Month: April 2018

The Last King by Katee Robert

April 3, 2018

THE LAST KING

Beckett and Samara’s story is now available!

Ultra wealthy and super powerful, the King family is like royalty in Texas. But who will keep the throne? New York Times bestselling author Katee Robert introduces a red-hot new series.

Keep reading to get a sneak peek excerpt and enter the giveaway for one of ten (10) print copies of THE LAST KING!

Title: The Last King

Author: Katee Robert

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: April 3, 2018

Publisher: Forever

Series: The Kings

Page Count: 336 pages

Format: Digital

ASIN: B074M69QLF

ISBN: 978-1455597109

THE MAN SHE HATES TO LOVE

Beckett King just inherited his father’s fortune, his company-and all his enemies. If he’s going to stay on top, he needs someone he can trust beside him. And though they’ve been rivals for years, there’s no one he trusts more than Samara Mallick.

The rebel. That’s how Samara has always thought of Beckett. And he’s absolutely living up to his unpredictable ways when he strides into her office and asks for help. She can’t help wondering if it’s a legit request or just a ploy to get her into bed. Not that she’d mind either one. After all, she likes to live on the edge too.

But soon the threats to the King empire are mounting, and the two find family secrets darker than they ever imagined and dangerous enough to get them both killed.

Praise for The Last King:

“Top Pick! Beckett and Samara are a fantastic, modern couple. They clash in the boardroom and the bedroom, are total equals, and their bring-it-on spirit makes every interaction lively and exciting — whether clothes are on or off. … The heart of this romance is the development of trust between Beckett and Samara, and Robert expertly unfolds it, revealing the emotional connection on both sides under the flash and fire of their irresistible chemistry. 4 1/2 stars.”—RT Book Reviews

Available at:

Amazon: http://bit.ly/TheLastKingAmazon

B&N: http://bit.ly/TheLastKingBN

iTunes: http://bit.ly/TheLastKingiTunes

Kobo: http://bit.ly/TheLastKingKobo

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The Last King Excerpt

Heaven was Samara in a little green dress.

Beckett watched her walk across the lobby, her mile-long legs eating up the distance with ease. That glimpse of wildness she’d given him last night was in full effect today, her hair a mass of black waves that seemed to curl and snap around her shoulders with each step. Her dress fitted her like a second skin, sloping down over her breasts, her stomach, to her hips and thighs.

But it was her dark eyes that drew and held him. Anger and desire and something like guilt lingered there, and she held his gaze as she stopped in front of him. “Do I meet your expectation?”

“You’re beautiful.”

She arched a single eyebrow. “I know.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. Beckett turned to the elevator bank and offered his elbow. The gentlemanly move was over-the-top for their current circumstances, but he couldn’t be this close to her without touching her. Kissing her now, here, was a terrible damn idea, so he’d settle for the small touch. “No false modesty. I like that.”

“I think we’ve established that I don’t operate based on what you like.” Despite her words, amusement pulled at the edges of her lips, and she set her hand carefully on his forearm. “Every time I think I have your number down, you surprise me. Most guys get pissy pants if a woman doesn’t fall at their feet when they call her beautiful.”

“I’m not most guys.” He waited for the elevator door to open and led her onto it. “You can’t fit me into a box and write me off, Samara.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” She shook her head, her hair brushing against his shoulder. “My life would be a whole lot easier if I could.”

He couldn’t argue that, so he didn’t bother. Beckett took them up to the executive level. He noted the way she studied everything, obviously filing away every bit of information she could lay her eyes on. “What does Lydia pay you these days?”

She dropped her arm and stepped back. “Oh no. I don’t think so.” She pointed at him. “We went over this last night. I’m not for sale.”

“It’s an innocent question.”

“It is most definitely not an innocent question.” She looked like she wanted to take off her shoe and throw it at his head. “I don’t care what issue you and your aunt have. I’m not part of it. You don’t get to use me as leverage. I’m not a pawn for either of you to sacrifice in this pissing match you have going on.”

Shame tried to take hold, but he wouldn’t let it. Samara knew the game, no matter how much it apparently offended her. “I’m the bad guy for trying to offer you a job, but I’m sure you agreed to show up here solely out of the goodness of your heart.” He pretended to think about it. “Wait, no you didn’t—which you already admitted. You’re here because Lydia wants to do whatever it takes to sink Morningstar. Full stop.” He motioned at the offices behind him. “Wake up, Samara. I’m only playing the game she made the rules for.”

She took in the empty COO office on the other side of the glass wall. “She poached your employees.”

“Convenient timing, don’t you think?”

