Tuesday 30 July 2019

Book Blitz: Jake by Carla Swafford



Romantic Suspense
Date Published: May 2019

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Forget the Hatfields and McCoys, in a small Southern town, the Whitfields and Tallys are the real family feud. So for some unholy reason, Jake Whitfield’s old man and Angel Tally’s grandfather wrote codicils to their wills the night before they died in a suspicious fire. The codicils require Jake and Angel to marry or lose their inheritances.

Jake feels like a man with two faces. One he presents to his brothers and the public: the criminal willing to step on anyone for a buck while mercilessly protecting the business. The other: the lonely man wanting a better life for himself and his family and working with an FBI agent to make it happen.

To Jake, marrying Angel makes sense. With her family’s help, he can fight the new criminal organization that’s moving into his town. Immersed in the criminal world, there is no hope for Angel, but her brother is still young. She will do anything to protect him from that way of life and whoever killed their grandfather, even marry a despised Whitfield. And Angel never forgot about the sexy incident with Jake in high school ten years earlier.And if she has to go along with a Whitfield-Tally marriage, she wants a replay.





Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE


“I hope you rot in hell, old man.”

Jake Whitfield leaned over the grave and spit as his father’s casket slowly disappeared into the blackness. When a violent shudder brought the crank to an abrupt stop, he shot a sideways glare at the cemetery worker.

The man wiped a sweaty forehead on the upper sleeve of his faded gray uniform and kicked the contraption. “Stupid old thing,” he muttered as he avoided Jake’s gaze.

With a painful screech, the device started up again, rattling and jumping, and finally a solid thud came from the hole as it reached the bottom. If he believed in ghosts, he’d swear the hateful bastard wanted out to kill him.

Jake’s attention fell on the mourners surrounding the gravesite.

Their jackets flapped in the hot wind like vultures settling around a carcass as most of the men stared at the ground beneath their feet. No one looked into his face. Though the minister shook his head at Jake’s disrespect, he and the others didn’t say a word. They understood his hatred. Everyone who attended would love to do the same, if they had the backbone. All were business associates and most came not so much to grieve for the man’s death, but to receive assurance that his dad had died.

Many of the people in Sand County owed Dick Whitfield their livelihood and endured his heavy-handed manipulations, but none suffered as much as the Whitfield brothers. The old man had reveled in tormenting his bastard sons more than he did his associates. Besides their last name, the old man refused to give the boys anything without a deal or concession involved. Then again, maybe an agreement had been made when they were born, a bargain with the devil for their souls.

Releasing a snarl, Jake turned and nodded at his brothers. Townsend—or Sen, as he was known—and Ethan fell in step beside him as they headed toward the old man’s white limo idling next to the curb. No one said a word.

Another gust of wind tugged at their jackets. A bouquet of dead flowers blew across their path to become stuck between an urn and headstone.

Behind dark sunglasses, Jake scanned the area. Tension from the funeral and a gut feeling warned that danger lurked. Nothing appeared strange or out of place. But life with the old man had taught him to be extremely cautious whenever emotions ran high. With new leadership at Whitfield Industries taking over, many of the smaller players wanted a part of the business and conspired to oust the brothers. He knew without a doubt, no one would take one brick or dollar without a fight. After years of being under the old man’s rule, they deserved every piece of his ill-gotten money and property. They each had worked hard and often for pennies compared to others who worked for the old man and did far less.

He glanced around again without being obvious. The old cemetery covered acres of well-tended plots that held numerous large memorials and oak trees. Several people headed toward their cars while others remained near the burial site, talking and gesturing toward the grave being filled. In the distance, he heard traffic swooshing by, but strangely, the birds stopped chirping in the swaying limbs.

Steps away from the limo with the chauffeur waiting inside, Jake passed a life-size marble statue. The head exploded, spraying chunks of the white stuff. The confirming snap of gunfire sent everyone running for cover. Screams and shouts of concern punctuated by more shots echoed around him as he scrambled for the other side of the limo, its bulletproof body offering better protection than a tree or headstone. He motioned for his brothers to follow. In no time they hunkered down with guns in hands.

“Damn! Who do you think it is? Some asshole out to get Jake for sleeping with his girlfriend?” Ethan sat on the ground with his back near the car’s engine, watching for anyone coming from behind.

