Friday, November 25, 2016

Half Shelled Heart (Oyster Cove #2) by Jennifer Foor *~*~*~*~* Release Blitz

This is a second chance romance novel. 


Brantley (Brant) Wallace Jr thought he had it all figured out. Living with his girlfriend of two years, he works hard on the water all day, and even harder when he gets home at night. The struggles of a serious relationship have always been difficult for Brant to digest, though he refuses to give up on what he feels is a good thing.

Jamie Danvers spent her summers on the shore of Chincoteague, Virginia, so after a messy separation from her husband, she moves her veterinary practice to the quaint coastal island. She never expected to run into the first person who ever stole her heart, or that after years apart there will be residual feelings.

When Brant sees Jamie he can't wrap his head around the girl who got away from him. Torn between current obligations, and a burning desire to get back what was once lost, Brant struggles with being able to move forward while knowing Jamie is back.

When love throws a good man a curve ball, there's no telling which road he'll choose.

Goodreads Link:

Buy Links: 
(Other platforms were only available for preorder) 

About the Author:
A Maryland native who spends most of her time devising a plan to live off the land on some remote island, where no one will ever find her.

She is a married mother of two kids, who may or may not drive her completely bonkers. In her spare time she enjoys shooting pool, camping and spending time with friends and family.


Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Screwing Around by Alexis Wilder *~*~*~*~* Release Day Blitz & Excerpts


Happy Release Day to Alexis Wilder!  Screwing Around releases today as the follow-up to her debut novel Screw Up.  More info on both below!

Buy links:
Screw Up (book #1):
Screwing Around (book #2):

Screw Up ~ A desperate writer must learn to embrace her inner bombshell when she lands a covert
job as the world’s first celebrity sex reporter. Join Cassie as she navigates troubled relationships,
props up failing investments, and tries to keep her secret job screwing movie stars for TFP under
wraps. Easy, right? --- This book includes the first five articles written by the infamous Tinseltown

Screwing Around ~ The world’s first celebrity sex reporter is learning that navigating the private lives
of Hollywood’s elite can be more treacherous than titillating. Continue on with Cassie as she
stumbles through interpersonal relationships, halfheartedly hunts for stolen earnings, and attempts
to keep her job nailing actors for TFP a closely guarded secret. How lucky can a girl get? Includes
articles six - ten.

A desperate writer must learn to embrace her inner bombshell when she lands a covert job as the world's first celebrity sex reporter. Cassie has hit hard times. She can't find a job, her mother is prison bound, and her love life jumped a plane and fled to another continent. What’s an ardent fangirl to do? When a handsome new acquaintance offers her a lucrative position writing for his online celebustalk publication, TenFootPole, Cassie jumps at the chance

to make some real money doing what she loves. The only catch is the subject matter. She’s assigned the gossip rag’s new beat, the sex desk, and must score with big names and tell all. In graphic detail. Publishing under the Tinseltown Temptress pseudonym is supposed to shield her, but she soon realizes that no amount of anonymity would be enough to protect her from the repercussions of her notorious stories. As her personal life circles the drain, Cassie grasps for handholds in all the wrong laps and struggles to keep her head above the shark infested water. When her investment in a friend’s all male revue is put in jeopardy, she must rally her seductive forces or sink forever under the waves.
The world’s first celebrity sex reporter finds navigating the private lives of Hollywood’s elite more treacherous than titillating. Cassie rallies her seductive forces in time to persuade her editor, Mr. Wilcox to rehire her at TFP, but her troubles are far from over.  How lucky can one girl get?  Run-ins with her ex, rando drummers, (Scandinavian film star and general loon) MH, and even a gun wielding psycho threaten to derail Cassie’s hunt for professional grade, celebrity level, sexual fulfillment. Her articles as the Tinseltown Temptress have become more popular than ever costing her friends, privacy, and peace of mind. And while her notoriety affords her a certain measure of job security it also makes keeping her secret involvement in the whole scandalous business harder than ever. Between locating her thieving mother and defending her
home from interlopers, both foreign nd domestic, Cassie is in over her head. Add in the constant pressures of finding suitable film stars to screw and bestie Matt breathing down her neck for his investment capital, and it’s plain why the woman feels so swamped. Clinging to the loose threads of all the lies, Cassie tries to stay afloat while blazing a torpid trail through the ranks of Hollywood’s finest in search of her happy ending