“You’re not still harping on that paranoid talk about Lydia meeting Nathaniel.” Samara hesitated and then moved to stand in front of him. She pressed her lips together and then very gently said, “Do you think maybe it’s a good idea for you to talk to someone?”

Beckett jerked back. “What?”

There was nothing but sympathy in her dark eyes. “I’m serious, Beckett. I’ve known you a long time, at least by reputation, and this delusion you have going isn’t like you. Is it possible that Nathaniel’s death is hitting you harder than you realize? That you’re fixating on Lydia instead of your own grief because it’s easier to deal with an enemy than face the fact you can never make things right with your father?”

Every word flayed him, cutting to the quick. Beckett gritted his teeth against the need to tell Samara that she was the one who wasn’t thinking clearly. To yell. To expel some of the ugliness that had been brewing in him for a very, very long time. “I didn’t call you here to offer you a job, and I sure as hell don’t need a shrink.”

She stood her ground as he advanced. Her heels put them at the same height and she still managed to look down her nose at him. “Then why did you call me here?”

Because I can’t spend another moment alone without going out of my mind.

He didn’t say it. To admit how long it had been since he’d felt a connection with another person was to hand Samara—Lydia—a loaded gun and invite her to point it directly at him. He didn’t answer her verbally at all. Beckett cupped her waist and slowly pulled her against him, giving her plenty of time to register his intentions.

“Beckett.” Despair colored her tone and she gave a desperate laugh. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” Using a hand on the small of her back, he pressed her firmly against him. “I don’t want to stop.”

Samara hesitated, but finally placed her hands gingerly against his chest. He waited, letting her decide. Yes or no. Push or pull. Stay or go. She hitched a breath. “I don’t want to stop, either.”

About Katee Robert

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title, The Marriage Contract, was a RITA finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it ‘a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension.” When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter| GoodReads | Instagram

Blood Will Tell by Colleen Myers

April 2, 2018

Ever wonder what would happen if TWILIGHT met DIVERGENT? Find out Colleen Myers’s BLOOD WILL TELL, book 1 in her new Blood Series!

Title: Blood Will Tell

Author: Colleen Myers

Genre: YA Dystopian/Fantasy

Series: Blood, Book 1

Release Date: April 2, 2018

Format: Digital eBook

ISBN: TBD

Unbeknownst to eighteen-year old Isabelle, her dad inserted a vital DNA sequence into her blood that made her resistant to the Immortalus virus, but unlocked other capabilities that prove to be the key to the war between the human and vampire race.

Exclusively on Amazon and available with Kindle Unlimited!

Add Blood Will Tell to your GOODREADS TBR pile!

About Colleen:

Colleen S. Myers was raised in a large catholic family in the outskirts of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where she grew up on Harlequin teen romances and stories from her mother’s days as a paramedic. She went on to attend Allegheny College majoring in Biology and English.

After college, Colleen spent a year in service in the Americorp giving back to the community at a local Pittsburgh Women Infants and Children Clinic (WICC) before attending Kirksville College of Osteopathic Medicine on a military scholarship.

Upon completing medical school, Colleen attended residency at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland and was on base in Washington, DC during 9/11. She earned three meritorious service awards from the military. After serving seven years of active duty, she promptly landed a position at the VA to provide fellow veterans with optimum medical care. Still an avid fan of romances into adulthood, her love of the genre inspired her to hone her craft as a writer, focusing on contemporary romance and science fiction. Her background in medicine and the military provides an inspiring layer of creative realism to her stories and characters.

Her first book, Must Remember, the first book in the Solum series, is published by Champagne Press. The sequel, Can’t Forget, coming in June 2016, is the recipient of the 2015 RWA New England Readers Award.

Colleen currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her husband and son, and spends her spare time writing. She is also working on a new contemporary romance.

Connect with Colleen: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

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Act of Revenge by Dale Brown

April 2, 2018

FTC: I received a free copy of this book from Partners In Crime Book Tours in exchange for my honest review. I received no other compensation and the opinions expressed in this review are one hundred percent true and my own.

Act of Revenge by Dale Brown was a book that I wasn’t sure if I was going to like, but I ended up loving the book. I found it very ironic that I was reading this book Easter weekend because that is when this book starts. I have never read any books by this author before, and I don’t know that I have read a book in this genre either and this one made me want to read more. I loved that the author gave us a list of the characters and a little bit of the backstory for each of them. I liked this because it meant he could jump in with the story and I didn’t feel lost or confused about who was who. I also loved that I was able to go back and look at it again if I forgot how the characters were related to each other. I can’t say enough good things about this book, and I can’t wait to read more books by this author in the future. I think that anyone who loves thrillers would enjoy this book just as much as I did.