In his usual calm manner, Sen checked his Beretta and then edged closer to the taillights. “Probably the girlfriend.”

His brothers loved to rag him about how his last girlfriend had another guy on the side. When he kicked her out of his home, she must have told the other boyfriend a tall tale as the dumbass came at him with a gun. It almost became messy. When the boyfriend realized whose door he had knocked on, the poor dude drove out of town so fast he left rubber on the road for a half mile.

Jake shook his head and white dust fell around him. His forehead stung. A light touch came back with blood. He’d been nicked. “Most likely someone who’s wanting to take over the old man’s businesses,” he said as he ignored his brothers’ comments. “Or possibly the person who set the fire.” Leaning over, he ruffled his hair, showering the ground with powder and bits of stone.

He sneered. They’d already received warnings that someone outside the county planned to make a move soon. He hadn’t expected it to be at the cemetery. The old man was barely cold in the ground.

Several more shots zipped by and dug into the asphalt a few feet away. Followed shortly by a couple more over their heads.

Damn! They needed to concentrate on stopping the sniper. Normal people ran and kept moving when fired upon, but no, not the Whitfield boys. Maybe he and his brothers were as insane as the bastard they buried.

Sen nodded to where the road looped into the cemetery near the interstate fence. “I think the shots are coming from that direction. See the old rusted-out black van?”

“Yeah.” Ethan peeked over the limo’s hood.

“The sliding door is cracked opened. You think he’s still in there? The smart thing for a shooter to do is leave with the crowd.” Jake referred to the mourners cranking automobiles and screeching tires on their way out.

“I’ll go around and come up on the opposite side.” Without wasting time, Sen stooped low and ran alongside the cars parked by the curb.

Jake shook his head. He always wondered if his middle brother had a death wish. “Tick!”

The rotund driver inside the limo rolled down the window, showing only the top of his pale bald head and large blood-shot eyes. “Yeah, boss?”

“Scoot over. I’m coming in.”

“Sure, boss.”

“You get in the back.” Jake nodded at Ethan. With a jab, he returned his gun to its holster beneath his jacket.

“Sure, boss,” his brother said, mimicking Tick.

In seconds, they eased the limo down the lane toward the van. Jake caught a glimpse of Sen dashing behind a tree a few yards away. Then the side door on the van slammed shut, and a figure dressed in black jumped into the driver’s seat. No way would he let the asshole escape. He flatfooted the gas pedal and the old limo T-boned the van.

The crunch of metal and broken glass rang in Jake’s ears as he pushed hard on the door and sprinted to the other side. Two fellows ran for the trees. He tackled the nearest one as Sen sprinted after the faster, smaller one.

“You son of a bitch!” Jake flipped him over. Fist pulled back to slug the sniper, he stopped. “Sally? Sally Tally?”

Light green eyes in the middle of dark liner and eye shadow glared up at him. Chin length ebony hair tipped blood red stuck to a sweaty pale face. A grimace stretched her crimson lips lined in black as she waited for the downward swing.

He lowered his arm and examined her clothes. No wonder he’d mistaken her for a guy from the back. She wore an ankle-length leather coat with thick-soled biker boots buckled to her knees, the tight black pants tucked in. The only feminine clothing was the stiff red corset holding up plump, creamy white breasts, heaving with each intake of breath.

“No one calls me Sally anymore. Call me Angel.”

The last time he’d heard that husky voice, they had been teenagers, and she’d stolen his wallet. He’d retaliated by turning her over his knee, lifting her short skirt, and giving her nearly bare bottom a good sound spanking. During the chastisement, an unexpected dilemma had emerged. He remembered how much he enjoyed it. Way too much.


About the Author

Carla Swafford loves romance novels, action/adventure movies, and men, and her books reflect that. And that’s not all, she’s crazy about hockey, and thankfully, no one has made her turn in her Southern Belle card. She’s married to her high school sweetheart and lives in Alabama.


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Monday 29 July 2019

Cover Reveal: Teresa Mathews - 13 Steps to the Cellar


Mystery
Date Published: September 4, 2019
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing

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Thirteen Steps to the Cellar. They were steep; they were narrow—but was a fall down them enough to have caused the twenty-seven deep lacerations to her aunt’s head? 