Screw Up Excerpt
Cassie answered an ad for a mystery position at TFP.mag her favorite celebrity gossip site.
The following Monday, still wallowing in self-pity, Cassie was shocked to get a call from Rochelle setting up an interview for late that very afternoon. Nervous but desperate, she decided to keep the appointment even though she dreaded having to answer for some of her questionnaire responses. And what if James T. Wilcox himself sat in? Ugh. Praying to every god she’d ever heard of that this interview wasn’t with the man she’d slept with a few days ago, Cassie entered the sparse and generic lobby. Two white girls, beautiful, blue-eyed blondes in their early twenties sat across the small space from each other, clutching their portfolios in their neat french manicures. They were trying hard to look nervous, but not too nervous. One was thin and extremely leggy, the other a petite hardbody. Both were dressed like dirty librarians, complete with oversized granny glasses neither of them needed.
Sitting down between them, Cassie’s mind boggled a bit at the contrast between herself and these much younger women. Under the office’s harsh florescent overheads, her light-brown, dusky-rose skin tone looked washed out and slightly gray. Although she was in great physical shape, her body was a lot more on the bootylicious side. She had at least twenty pounds on both of them. Every bit of humidity available had found her tight, tiny mahogany curls, predictably frizzing them out. They’d partially tightened up into a messy looking long bob but wild stray wisps were sticking out everywhere giving her an odd halo effect. Her golden, hazel eyes joined her nose and lips in being too large for her otherwise normal sized face. Somehow the combination gave her a startled expression most people found disarming. She hadn’t even dressed professionally for the interview. Half thinking they’d only called her in to ridicule her writing sample to her face, she planned on hitting a blues show on her way home so as not to waste the trip downtown. Cassie had worn a short, bright orange, summer dress with a retro braid and bead belt and very high, strappy, bronze heels. She hadn’t even brought a portfolio, just a smallish metallic bag with some essentials.
Scanning through her social media accounts on her mobile while each of the other women went in, she began to get more and more nervous. Baffled as to why they hadn’t been given individual appointment times, she started to get paranoid and wonder if this wasn’t all some sort of bizarre test. Finally, nearly thirty minutes later, the little blonde was led to the elevator by the same dour faced woman who’d taken each of them in. She wore a plain, but perfectly tailored beige suit and sported a poofy Mrs. Garrett bun. She approached Cassie on her return trip and nodded portentously before walking toward the office door. Not sure that had been an invitation, Cassie kept her seat hesitantly.
“Come on then, dear. Let’s not keep him waiting.” The woman hadn’t even turned her head back to look but Cassie jumped up like she’d been scolded and rushed in after her. “Mr. Wilcox. Your last appointment, a Miss Clifford,” the woman announced, ruining Cassie’s hopes of an unbiased evaluation by someone who hadn’t seen her naked. Once Cassie shuffled awkwardly past her, his assistant turned sharply on one short heel and exited, closing the door firmly behind her.
“What do you know about TenFootPole?” Mr. James T. Wilcox’s disembodied voice asked from across the room. The question hung in the air between them as the seconds ticked by. She didn’t even try to answer. “Please, Sid, have a seat. God, you’re beautiful.” The last he seemed to just be saying to himself, but it still made Cassie feel instantly more at ease.
Ripping her eyes off the generic teamwork art on the wall of the conference room took an act of will, but she finally managed to look at him. He sat at one end of the large table, legal pad with illegible scribbling and a laptop open in front of him. He didn’t look that much like the guy that nearly sucked her ear off a few days ago. Finally moving, she crossed the room but remained standing across from him. She slipped her mobile back into her bag, pushed a button down on her old 90’s mini-recorder, and eyed him with uncertainty; sure that something about this wasn’t quite right.
Cassie enjoyed a love hate relationship with TFP. It was, by far, her favorite celebrity gossip site. “I’ve seen it,” she said. She’d seen it at least twice a day since its launch eight years ago. There were custom alerts set up on her phone to notify her if they mentioned any of her favorite celebrities.
“Oh yeah. This interview is being recorded. You answered ‘none of your business’ to almost all our… what did you call them on here? ‘nosy ass questions’.” He smiled at what he seemed to regard as her audacity but didn’t ask her anything, so Cassie just smiled back.
