Title: Sticks
Series: Black Addiction #2
Author: T. Gephart
Genre: Rock Star Romance
Release Date: February 28, 2016
Blurb
Kenzie Clark had made plenty of mistakes. Who cared? Life was all about the journey, and if you couldn’t enjoy the ride then what was the point. The tough-talking guitarist from Brooklyn, NY worked hard so she could play even harder. But some mistakes weren’t so easy to walk away from. Joey Shaw, drummer for Black Addiction, was exactly that kind of a mistake. How could one night of fun turn into a life long commitment? That’s exactly what Joey was asking himself when Kenzie showed up a few weeks later—the soon-to-be baby bump with his name written all over it. He could barely tie his shoes; how in the hell was he going to raise a kid? With neither of them ready to become parents, it was always going to be a difficult, but there was no way either of them were walking away. Come hell or high water, they were having this baby—together. Hopefully they would both be still standing by the birth.
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Excerpt
Prologue - Kenzie
Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. F. U. C. K. That’s exactly what should be displayed in the window of that plastic contraption shaking in my hand instead of that obnoxious plus sign. The bright blue horizontal and vertical line against a stark white background. Taunting me as I stood there hoping it was some cruel optical illusion. But it wasn’t. Oh my God, I was going to be sick. My head spun as I sunk to my ass on the cold tile floor. The stick that ten minutes ago had been so innocent and harmless was still in my hand as I struggled not to hyperventilate. This couldn’t be happening. I was pregnant. As waves of nausea rolled through my body—something I’d been experiencing a lot lately—my brain tried to reconcile my new reality. My life as I knew it was well and truly over. I am going to be someone’s mother. My hand had barely managed to lift the lid of the toilet as I lost my battle with my stomach. The full body heave expelled not only my breakfast but also my soul into the bowl as the evil EPT wand fell out of my hand and onto the floor. My future—as well as my blueberry bagel—now in the toilet. I had done a lot of stupid stuff in my time. I’ll be the first to admit that, but Joey Shaw was by far the dumbest. Unlike most of the girls he seemed to entertain, I’d known Joey for years. Our bands had crossed paths from time to time on the bar circuit, even sharing the stage once or twice. The appreciation we had for each other was mutual, both professionally and otherwise. He was good looking, sexy and had a body built for sin. It was only a matter of time before we ended up doing the in-between-the-sheets tango; I was impressed at how long I’d resisted. Driven by hormones instead of brains, our little game of flirting came to a very lustful, sexy conclusion last month. That mouth of his wasn’t only talking up a good show, with every single egotistical boast coming out of it not even close to the mind-blowing orgasm he’d given me. His body absolutely delivered on the promise of crazy and unrestrained sex. It had been a night that wasn’t going to be easy to forget. Now it seemed, he had gifted me a permanent reminder. Fuck. I was so screwed. We had barely even spoken since our hook-up, happy for it to be a casual thing between friends. It’s not like I was looking to date him. Ha. Not in this lifetime. I wasn’t that delusional. The man was hot. Not denying that, but I’d had longer relationships with a pizza than Joey had with women. So, I was happy to collect on the toe-curling sex without the side order of is-he-ever-going-to-call-me-again. God damn it. How could I have been so freaking stupid? Ugh. My stomach churned again as my brain rationalized spending most of the day locked in my bathroom. It seemed like a solid idea, one that would see me postpone the what-the-hell-did-I-do-now that was begging to be dealt with. Ha! As if. This year had started out with so much promise. The band was doing great. While no record deals had come our way, our song had gotten thousands of hits on YouTube. And there wasn’t a Saturday night where we didn’t play. Not just dive bars but actually great gigs. We were even making decent money too. Life was pretty awesome. Was. Past tense. Now, of course, I was a few months away from hawking my six-string at PawnRUs and getting a day job at Denny’s. Poor Joey. The sexy six-foot, dark-haired drummer had no idea that our baby was going to be the first and last child he would father, his balls soon to be hanging from my rearview mirror. I’d be sure to inform him and offer my condolences when I ripped them from his still-breathing body. His dick also at risk of ending up a hood ornament. It was only fair seeing as my body would be waving