Callie Harris travels from her home in Alabama to her aunt’s former mansion in Maine to unravel the haunting forty-year-old mystery of Dr. Laverne Harris Doss’ brutal death.

Why wasn’t a murder weapon found? Was her uncle justly convicted of the killing? Was his mistress involved? Or was the murderer the bearded stranger rumored to have arrived by train that night?

In the charming town of Richmond, located on the banks of Maine’s historic Kennebec River, Callie uncovers the community’s darkest secrets—a botched police investigation, a betrayed widow’s lie, a dead woman’s blackmail, and a wealthy philanthropist’s shame. The web of intrigue extends far beyond her suspicions and its connection to her personal story pierces Callie to her core.


About the Author

TERESA MATHEWS is a graduate of The University of South Alabama.  She’s a member of the Mobile Writers Guild and serves on the Board of Directors for the Alabama Nursery and Landscape Association.

An avid gardener and artist, she has multiple book covers to her credit. Several years ago after visiting the site of her real-life aunt’s murder, Teresa discovered a third passion–storytelling. Although inspired by an actual tragedy, Thirteen Steps to the Cellar is fiction.

Raised on the Gulf Coast, Teresa, her husband, and son now live on a farm with a second home on the sparkling white sands of Fort Morgan, Alabama. This is her first novel.

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Friday 26 July 2019

What's new? Summer 2019 update




It been a while since I’ve posted anything about my own writing so thought I’d dive right in today with a brief update on what I’m up too.  It's absolutely sweltering here in the UK as I write this. We're in the middle of an extreme heatwave with the thermometer telling me it's 31 degrees celcius in the house. It seems like an age since Anthem of Survival was published last December. I haven’t been idle in that time; it just seems that way.

Big news first, my next book will be published in the spring of 2020 by Pride Publishing. Never Too Famous will be the first in an on-going series of novellas exploring success and the lengths people are willing to go to achieve and sustain it. I don’t want to say too much as it’s still a way off but Never Too Famous was a fun book to write. It’s set in the world of reality TV and is filled with great characters – stars and wannabees – with a hot romance right at the core. I can’t wait to reveal more. I’ve just outlined the second and third stories and will start writing them in the next couple of weeks.

Right now, I’m putting the finishing touches to a standalone novel, which has been my primary focus for the first half of 2019. This has been a very rewarding book to write. The setting in my native North East England and it explores the dangers and romance for a crew of lifeboat volunteers. I expect to have this ready for submission in another week or two and will share any further developments as they happen.

That’s pretty much were I am right now; finishing off one book with the next two planned. That will occupy me nicely until the end of the year. I’d also like to write a couple of short stories in the downtime between drafts of the larger books, with a view to putting them out in 2020. While 2019 has been quiet on the publishing front, I’ve got lots of good things planned that will make 2020 extra special.

It hasn’t been all work. I went on an amazing cruise in June, sailing all around Iceland. Probably the best holiday I’ve ever taken. Iceland is the most incredible place, and in the height of summer with twenty-four-hour day light, it was really something special. While a cruise was a great way to see a lot of the country, I feel like we barely scratched the surface of the place. I can’t wait to go back one day and explore in greater depth.

In September I’m off again, this time sailing around the Baltic and visiting a lot of new places for the first time; Helsinki, Russia, Denmark, Sweden. I can’t wait. I’m sure I’ll get plenty of inspiration for future romances.


One of the best things I’ve watched this summer has been the Netflix revival of Tales of the City. I approached this with initial caution, being a huge fan of the books and the original TV series, but I needn’t have worried. The new show is outstanding. I fell in love with the characters all over again, so much so I’ve gone back to re-read the books. Some of the cast of the original show are back and others have been recast but it works so well. I’m crazy about Michael Toliver, played this time by Murray Bartlett. I always loved the character of Michael but there is something about seeing him now as a middle-aged man that really speaks to me. Don’t miss it this fantastic show.
Stay safe and enjoy the rest of the summer.