“Your writing sample is extremely impressive, even if the characters aren’t exactly yours to write with impunity.”
“Oh, you read it.” Cassie’s brain was screaming and wouldn’t let her mind sort out any of the right things to say. This man had read the passage she’d written about Mulder sucking Scully’s toes after a foot massage gone wonderfully wrong, and thought her writing was impressive. She knew she should sit but her muscles wouldn’t work. A wildly successful, multi-market publisher actually liked her MSR smut. She was blown away.
“I’m very interested in you for this position, but I need more to go on. Were you ever a groupie? Do anybody famous?”
Cassie didn’t consider herself the kind of girl to get into a kiss-and-tell fest with the King of the Paparazzi. “Let’s just say I’ve lived a little.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“I may have followed some bands around on tour.” Her curiosity finally overcame her flight instinct and her tensed muscles gave up, allowing her to sit down across the table from him. “And?”
“Groupie, huh? Just what I was hoping to find. My readers are insatiable. They want to know everything about these celebrities, and therefore so do I. Slept with anyone I’ve ever heard of?”
He stared at Cassie, waiting breathless for details, then gave up and continued. “Are you really thirty-six?”
Are you really thirty-six? this greying man in his late forties had asked her, his nose and mouth wrinkled and drawn up slightly, as if he were afraid he might smell her nearing expiration date.
“That’s what my license says,” was how she answered, trying very hard to remain polite with her potential new employer. Also, the last man she’d had inside her.
Again he paused for more information that was not forthcoming. “And how many men would you estimate you screw in a quarter?”
“Do you mean a fiscal quarter?”
“Of course, what other kind is there?”
“I don’t know. This whole line of questioning is nuts. Maybe you mean how many guys can I slam in fifteen minutes.”
“That would be extreme even for my wildest projections for this position.”
“What position? What exactly do you want written? What the hell is all this about?
Again that wide mouthed toothy smile. “Fair enough. I want to start up a column, a sex column, about what it’s like to, you know, be with them.”
“Have sex you mean? With famous people and then write about it. The sex. Is that legal?”
“I hope so.”
“Sounds like prostitution, you hiring people to fuck. No offense, Mr. Wilcox, but just because I was a little slutty the other day doesn’t mean my body’s for sale.”
“Too bad. You’d be extremely rich if it was. First off Sid, you aren’t slutty you are a liberated woman. Secondly, this isn’t prostitution. Look at it this way, if you got to fuck a big star, like AB, you probably would, right?” AB was indeed a huge star, fifteen years ago a superstar, and he wasn’t aging all that badly.
“Um, in the right scenario, no strings? Maybe.” Cassie looked up at the ceiling and tried to imagine what she’d do. AB that’s what she’d do. “Yeah, I would.” She knew she’d never be able to resist hooking up with the incredibly handsome Hollywood hunk. In fact, she’d feel lucky and grateful.
“Well I wouldn’t be paying you for your carnal activities with Mr. B, I just want to buy your diary entry about them. Big difference.”
“I don’t know, kind of a gray area.” Her mind was spinning with the possibilities and ramifications and her mouth was trying to stall.
“Look, I think you’d be great for it, but if it’s not up your alley--?”
“Are you saying the job is mine?”
“Unfortunately, no. You are my first choice, of course, but cooler heads have demanded that we let actions speak louder than words. The tiny, spinner blonde who just left has passed muster and is also up for the job. First one to have sexual intercourse with a ‘big tv or film star’ and to submit at least 5,000 words about rockin’ his cock gets the job.”
“Is this the same breakdown you gave my competition?”
“Hell no, I was extremely professional with both those chicks. The first girl has a husband and a kid. Says they have an open marriage, but I told her thanks but no thanks anyway. That second girl though, her writing’s pretty hot and that body, Jesus. She’s a world class gymnast and was nearly a Rhodes scholar! She’s really going to give you a run for it. Feisty little thing.”
“Nearly makes her not a Rhodes scholar. Define ‘big tv or film star’.”
“Someone I’ve printed in TFP. Someone instantly recognizable.”
“You’re going to get your ass sued the fuck off.”
“We’re going to change their names, maybe a few tiny details, just enough to make them blind items. No sueing, my legal team assures me.”
“Trust me.”
They sat there staring at each other for a full minute and he seemed determined to make her speak first this time.
Cassie caved. “Where should I send my article when it’s done?”