About The Book

Genre: Thriller
Published by: William Morrow
Publication Date: January 30th 2018
Number of Pages: 528
ISBN: 0062411322 (ISBN13: 9780062411327)
Series: Puppet Master #2

Grab Act of Revenge on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, HarperCollins, and add it to your Goodreads list!

When terrorists attack Boston, Louis Massina races against time to save the city with a high-tech counteroffensive . . .

On Easter Sunday morning, the city of Boston is struck by a widespread and coordinated series of terrorist attacks: an explosion in the T, a suicide bomber at Back Bay Police Station, and heavily armed gunmen taking hostages at the Patriot Hotel.

For robotics innovator Louis Massina, aka the Puppet Master, this is far more personal than a savage act of political terrorism. Boston is his city—and one of his employees, Chelsea Goodman, is among the hostages facing certain death. As Chelsea fights from the inside, Massina leads his team of tech geniuses at Smart Metal to deploy every bot, drone, and cyber weapon at their disposal to defeat the fanatics and save his city and friend.

That’s step one. Step two: Find the twisted mastermind behind the attacks and make him pay.

About The Author

Dale Brown is the New York Times bestselling author of numerous books, from Flight of the Old Dog (1987) in 1987, to, most recently, Iron Wolf (2015). A former U.S. Air Force captain, he can often be found flying his own plane over the skies of Nevada. Jim DeFelice is the co-author of the #1 New York Times bestseller American Sniper. DeFelice is the author of Omar Bradley: General at War, the first in-depth critical biography of America’s last five-star general. He also writes a number of acclaimed military thrillers, including the Rogue Warrior series from Richard Marcinko, founder of SEAL Team 6, and the novels in the Dreamland series with Dale Brown.

Catch Up With Our Dale Brown On his Website, Goodreads Page, Twitter, & Facebook Page!

Let’s Be Friends

Read An Excerpt

Flash forward

Boston, Easter Sunday High noon

Louis Massina paced back and forth in the small high-security area, worried, anxious, and
angry. But most of all, impotent. Boston was under attack.

The lives of dozens, maybe hundreds, of his friends were directly threatened. One of his closest employees, a young woman with tremendous promise, was among the hostages. Maybe even dead.

And all he could do, for all his money, for all his inventions—his robots, his drones, his computers, his software—was walk back and forth, trying desperately to suppress what could not be suppressed.

Anger. Rage. The enemy of reason, yet the core of his being, at least at this moment. There were other alternatives. Prayer, for one. Prayer is impotence. Prayer is surrender.

The nuns who taught him would slap his face for thinking that. They held the exact opposite: Prayer was strength, tenfold. But while in many ways Massina was a man of faith, he had never been much given to prayer. In his mind, actions spoke more effectively than words.

Prayers were all well and good, but they worked—if they worked at all—on a realm other than human. And the action needed now was completely human. Not even the Devil himself could have concocted the evil his city faced.

Light flashed in the center of the far-right monitor.

“They’re going in,” said the operator watching the hotel where Massina’s employee had been taken hostage. The light had come from a small explosion at the side of the building. “They’re going in.”

Almost in spite of himself, Massina started to pray.

Two hours earlier

Boston, Massachusetts Easter Sunday morning

There were few better hotels in Boston than the Patriot Hotel if you wanted to soak up the city’s history: city hall was practically next door, Faneuil five minutes away. You could catch a trolley for the Old Town tour a block or two down the street. Bunker Hill was a hike, but then the British had found that out as well. The rooms were expensive—twice what they would go for at similarly appointed hotels nearby—but money had never been a major concern for Victoria Goodman, Chelsea Goodman’s favorite aunt. Victoria had gotten a job as a secretary for Microsoft very soon after it started, and when she cashed out her stock in the early 1990s, invested in real estate in and around San Francisco, most notably Palo Alto and Menlo Park—the future homes of Facebook and Google. Victoria had that kind of luck.

Despite her luck, and her money, Victoria was especially easygoing, self-assured yet casual. She met Chelsea in the hotel lobby wearing a blue-floral draped dress that showed off toned upper arms and legs that remained trim and shapely despite the fact that she had recently passed sixty.

“Just on time,” declared Victoria, folding Chelsea to her chest. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I wouldn’t mind breakfast,” answered Chelsea.

“How far did you run this morning?”

“It’s not the distance, it’s the attitude,” replied Victoria. “Only five miles. But it felt wonderful. It’s so marvelous running through the city.”