Thursday 25 July 2019

Book Blitz: C. Sablan Gault - The Quonset in Tutujan


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Historical Romance
Date Published: October 2018
Publisher: Xlibris

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The Quonset in Tutujan is the sequel to A Mansion on the Moon, the story of transition through three wars -- from a Spanish colony to an American territory before and after Japanese occupation in World War II -- following the lives of three native Chamorro women, a teenager, her illegitimate daughter, and her granddaughter, and the men who loved them. For Vivian, the granddaughter, who falls for an American naval officer well above her station, the impossible becomes possible. Despite tremendous obstacles, he returns to Guam to search for and marry her. And to take to New York to meet his wealthy conservative family.



Other Books by C. Sablan Gault:




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A Mansion on the Moon: A Guam Love Story
 Publisher: Author Lair



The lives of Amanda de Leon, her daughter Sylvia, and granddaughter Vivian unfold during the turbulent years in Guam between the Spanish-American War and World War II. Amanda falls for an American sailor who leaves her with child. Sylvia, the illegitimate half-breed, grows up in shame but finds love with Constantino Camacho. Their daughter Vivian vows not to make her grandmother's mistake. Then Philip Averyenters her life. He isanavy lieutenant, handsomeand wealthy, like a storybook mansion, but as distant from Vivian's racial and cultural reality as the moon. Despite their differences, Philip falls for Vivian, but tragedy and the war intervene.






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About the Author

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Catherine Sablan Gault worked as a reporter for a Guam newspaper then served as press secretary and communications director for a Guam governor, legislator, and Guam's delegate to the U.S. House of Representatives. She retired in 2008 and wrote her novels for the fun of it.




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Tuesday 23 July 2019

Cover Reveal: Dark Justice by Angela Smith


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Romantic Suspense / Contemporary Romance
Date Published: September 17, 2019

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She’s in love with her sister’s killer...
Lauren has loved Luke since first grade. They planned to marry—until he murdered her sister. The moment he was sentenced to prison, Lauren fled with her secret baby and made a new life. Now she’ll do anything to keep their daughter safe. But her hard won peace shatters when Luke is exonerated, and it sets her on a path of mixed emotions to discover the truth. Letting a killer into their tightly knit family is out of the question. Or is it?

She almost destroys her life by threatening his…
Prison stole his future with Lauren and twelve years of Luke’s life, so the last thing he needs from her is a knife in the back or a gun in his face. Lauren believes he killed her sister, and he has no plans to pick up where they left off. Luke can’t afford to trust her, but he wants nothing more than to convince her he’s worth fighting for.

Their daughter is in danger…
Luke is heartbroken when he learns they had a child together. Now his daughter is in danger. Lauren trusted the wrong person for far too long, but he hopes she’ll now trust him. Luke will risk everything to keep them safe. And Lauren will risk everything if she lets him into her heart.



About the Author

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Angela Smith is a Texas native who, years ago, was dubbed most likely to write a novel during her senior year in high school. She always had her nose stuck in a book, even hiding them behind her textbooks during school study time. Her dream began at a young age when her sister started reciting 'Brer Rabbit' after their mom read it to them so often. She told her mom she'd write a story one day and never gave up on that dream even though her mom was never able to see it come to fruition. By day, she works as a certified paralegal and office manager at her local District Attorney's office and spends her free time with her husband, their pets, and their many hobbies. Although life in general keeps her very busy, her passion for writing and getting the stories out of her head tends to make her restless if she isn't following what some people call her destiny.