Screw Up Review

I Heart Books Review

Screw Up (Tinseltown Temptress #1) by Alexis Wilder 
Review by Theresa Esterline
Stars: 4

Irresistible Temptations...

Funny stories of a woman in a desperate situation.  You'll laugh, feel bad, wish you were her, be glad you aren't, depending on which story she is after!  And now a bit about the story...

Cassie (aka Sid aka Lana) was dumped by her fiance via a text message from a burner phone.  Now she needs to find a job and hopefully get out of his apartment before he returns from his European tour.  Only problem is her newly acquired job requires some special skills she isn't all that thrilled with.  Can she see past the bad and do her job?

Favorite passages:
 - “Would you like an autograph?” In spit, on my thigh.
 - “Trudy’s cuts people off at three of those. It’s enough liquor to get a bear drunk.”

 - She liked his disarming sense of humor. He liked that she ate like a human woman, rather than a bunny picking at a salad.

Screwing Around Excerpt
James T. Wilcox, Cassie’s boss at TFP.mag, just roused her out of bed early in the afternoon to discuss his plans for her upcoming article. She’s busy making excuses.
“An appreciative, philandering movie star is hard to find?”
“You should have gone after SEK like I suggested.”
“I love his characters way too much to ruin it with fangirl sex. Plus, he might have turned me down too.”
“He would have taken the bait, guaranteed.”
“Am I, personally, the bait? Or just my genitalia?”
“Don’t read too much into fishing metaphors. It’s a ridiculous hobby to begin with.”
“Wait, does he fish or something?”
“I don’t fucking know. Look,” he took a silver pen out of his pocket and uncapped it. His other hand slowly breached the distance between them and touched her shoulder. He slid his fingers down, lightly brushing the side of Cassie’s breast where it pressed against the inside of her arm. His caress continued down, and now she held her breath. He stopped at Cassie’s wrist, encircling it and drawing her hand up toward him over the counter. She thought he was about to kiss her palm. Instead, he started writing on it, “here’s his phone number. Call him and set up a date.”
She let out my breath explosively and jerked her hand away so the last number, an 8, had a long trailer on top. “What the hell do you mean, a date?”
“I know him, all right. He wants to meet you.”
“Meet me? And go on a date? Let me guess, it was his suggestion that I write an article about him. Which means sex.”
“If things go well.”
“So now you’re pimping me out to your friends?”
“Hardly.” He stood and gulped down the last of his coffee before starting around the island toward her.
She backed away, terrified that his nearness would break some barrier she had created and she’d be powerless to resist his attentions.
He stopped his advance and shook his head, giving her a knowing, disappointed look before starting for the door. “Fine. Look Sid, do you need a place to crash? You could always use the little townhouse downtown. You remember it right?”
The little townhouse that they’d most recently copulated in. “Yes, I remember it.”
He just watched her face for a few beats, licked his lower lip. “I’m hardly ever there and it mostly just stores all my stuff that doesn’t ‘go’ with the house. Which is all of my stuff.”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it covered.”
“I’ll text you the lock code just in case your plans fall through. It sits empty in between vicious bouts of legal separation. Someone should use it.” He stood near the door with his hands in his pockets. “And you should go after SEK. You deserve a nice night out for a change.”
“I don’t know. I really love his films.”
“That’s why I’m positive he’ll be a better story than RG.”
“Take it from a person who occasionally has feelings and emotions, I really like the RG story as is, despite the rejection. I think it’s my favorite so far.”
“That two-bit hack was your favorite lay of this whole deal?”
“Of course not, we didn’t even consummate, as you’ve so carefully pointed out over and over. He’s been my favorite article of the series and the most satisfactory individual case study on the subject matter at hand.”
As they spoke, something invisible seemed to draw them closer and closer. “Which is what if not sex?”
“Oh it’s sex, but not how you mean it.”
“Fine. Redefine sex. Your satisfaction means the world to me.” He swung her door open and took a few steps away from her. He turned and stood in her doorway looking like a Wall Street Journal centerfold. It took every bit of self-control Cassie possessed not to pull him back in and peel him out of his suit. Instead, she gripped her robe even more forcefully closed and counted backwards in her head. She felt desperate to get the wolf out and the door safely re-locked.
“I have a deal for you.”
“Are we about to modify my contract, again?”
“I’ll publish the RG piece as written, has been, prick, lead singer finale and all. If you’ll try SEK out. When I get your article on him, I’ll pay you out for both at once.”
“Should I bother to counter offer?”
“Not unless you’re going to invite me back inside.”
“Fine. I’ll text him.”
“Call him.”
“Thanks. I forgot for a second that you’re both so old. I’ll call him.”
“Thanks. And fix your hair.”