its red flag of rebellion in the coming months that his should suffer too. Might as well wear my skinny jeans while they still fit me, lord knows I was going to be rocking elastic waistbands and stretchy pants in the very near future. My wardrobe, the least of my worries. Huh. I was going to have a baby. My hand unconsciously brushed against my flat-for-now belly, the life its dumbass parents created growing inside of me despite my lack of a clue. A missed period and some wicked fatigue the only hint that something was amiss. And in an instant, it had all changed. Knocked up, sitting on my bathroom floor with my head down a toilet, and I had absolutely no idea of how I was going to be someone’s mom. Inside of me there was a tiny life. A little helpless human who needed my love and protection, who hadn’t asked to be born but had been put there nonetheless. Trusting that I would keep him or her safe until he or she was ready to enter into the world. My baby. Mine. Great. Now my eyes were leaking. The fucking body rebellion I had expected months from now had already started as tears streamed uncontrollably. What the hell was happening to me? I wasn’t one of those emotional girls who wept when they lost their favorite purse. I played in a rock band for God’s sake; I didn’t do crying. It was Joey’s fault. Yes. Let’s blame that asshole and his potent freaking sperm. He was the reason I had apparently lost my mind and would soon have a full uterus. And now I was back to being mad again. Awesome. This was so going to be fun.
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Author Bio
T Gephart is an indie author from Melbourne, Australia.
T's approach to life has been somewhat unconventional. Rather than going to University, she jumped on a plane to Los Angeles, USA in search of adventure. While this first trip left her somewhat underwhelmed and largely depleted of funds it fueled her appetite for travel and life experience. With a rather eclectic resume, which reads more like the fiction she writes than an actual employment history, T struggled to find her niche in the world. While on a subsequent trip the United States in 1999, T met and married her husband. Their whirlwind courtship and interesting impromptu convenience store wedding set the tone for their life together, which is anything but ordinary. They have lived in Louisiana, Guam and Australia and have traveled extensively throughout the US. T has two beautiful young children and one four legged child, Woodley, the wonder dog. An avid reader, T became increasingly frustrated by the lack of strong female characters in the books she was reading. She wanted to read about a woman she could identify with, someone strong, independent and confident and who didn't lack femininity. Out of this need, she decided to pen her first book, A Twist of Fate. T set herself the challenge to write something that was interesting, compelling and yet easy enough to read that was still enjoyable. Pulling from her own past "colorful" experiences and the amazing personalities she has surrounded herself with, she had no shortage of inspiration. With a strong slant on erotic fiction, her core characters are empowered women who don't have to sacrifice their femininity. She enjoyed the process so much that when it was over she couldn't let it go. T loves to travel, laugh and surround herself with colorful characters. This inevitably spills into her writing and makes for an interesting journey - she is well and truly enjoying the ride! Based on her life experiences, T has plenty of material for her books and has a wealth of ideas to keep you all enthralled.
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Book: Falling Ashes (Ashes to Ashes #2)
Author: Annie Anderson
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: 21st March
Synopsis
Mena Constantine is pissed off.
Finally freed from her fifty-year imprisonment by a maniacal leader, she is desperately trying to recover and get her life back. Problem is, the life she had is long gone. Struggling under the weight of her memories and healing from the wounds of her captivity, she can't seem to catch a break. Every waking moment, death seems like a relief she would welcome.
Asher Crane is a dead man.
As a Guardian to the King, his only purpose in life is to keep the King alive. And he's failing. Miserably. With the King ill, the Queen dying, and zero plans for a successor, he's pretty much screwed. Because if the King dies, the law says Asher dies, too.
As these two wounded souls collide in a series of bloody and unfortunate events, they will clutch to the last shreds of life before death beats down their door.
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Author Bio
Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, sheâll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.