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Friday 19 July 2019

Tribute: Kevin Killian



Kevin Killian 1952 - 2019

It was a massive shock last month to learn that my good friend Kevin Killian had died after a long illness. Understandably, a lot of people took to social media to share their stories of Kevin and the impact he’d made on their lives and careers. While I wanted to write a tribute to Kevin, it was too soon. The news of his death, just a few weeks after the passing of another good friend was too raw. In a lot of ways, it still is but I’d like to share some of the memories I have of Kevin.
Kevin Killian was a novelist, poet, teacher, artist, photographer, playwright, editor: a truly creative spirit. He lived in San Francisco where he was an influential figure in the art and theatre scene. Kevin wrote four semi-autobiographical novels and numerous short story and poetry collections. Just last year his memoirs were collected in a single volume called Fascination, published by MIT Press. But despite all his own vast achievements, he was generous supporter of other writers and artists.
I first heard from Kevin late in 2000. I was a prolific writer of erotic fiction at the time, having established the pen name Thom Wolf writing for numerous gay magazines through the 1990s. Following the publication of my first novel Words Made Flesh (Virgin Books), Kevin sent a long email praising the book. His analysis of my dirty novel went deep. He saw things in the narrative and language I wasn’t aware of myself, at least not consciously. He read and understood the book in ways I didn’t. From that first letter, Kevin became my unofficial literary mentor.
While I wasn’t ashamed of my erotic writing, I didn’t go around bragging about it either. But Kevin made me realised that erotic fiction, or porn as he preferred to call it, should be celebrated. He encouraged me to keep writing and try new things. Kevin was a hugely experimental writer, and I was thrilled when he asked if I would collaborate on a story with him. Writing had always been a solitary experience for me and I had no idea how we would go about writing together, especially as we were divided by the Atlantic Ocean. But there were no obstacles to Kevin’s creativity. We each created our own characters and threw them together in a story to see what happened. I asked if I could go first, figuring I would write something and then turn it over to Kevin to do whatever he wanted with it. As he had experience of working with other writers, this seemed like the safest way forward. As we were both huge Kylie Minogue fans we called our story Too Far, named after the opening track on her 1998 album Impossible Princess. Kevin included Too Far in his short story collection, also called Impossible Princess (City Lights Publishers). That’s the kind of generous and supportive guy he was.

Kevin would often include himself as a character within his novels and stories, blurring the lines of reality and fiction. This is something he encouraged in my own writing, and I used Kevin Killian as a character in several of my stories, always with his approval. I think he got a kick from being featured in my porn work. He certainly gave plenty of encouragement. In 2012 when I wanted to self-publish a collection of erotic stories, Kevin volunteered to edit the book, completely unpaid. Another example of his huge generosity. I returned the favour by posing naked for his on-going photography project Tagged, which has been exhibited several times and he also used my photo when he collected several of the images for a limited-edition print run. The sheer number of novelists, poets and artists that he persuaded to stripped off for Tagged is testament of how much he was admired by his peers.
 Kevin was fearless. Inspirational. One of kind. There will never be another like him and I'm honoured to have been part of his life and career. The man may be gone but his work will endure. If you haven’t discovered him already, what are you waiting for.

Wikipedia: Kevin Killian

Tuesday 16 July 2019

Teaser Tuesday: Kill Switch by S.W Vaughn


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Psychological Crime Thriller
Date Published: July 26, 2019 (preorder available now at 99 cents)

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Marco Lumachi is a professional hitman. His name is not Donovan North, and he’s not a detective transferring from New York City to Landstaff Junction, Vermont. But the whole town thinks he is, and if he wants to stay alive, he needs them to keep believing that.

Because the real Donovan North — who happens to look a lot like Marco — was gunned down on the way to his new job, by a rival mob family who thinks they killed the hitman.

Forced to work on the right side of the law, Marco finds himself hunting down a serial killer who’s brutally murdered two women already. Worse, his new “partner” is beautiful, dedicated, and not buying a word of his cover story.

But the man he’s impersonating kept secrets of his own, and what Detective North was hiding could prove deadly … for Marco, and for the innocent women that the killer is still targeting.



Excerpt

Prologue


New Heights Juvenile Detention Center — Bronx, NY

Seventeen years ago

I was out in the yard after another pathetic excuse for dinner, checking around to see if anyone had gotten a care package from home so I could muscle in on them and get something decent to eat, when I spotted the new guy over by the outside fence. And I couldn’t look away.

There must’ve been a hell of an expression on my face, because Jake Paladino came over and elbowed me, even though I’d punched him for less in the past. “Did you see a ghost, or what?” he wheedled, and then flinched away, clearly remembering too late that I didn’t appreciate being jabbed.

I let it go this time, though. I was too fascinated to be angry.

“Over there,” I told him with a bare nod toward the fence.

Jake followed my gesture, and the perfect bug-eyed jaw-drop that formed on his face almost made me laugh. He looked like a real-life cartoon. Wile E. Coyote, watching the rocket he’d just fired at the Road Runner bounce off a cliff and head back at him full speed.

“You got a brother I don’t know about?” Jake finally blurted.

I shook my head, my gaze not leaving the newcomer. Apparently it was true what they said: everybody has a lookalike somewhere in the world. And here was mine. The new guy was a mirror, a twin, a clone of me.

My doppelganger.