Her hand shot up onto her hair knots while bolting the door, Wilcox safely on the other side, and she inwardly cursed herself for forgetting she still had them in. It was then she remembered she’d wanted to change the end of the article to better obscure the identity of a certain lead singer. Wilcox would demand even more concessions from her for the favor so she decided to forget it and let it lie. Cassie thought of all the strategies she’d cooked up to avoid screwing around with her boss and wondered again why she even bothered. His personality (imagine, waking someone up and then criticizing the state of their hair!) should have been more than enough.
Needing another start to her day, Cassie turned on the coffee pot, covered her knots up with a pink shower cap and got into a steamy shower to shave. Remoisturized, she took out her hair and got her part in, leaving the rest loose and bouncy. She wrapped herself up in a seen-better-days beach towel and detoured into the kitchen for a mug to sip on while she got dressed. Cassie splashed in her cream and sipped it once before turning to head back to her bedroom.
“Any left for me?”
She jumped and spilled some coffee on the hardwood but didn’t scream. She would know that voice anywhere. She spun to see MH sitting relaxed on her couch, all huge, golden and beautiful in jeans and a tee. He was in her apartment. Shit, Lenny’s apartment.
She took a deep breath and got a hold of herself. “Of course.” She held onto her towel carefully while reaching up to the second shelf to get him the Darth Vader mug. “Cream?”
“However you take it will be fine.” His voice was even, calm. He didn’t sound like a man guilty of breaking and entering. Maybe it was the Nordic accent he let slip into his words. He got up and stepped into the middle of the living room area. A bit closer to her. “I really like your place.”
“Thanks. How’d you get in?” She gestured at him with the mug before setting it on the edge of the island.
“I climbed up a few patios. Your window was unlocked.” He stood there in her living room, unmoving, but at her unflinching, waiting posture he hung his head. He snorted some air out and admitted, “I followed that ass clown here and waited for him to leave.”
The window in question was fifty plus feet off the ground, and inaccessible without a fireman’s ladder as far as she had thought, but she decided not to push the point. “Why?”
“Not sure I even know except I had to see you. See if you were really you, like the you I remembered.” MH squinted and screwed up his face, as if to see her better and she wondered if he was a little drunk.
“I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
“Never, ever. But I changed my mind. You changed my mind.” He walked forward finally to claim his coffee and she retreated a few more steps to give them both some space.
“Don’t put this on me. How did you know Mr. Wilcox was coming here?” She absolutely could not wrap her head around the notion of him on a stakeout.
“A little birdie told me. Don’t ask any more questions, does it matter?”
“I guess not if you’re not going to tell me. How about you enjoy your warm beverage while I throw some clothes on. Then you can tell me what you want.” She turned away and took two steps toward the hall before his front crashed into her back and his ridiculously long arms wrapped her up from behind.
“You know what I want as much as I do.” He said it like it hurt him and Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. “Sorry.” His arms loosened until he held her so lightly her towel unbound and began to slip. “Until I saw him leaving here, I just wanted to talk to you. Show you what you’ve done to me, tell you some of the consequences of what happened between us. Knowing he’d been up here with you, it drove me mad and that’s just stupid.”
His arms let her go then but his body stayed pressed against her, and Cassie wasn’t sure what to make of his declarations. MH seemed a bit unhinged, and though she didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid she did wonder if she wasn’t erring on the side of lust here. She would have gladly murdered someone to be this close to him again and she found that no matter what the risk, she just didn’t want to fight her physical response to the man. She slowly turned to face him, their bodies millimeters apart.
He continued, “Now I feel foolish for hating you and I don’t give one shit about consequences. Are you sleeping with that odious man?”
“He’s my boss. I wouldn’t sleep with my boss.” This came out as a breathy whisper.
“But you have slept with him in the past?”
“And you. But if it made a crucial difference I doubt you would have climbed up my neighbors’ patios and climbed through my window to surprise me fresh out of the shower.”
His faced changed while she spoke and when she finished MH’s hand inched forward and grabbed the edge of her towel. She relaxed her grip and let him pull it off of her. His eyelids sank fractionally and his nose flared at her exposed flesh. Cassie leaned away slightly, pushing her shoulders back for her best breast display and she watched as his will to resist her snapped. His hands came around the back of her neck to pull their faces together and his lips sank into hers with a tender warmth she hadn’t expected. He kissed her slowly and deeply like a man without cares or reservations.