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Other Books In the Series
Aurelia Constantine is having a rough century. Plagued by visions of murder, death and destruction, she has resigned herself to the nightmare her life has become. When an enemy from her past comes to her rescue, she must let go of old wounds and heal the breach so she may survive the evil poisoning her mind. Rhys Stevens is guilty. Murder. Betrayal. Treason. Take your pick; heâs guilty of them all. On the path of redemption, he must beg for forgiveness from the one person he fought to save - the woman he has always loved. Thrown together in the trenches of war, they must work as a team to stop a monstrous puppet master from pulling their strings. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down. Get ready to burn.
Giveaway
“With everything I am. I’ll always be by your side.”
It was his truth.
A vow Talan made to the woman who owned him. Because that is what Maya did to him; she held his entire life in her hands. He lived for her smile…her happiness, and now someone has dimmed that light in her eyes with their malice.
His love for his Bitty has taken him past the breaking point, and he’s determined to make those that hurt her—pay. Blood. He wanted his hands on those that wronged—almost took her away from him.
Because if one thing was certain, it was that he breathed for her. It was her warmth and love that gave him a home—a purpose and desire for more, but now that had been threatened. Maya was in pain, and that for him was unbearable.
It was his fault. A fault that he would right no matter what he had to go through.
How does a man so completely in love with his female react to seeing her in a hospital bed and broken?
He fights. Goes against all logic and seeks vengeance.
With the tip of my finger, I caressed her cheek before tipping her sad face toward mine. “Please don’t hide from me.” Leaning forward, I rested my forehead against hers—breathed in her every exhale. “I love you,” I repeated once again, this time against her lips. Lips that now pressed themselves against my own with fervor.
“Love you too,” she mumbled, mouth tightly pressed against mine.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” Another kiss. “I’m better, I promise.”
With a brow raised, I stared her down. “Don’t bullshit me.”
This time I got an eye roll and an annoyed huff. At the very least, her sass was still there. “Promise, I am. Now, quit being a pain in my injured ass and talk.”
Women. I bit her lip for the smart-ass remark before talking.
“Baby, when you were brought in, it was bad. We didn’t know anything, just that you were attacked and had lost a lot of blood at the scene.” I had to pause there and rein in my emotions. The resentment I held for the bitch and the piece of shit rich kid that helped her. Irritation with the lack of answers at that point—the fear I dealt with nearly bowled me over.
Maya didn’t need to see that.
“Please continue.”
Running the tips of my fingers through her loose curls, I found my center again. “It was bad, baby,” I whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You received a hairline fracture on the temporal bone after being hit repeatedly with a wooden—”
“Baseball bat,” she finished for me. “I remember that. I’d been at my car, on my phone with a friend when…”
Nodding, I reached up and, with the gentlest of touches, caressed her bandages. “Seeing you lying in that bed, unconscious, was one of the worst moments of my life. Pure fucking torture, not knowing when you’d wake up or what shape you’d be in. Head trauma, no matter how tiny, is dangerous. And you…fuck, Bitty.”
“Hey,” Maya breathed, wrapping her arms around my neck. The movement caused her to let out a low hiss, but before I could pull her off and check her out, she spoke. “I’m okay.”
It had the opposite effect. I hated those words with a passion.
“Stop. Don’t fucking placate me.”
“I’m not, Talan. Look at me.” Our eyes connected for a few seconds before I looked away and over toward the opposite wall. “I’m not broken. Hurt, yes, but not broken.”
Ignoring her words, I continued to talk as if on auto pilot. “Then, when you opened those beautiful grey eyes and with fear told me it was Janice, I...I want her blood on my hands for what she’s done to you.”
“That’s not a past-tense threat.”
“For as long as my heart beats inside my chest, I will protect you with every single breath I take.”
“I’ve never doubted that, but please, let the cops handle it. She’s not worth you dirtying your hands, baby.” While her pleading broke down my resolve for the briefest of seconds, looking at our surroundings brought it back. I wanted those two assholes dead. “I can see it on your face...no, Talan. Let them handle it.”
“I will.”
“Promise.”
“I do.” For now.
“Love you.”
“I know,” I replied cockily. “Now…” She let out a tiny giggle when I leaned in close and nipped her chin. “How about that shower?”
Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned. Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn't until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.
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