumption when he thought she had ink under her dress that day at the confessional box. Cherry blossoms started somewhere beneath the lace and leather bottoms she wore and trailed up over her side, before crossing over her left breast which was also covered by nothing but a lace and leather brassiere, and then curved over her shoulder.

There was another tattoo, too, but in the darkness, Lucian couldn’t read the scripted words.

Strangely, the immediate rush of possessiveness that flooded his veins surprised him. She was still so beautiful, like crazy. The more skin his gaze crawled over, the tighter his pants became. Lucian caught himself wondering what those blossoms would taste like under his tongue.

Yeah, he was not where he needed to be. This unknown woman knocked him off kilter and she probably didn’t even know it. What was wrong with him?

Unfortunately, his father seemed to realize his son’s abrupt change in posture and mood. “Lucian?”

At the sound of his name, the girl’s—Jordyn, he reminded himself—eyes flashed to meet his in the corner, those dark lashes of hers blinking rapidly like she also didn’t believe what she was seeing. Lucian swallowed the thickness building in his throat. Thankfully, Jordyn didn’t act like they had ever met or seen one another before. She simply went on doing her own business.

“Unopened bottle of Jack and three glasses. Anything else?” she asked, avoiding Lucian’s piercing gaze.

“Yes,” Antony said, still watching Lucian closely. “The owner is Ron Daney, correct?”

Jordyn stood a little stiffer, her shoulders squaring. “I beg your pardon?”

“The owner is Ron Daney, Vice President of the Brooklyn chapter of The Sons of Hell,” Lucian said gruffly, trying to swallow back the huskiness forming. “We’re not ATF or the feds, let’s just be clear on that, sweetheart. Ron, he’s in tonight, yes?”

Jordyn nodded warily. “Always is.”

“Good,” Antony replied with a grin. “Send him a drink, whatever he likes. Do be sure to tell him it’s from a guest. Antony Marcello and his crew. Do not mistake my name when you tell him. Be sure to point me out so he sees me. Understood?”

“Got it.”

With that, the woman Lucian simply needed to glance at to turn his skin ablaze and his heart stuttering, was walking away.

She didn’t look back.

 

Filthy Marcellos:

La Cosa Nostra is not just a choice of regime and routine, it’s a culture. Born as mafia royalty, the Marcello brothers were raised ingrained with the beliefs and rules of what it meant to be a Mafioso prince. It is for life. Their status is considered a given right. They will always be these people. They will always be Marcellos.

 

Coming Soon
Giovanni, Book TwoGoodreads TBR
Dante, Book ThreeGoodreads TBR

 

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.Find her on Facebook, Twitter, her blog, Pinterest, Goodreads, or Amazon.

New from Rie Warren: Stone, At Your Service~Book 1 of Carolina Bad Boys

stone cover

<Nikka here: This was a sexy, fun, entertaining read that had me craving more of Miss Rie’s Carolina Bad Boys as soon as I finished Stone! I can’t wait to read Nicky’s book next.>

Stone, At Your Service
Carolina Bad Boys #1
Rie Warren
Contemporary Erotic Romance

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Hell on wheels meets hell in high heels.

Bad boy mechanic Josh Stone likes to get his hands dirty any way he can—the filthier, the better. Ever since his wife walked out on him and their young son, he’s only had room in his heart for two loves: the kid and cars.

Roped into playing his best buddy’s gay boyfriend during a romance writers convention, the player meets the girl who’s gonna rock his world. Leelee Songchild. Shy, bashful, beautiful Leelee who blushes at the drop of a hat yet writes hardcore smut to rival Josh’s backlist of Penthouse Forum.

The only problem is his hands are tied. Josh can’t stab his old friend/fake lover in the back even though all he wants to do is take luscious Leelee to bed, and maybe, love her. When the truth comes out, all hell breaks loose.

Too bad romance is just for books.

Ramada’s valet parking sucked balls and cost a mint. The hotel was lit up like a fairytale palace—or a whorehouse, depending how you looked at it–with people coming and going. It was busier than Stone’s before a holiday weekend, when everyone in the tri-counties seemed to get a flat tire. Bellhops wearing pained grins pushed wheeled-carts toppling over with boxes from the convention attendees through the carousel doors.

I wielded our cart into the lobby, following Nicky as he strolled up to the check-in desk. His demeanor changed the second we walked through the doors. Gone was the scrappy South Cackalackee bruiser who knew how to take a hit and knock a fucker to the ground. He rolled up the sleeves on his oxford twice, neatened his hair back into a slick knot, and greeted people with effortless charm.

While we stood in line and he made small talk here and there, a commotion at the back of the queue drew my attention. A gal wrangled with her cart and then watched—eyes and mouth open wide—as four boxes crashed to the floor. Books, dresses, shoes, wigs . . . lingerie swam onto the polished marble floor.

I noticed her cock-up with the cart first.

Her legs second.

Her tits third.

Her face last.

Holy fuck.

“Who the hell is that?” I whispered, pointing at the babe surrounded by ten tons of shit spilling all over the floor.
Nicky glanced over my shoulder. “No idea. New kid on the block, I guess.”

“I’m gonna go help her.” I shouldered through the crowd and squatted down before her. “Need a hand?” Because one thing Ma had taught me was always help out a woman in need.

She blew a tendril of the lightest red hair from her brow. “I’d sure appreciate it.”

And I was a goner.

I packed her stuff back up under her guidance and stacked it smartly onto the cart, willing myself not to look at her as I stepped back. Definitely not remembering the lace, the frills, the full-on feminine lingerie I’d handled.

“My knight in shinin’ armor?”

Shaking my head, I backed away. I saw Nicky at the elevators, waiting for me. “Not really, miss.”

New kid on the block. There was nothing kid-like about her. She was voluptuous, a handful from hips to hourglass waist to perfect breasts. The southern drawling miss in a knee-length skirt and clinging top didn’t seem to know she’d made my cock railroad-spike hard. I walked away, mesmerized by her feminine-fuck-me appearance up to her goddamn adorable face. A killer combination. Full throttle attraction the likes of which I’d never felt made my head spin, my heart speed.

And there was no way I could act on it because I’d just signed up for five and a half days of Gaydom at the Rom Con.

unnamed-1

Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavor, the Carolina Bad Boys series, is fun, hot, and southern-sexy.

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.

You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency.

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