Screwing Around Review

I Heart Books Review

Screwing Around (Tinseltown Temptress #2) by Alexis Wilder 
Review by Theresa Esterline
Stars: 4

The temptations continue, with more comedy and suspense...

Be sure to read Screw Up first as this is a continuation of that story.  The morning after the drunken self loathing submission Cassie wants to take it all back.  But how to undo all the wrong things she did in that one little drunk email??  Plus a few more celebrity hotties join the tour!  And now a bit about the story...

Cassie flies home to beg for her job back.  The one some think she got by sleeping with her now former boss before she knew about the job.  Though he's tried again, she's been very clear...she will not sleep with her boss.  So when she shows up at his condo, currently unemployed... she has no problem sleeping with him ;) Maybe that got her the job back... Anyhow between her thief of a mother, her douche of an ex, she seems to also now have a few crazy stalkers.  Will she get exposed?  Or will she continue to entertain one celebrity at a time!

Favorite passages:
- Please, oh please don’t let her come face to face with someone from his family. No children, no wife, no whammies.
- Linked arm -in-arm we looked like long lost lovers; or a girl walking with her beloved grandpa . Either way, it was a picturesque pickup.
- ‘If you don’t plan for what you want how will you ever achieve it?’

More excerpts/free samples:

Author bio:
Alexis Wilder loves living near a lake with her patient husband, their mermaid children,
and a deranged dog.
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