Jake shook off the shock first and started bouncing on the balls of his feet, a lunatic grin on his unfortunate face. The scrawny, twitchy kid who’d followed me around like a stray dog since the day I got locked up in this crap place claimed to be the son of a mobster, and swore he was going to introduce me to his father and bring me into the “family business” when we got out of here. But I only had a week left on my sentence, and Jake had six months on his. Plus, he was probably lying about his mob connections.

I was considering it, though. If nothing better came along before Jake got out of here, maybe I’d give the little weasel a chance to make good on his claims. Considering my talents, the mob might be a decent fit for my future.

Not that any of us in New Heights could have a real future. They called it a youth center, but it was really just a prison with brighter colors — and everybody knew that ex-cons were screwed. Even if they were just kids when they went in.

Nobody who came out of this place would ever be considered a child again.

“Jesus, look at him. Holy shit.” Jake giggled and almost nudged me again, but then he thought better of it at the last minute. “I bet he’s about to piss his pants over there. Hey, let’s fuck with him.” The jagged grin spread. “You know what? You could do anything, even in front of the security cameras, and just blame it on that guy. We should burn this place down or something. Oh, wait, how about we kill a guard?”

“No,” I said sharply. Sometimes Jake had to be corrected like a dog, and it was all I could do not to rub his nose in his own shit. “Leave him alone, for now.”

The new guy — my doppelganger — did look unsettled. But unlike Jake, I didn’t believe he was scared. Reserved, maybe. Hanging back, getting the lay of the land. His posture was guarded and self-protective, as if he was expecting some kind of abuse, and that could’ve been interpreted as fear. But I sensed something dark in him.

Or maybe I was only projecting my own darkness onto the spitting image of myself.

Jake lost interest in the other kid fast once I rebuked him. His face only fell for a few seconds, and then his smile bounced back. “Vince and them are trying to crowd the hoop again,” he said, pointing over at the rundown basketball half-court in the far corner of the yard, where four or five of the younger boys had begun a half-hearted game of Horse. “Want to scare them off?”

“Nah. I’m hungry,” I told him. “Go find somebody with a care package. I want good shit, nothing generic or homemade.”

Always happy to serve, Jake nodded vigorously and scuttled off. I watched him absently for a few seconds before I returned my attention to the new guy.

This time, my doppelganger was looking back. And there was no fear in him at all.

There was nothing in him.

It really was like looking in a mirror.




About the Author

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S.W. Vaughn lives in “scenic” Central New York, with its two glorious seasons -- winter and road construction -- along with her husband and son. An award-winning author, copywriter, and blogger, she's been writing professionally for over 15 years.

Under Sonya Bateman, she is the author of the DeathSpeaker Codex series (urban fantasy) and the Gavyn Donatti series (urban fantasy / Simon & Schuster).


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Tuesday 2 July 2019



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Last Chance Series, Book 2
Erotic Romance, Romantic Suspense
Published: June 2019


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"I could feel her heartbeat

even though we were miles away"



Rescued from the only life she had ever known, Alannah Jackson learns what it means to be loved and not controlled. Finally able to let go of her past she begins a new life with the man who has shown her what love is. Faced with the truth, Alannah finds she can never escape her past or who she is. She will never love, only serve.



Roman’s love for Alannah is tested when he finds that she has been slaved by a man just as ruthless as Winston Nelson. Against his better judgment, he accepts Martin Holland’s offer to help retrain Alannah and he begins to question the love they shared.  After Martin Holland makes it clear of his intentions, Roman stops at nothing to get her back. There is no room for another man in her life.



Contains adult content 18+


About the author:

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Award-winning Author of the Independent Press Award and NYC Big Book Award. A.L. Long is also the recipient of the National Indie Excellence Award.

My love for writing began several years ago after an early retirement from a demanding job that I loved, but also hated because it consumed so much of my time. Now, I am able to focus my time on what I love. Writing romance has been a life long dream and to actually say that I am a published author is beyond what I would have ever expected.

Even though some may say I have a little naughtiness in my books, I look at it as an added bonus for my readers. After all what is a romance book without a little spice.

When I am not writing, I enjoy spending time with friends either at home or out on the town. Mostly, I enjoy a relaxing night at home where I can enjoy a glass of wine in the company of a good book.



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