“You’ll have to try for the Marathon.”

“Those days are gone, dear,” said Victoria lightly. “I’d never qualify. But thank you for the thought. You didn’t bring your young friend?”

“We’ll meet her at the Aquarium,” Chelsea said. “She had to go to church with her dad.”

“Well, it is Easter.”

“Actually, they’re Russian Orthodox, so it’s Palm Sunday. He’s a single father, and lately he’s been trying to instill religion in her.”

Chelsea followed Victoria across the paneled lobby to the restaurant entrance, where a maître d’ greeted them with a nod. He had a fresh white rose in his lapel and the manner of someone who’d been looking forward to this encounter the entire morning. He showed the two women to a seat at the far end of the room, then asked if they would care for something to drink while they looked at the menus.

“Mimosas,” said Victoria. “And coffee.”

“Mimosas?” asked Chelsea.

“Why not? You don’t have to work today, and champagne always puts me in the mood for sightseeing.”

Chelsea was just about to ask how exactly that worked when a loud crack shook the room. The metallic snap was followed by two more, each louder than the other. The noise was unfamiliar to most of the people in the restaurant, but Chelsea had lately had a singular experience that not only made the sound familiar, but warned her subconscious that there was great danger nearby.

She leaped up from her seat, and before her aunt could respond, had grabbed her and pushed her to the floor.

“Someone is shooting!” Chelsea told Victoria as the crack of a fresh round of bullets echoed against the deep wood panels of the room. “We have to get out of here!”

Dead Air by Cliff Protzman

April 1, 2018

FTC: I received a free copy of this book from Partners In Crime in exchange for my honest review. I received no other compensation and the opinions expressed in this review are one hundred percent true and my own.

Dead Air by Cliff Protzman was a very interesting book, but it wasn’t one that kept me on the edge of my seat while I was reading it. That didn’t bother me though because I am loving books like this one that I don’t have to take to serious and I can put them down for a while and come back to them when I need to escape from what is going on in my life. I would love to read more books by this author especially if they involve some of the characters from this book in them. If I am being honest I couldn’t stand Gerry from the first time you meet her right through the end of the book and I can’t pin point why, but I think it is always a good thing when authors can make me hate characters. It shows me that the characters came to life for me and I always enjoy when authors can write like that. I am sure that you will enjoy this book if you love a good mystery book to read.

About The Book

Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Suspense
Published by: Indie
Publication Date: October 2017
Number of Pages: 308
ISBN: 1545607141 (ISBN13: 9781545607145)
Don’t Miss Your Chance to Purchase Dead Air from: Amazon & Barnes & Noble! Plus add it to your Goodreads list!

Dead Air signals trouble at the radio station. Glenn Beckert discovers his high school best friend is shot in the head while on the air. Beck, the owner of Blue Water Security, is employed to provide security for the station.

He becomes willingly embroiled in the investigation by the not-so-innocent widow. The list of potential suspects is long, gleaned from the numerous extramarital affairs of the victim and widow. The pending sale of the radio station has created friction between his now dead friend, Richie Zito and the major stockholders. Motives for murder becomes increasingly murky after the search reveals an encrypted file on Zito’s laptop.

Beck enlists the help of a friend from college, Irene Schade, to break the code, revealing a money laundering network leading to the financial and political powers of his beloved city of Pittsburgh. Their collaboration ignites the flames of passion each had considered extinguished.

A former college teammate, police Lieutenant Paglironi delivers a message to back off. Arrogantly, he ignores his friend’s advice. The threats from less friendly sources are more ominous, forcing Beck to move in an unfamiliar world. A startling revelation from his client forces Beck to deal with his inner conviction of right and wrong, challenging the gray areas of his ethical principles. Betraying his client’s confidence could expose the killer. The alternative is to confront the suspect and take matters into his own hands. Either way his life is in jeopardy.

About The Author

Cliff was born and raised in Pittsburgh, PA. Cliff’s family relocated to Northeast Ohio when he was in high school. Immediately after graduation he returned to his hometown to attend the University of Pittsburgh. Cliff planned to major in journalism and write the great American novel. Instead, he switched to Business Administration and began a 30-year career in accounting and finance.

Cliff rekindled his passion for writing acquired as a reporter for his school newspaper. He published his first novel, DEAD AIR: a Glenn Beckert Mystery in September 2017. Cliff also writes short stories. He was a winner in the Unfinished Chapters anthology in 2015. Cliff is a member of the Mystery Writers of America and Pennwriters.

Catch Up With Our Author On His Website cliffprotzman.com, Goodreads, Twitter, & Facebook!

