Book Spotlight: Defined by Deceit by A.E. Via + Giveaway (INT)

Defined by Deceit by A.E. Via
March 27th 2015 by Via Star Wings Publishing

Life isn't always fair, and that’s something that Llewellyn Gardner knows about first hand. His life was on the fast track until one night of extreme passion changed everything. Now eight years later, he’s still living with the aftershocks of that night. Everywhere he turns or runs, there’s another reminder. What the hell do you do when you try to drown your demons only to find out they can swim? 

Shane Smith, Jr. owner of Smith Construction, could see the emotional turmoil within his new employee — it’s why he hired him. There was something about the gorgeous, misunderstood man with the overly expressive eyes that came to their small town with a past no one was willing to overlook. Shane could see the good in Llewellyn, and those eyes of his were a clear window to his soul. Shane wasn't going to let the man live a future of solitude because his past had been plagued with deceit. 

Llewellyn wasn’t sure what to think about Shane. After years of protecting himself from being tricked twice, he was now faced with worry again. What would happen to him if Shane didn’t believe his truth, and walked away? Llewellyn wasn’t sure he'd be able to survive being left alone. Again.

Purchase:

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Excerpt:

A guy with black hair and a blond Mohawk wiped the bar top with a rag as he asked him, “What can I get you?”
Llew nodded his head in the direction of the taps. “Budweiser.”
“Regular or tall?”
“Tall.” Llew watched the man pull his drink and set it in front of him. He looked up at Llew for a split second before dropping his eyes. “Four fifty. Or do you want to start a tab?”
Setting a five-dollar bill on the counter was Llew’s answer. He turned and looked out over the dance floor, watching the men move about in the most carefree nature he’d ever seen. Men free to live and do as they wanted. Not a problem in the world. What the fuck am I doing here? Just as Llew was going to down the last of his beer, a small hand brushed over his bicep. He looked down at the fair-skinned fingers before looking up into beautiful green eyes.
“Hello.”
Llew looked at the man who was standing close enough for him to smell his sweet perfume. He wasn’t as young as lot of the guys there. Probably early thirties. He wore a preppy gray and green sweater and blue jeans. His smile was wide and genuine as he slowly rubbed his hand up to Llew’s shoulder.
“My name is Gene. My friends and I saw you come in, and you know what I said as soon as I saw you?”
Llew continued to watch this man, not responding to his questions.
“I said I thought you could use a hug. You look so serious. My friends said I’m crazy, but I have a gift for reading people.”
You don’t want to read my story.
“What’s your name? I’ve never seen you here before.” The guy had moved in even closer to Llew’s side, and was practically whispering in his ear so he didn’t have to yell over the annoying techno music blaring from the five thousand speakers all over the building.
His eyes had seemed to slip shut on their own as he turned his head into the silky skin brushing against his beard. “Llew,” he said, hoarsely.
“Lou… just Lou.” The guy looked at him disbelievingly.
“Llewellyn.” He clarified, his eyes scanning over the lithe chest beneath that sweater.
“Oh. Okay. I gotcha. So how about it, Llew?” Gene brought both hands up and draped them on Llew’s shoulders. “Can you use a hug?”
He let the man pull him closer; his long arms completely over his shoulders and linked behind his head. Llew had to admit it was a really nice hug. It wasn’t the type you’d give a stranger. It was intimate and suggestive. Llew brought one hand up and slid it around the guy’s trim waist. “There. How’s that feel?” Gene’s lips were pressed against his ear while he talked, his hot breath fanning over the side of Llew’s neck. Instead of pulling back and ending the hug, Gene kept him wrapped up. “You’re a very handsome man, Llew. Do you hear that a lot?” Gene chuckled. “Probably all the time.”

About the Author:

A.E. Via is a best-selling author in the beautiful gay erotic genre. She’s been reading gay romance exclusively for ten years before she decided to submit one of her own stories for publication. Her writing embodies everything from spicy to scandalous. Her novels often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths. 

When she’s not clicking away at her laptop, A.E. devotes herself to her family—a husband and four children, her two pets, a Maltese dog and her white Siamese cat, ELynn, named after the late, great gay romance author E. Lynn Harris. 

Although she’s still a fairly new author, she has plenty more to come. So sit back and grab a cool drink, because the male on male action is just heating up! Go to A.E. Via’s official website http://authoraevia.com for more detailed information on how to contact her, follow her, or get a sneak peak on upcoming work, free reads, and where she’ll appear next. 

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3 e-copies of Defined by Deceit (INT)

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The Heavenly Bites Novella Collection by Christine S. Feldman - Excerpt + Kindle Deal!

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The Heavenly Bites Novella collection by Christine S. Feldman has gone down from $3.99 to $0.99!