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Let’s Be Friends

Read an excerpt

Dead Air. It was the most unforgivable of sins. I was standing at the bar in Jergel’s Rhythm Grille in Warrendale, PA when the overhead sound system finished blaring “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida,” the seventeen-minute, two-second version, then dove into silence… and stayed there.

Minutes crawled past while WZOC, better known as Z-Rock to Pittsburgh-area listeners, remained silent. The long version of the Iron Butterfly song was played when DJs need extended bathroom time. Apparently, it was not enough time.

The seventeen-thousand-square-foot bar and restaurant was beginning to fill up. The stage hands scrambled over the stage in a well-orchestrated dance as they prepared the stage at the rear of the building. I was at the front bar, one of six serving the customers. The crowd noise increased due to the silent overhead system. The bartenders and service personnel went about their jobs, oblivious to the lack of music. I appeared to be the only person who noticed it. The dead air was an unexpected lapse for a normally proficient staff at Z-Rock. The station owned by my high school best friend, had been my first client, so I was always glad when the bar staff piped it in to provide background noise.

A Pittsburgh favorite, The Clarks, were scheduled to take the stage in forty-five minutes. Their classic rock style was often compared to Tom Petty. Z-Rock had introduced The Clarks to the Pittsburgh market, and it remained a strong supporter of the band. They had parlayed the station’s promotion into a broader following along the Southern Atlantic states. The quartet was almost as well-known in the city as the Pittsburgh Steelers’ starting lineup. I had had the great fortune to see many of their local performances.

Before heading to the front door, I finished my IC Light, a low- calorie brew from Pittsburgh Brewing. The bartender grabbed my empty bottle and asked, “Another one, Beck?”

“No thanks; probably later.” I headed toward the entrance, featuring solid wood double doors, the left side closed to restrain the incoming crowd. The line stretched outside beyond my view.

My firm was in charge of crowd control for the event. Even though I was on duty tonight, my plan was to be more of a spectator.

In my earpiece, I heard my site manager of Jergel’s security, Lance Parisi. “Beck, we have a problem at the front door. This patron is drunk and belligerent. He may be armed. I’m trying to get him to leave.”

I replied, “On my way.” As the owner of Blue Water Security, I was always glad to help with situations like these. I tried to hire only the best, so backing them with my support was always a pleasure.

An obviously intoxicated man was pointing a finger at Lance who had to be at least six inches taller than the swaying man. “You fucking asshole! I have a ticket! You can’t keep me out!” I heard the word motherfucker and that was that. This wasn’t going to end well for the drunken ticket holder.

In my mouthpiece, I said, “Stay cool, Lance. He’s all talk,” but before I could arrive, the man took a swing at Lance. So much for my expert analysis. In one quick movement, Lance had the man’s right arm twisted behind his back, Lance’s left arm firmly around his neck in a choke hold.

I rushed to Lance’s side. The man’s open coat displayed the butt of a gun in his waistband. I jerked the .38 Special from his belt holster and turned to look him in the eyes. The combined stink of beer and whiskey oozed from him.

Adrenaline was pumping through my body as if facing a 3-2 pitch. I regained my composure before speaking in a calm, determined voice. “Sir, even with a concealed carry permit, it is illegal to bring a gun into a bar, especially when you are intoxicated.” The other patrons waiting to enter had backed away when they saw the gun. “The man with his arm around your neck is going to escort you to the office. The police will be called. I hope you have your permit with you. You can walk to the office quietly. If not, I’m certain Lance will find a way to get you there. Is that clear?”

The man nodded as best he could with Lance’s muscular arm wrapped around his neck. Lance released his stranglehold, keeping a firm grip on the man’s arm. I handed the gun to my employee. The drunk remained calm and allowed Lance to lead him away. Using my mic, I paged Jason Weaver, who had been assigned to dance floor security for the night, to come to the front door.

I remained at the door, checking tickets for the anxious concert fans, until Jason appeared. It was then I realized there was still silence coming from the sound system. The normal professionalism of Z-Rock’s staff made me wonder about the cause of the extended silence. I could imagine engineers scrambling to locate and repair whatever technical problems had occurred.

Jason arrived, assuming Lance’s position at the door. I turned back to the bar as my cell phone rang. “Glenn Beckert,” I answered.

“This is John Waner at Z-Rock.” He paused and I wondered if I was truly surprised to be hearing from my security guard at the station. His voice was high-pitched, his words rushed as he said, “There’s a big problem here.”

“John, what’s the problem?”

“Beck… H-He’s… I don’t know what to do. R-Richie’s been murdered.”

***