Be sure to grab this deal between May 27 and June 2!

The Heavenly Bites Novellas Collection

At the Heavenly Bites Bakery, three very different women bake up delectable treats and find romance with some unexpected but equally delectable men. Find out how in these three short and sweet novellas, finally available as a collection and in paperback form…


Pastels and Jingle Bells: When Trish Ackerly crosses paths with Ian Rafferty, the former bully of her childhood years, her plans for a comeuppance fall by the wayside as she comes to realize that the man he is now is very different from the boy he used to be—and that a Christmas romance might just be in her future.


Love Lessons: When bakery customer Mrs. Beasley guilts Nadia Normandy into mentoring unsuspecting accountant Benji Garner in the world of dating, Nadia soon discovers that this particular accountant has a charm all his own. And with New Year’s Eve just around the corner, it may be time for Nadia to make a resolution to sweep her protégé off his feet before someone else beats her to it.


Playing Cupid: Free-spirited Aimee Beasley’s plans to match her widowed grandmother up with a distinguished elderly gentleman hit a snag when she learns he’s the uncle of their downstairs neighbor, grim Doyle Berkely, a man with whom Aimee butts heads on a regular basis. But in the process of nudging her grandmother’s romance along, Aimee uncovers a softer side to Doyle that may lead to a little romance of her own…

Purchase here:

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Excerpt

Pastels and Jingle Bells: Heavenly Bites Novella #1

It was probably inviting the worst kind of karma to be contemplating murder during the holiday season of all times, but that didn’t faze Trish Ackerly in the slightest as she stared through her bakery’s storefront window in shock.
It was him. Ian Rafferty, bane of her junior high school existence. She’d know that face anywhere, despite the changes in it. Sure, he was a couple of feet taller now and certainly broader shouldered, but as he glanced away from the winter scene she had painted on the window only yesterday and at a passing car that whizzed by much too fast on the busy city street, the profile he presented to her confirmed it. Yes, it was him. That same nose, the odd little scar above his eye, the familiar way he quirked his lips…
Her eyes narrowed. Ian Rafferty. That miserable, mean-spirited little—
Then he turned his face back to the window, and Trish gasped and dropped to the floor before he could spot her staring at him.
“What on earth are you doing?” came Nadia’s voice from behind the counter.
Trish huddled behind a tall metal trash can and glanced up through her dark bangs at her startled friend and business partner only to remember belatedly that they had company in the shop, namely wizened little Mrs. Beasley, whose startled eyes blinked at her from behind enormous tortoise-shell spectacles.
Well, there was little help for it now. “That guy,” Trish hissed, jerking one thumb in the direction of the window. “I know him!”
Both Nadia and Mrs. Beasley peered intently through the glass. “Mmm,” said Nadia appreciatively a moment later. “Lucky you, girlfriend.”
“No, not lucky me! That guy made my life a living hell in junior high. He’s a jerk, he’s a bully—“
“He’s coming in here, dear,” Mrs. Beasley interrupted her, with obvious interest in her voice.
With a squeak of alarm, Trish shuffled hastily behind the counter on her hands and knees and hunched into as small and inconspicuous a ball as she could.
Nadia blinked. “Trish, are you out of your—“
“Sh!”
“Oh, you did not just shush me—“
“SHH!” Trish insisted again, knowing full well that she’d pay for it later, and then she pulled her head down into her shoulders as much as her anatomy would allow.
The bell on the door jangled cheerfully then, and a gust of cold air heralded Ian Rafferty’s arrival.
“Hi, there,” Nadia greeted him brightly, surreptitiously giving Trish’s foot a little dig with one of her own. “Welcome to Heavenly Bites. What can I get for you?”
“Cup of coffee would be great for starters,” came a voice that was deep but soft, and far less reptilian than Trish expected. She cocked her head slightly to better catch his words and heard the unmistakable sound of him blowing on his hands and rubbing them together to warm them. “Cream, no sugar.”
“Sure thing, honey.”
“Your window art,” his voice continued, and Trish straightened ever so slightly at the mention of her work. “It’s fantastic. Can I ask who painted it?”
“Absolutely,” Nadia returned, turning her attention to getting the coffee he requested. “My business partner, Trish.”
“Is she around, by any chance?”
Nadia glanced down at where Trish sat scrunched up and did what Trish thought was a very poor job of suppressing a smirk. “She’s, um, indisposed at the moment. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve got a couple of windows that could use a little holiday cheer. Think she might be interested in the job?”
Nadia gave Trish another brief sideways glance.
Trish shook her head frantically.
“Tell you what. Leave me your number, and we’ll find out.” Nadia stepped out of reach before Trish could smack her leg.
“Great, thanks. Here’s my card.”
“I’ll see that she gets it, Mr.—“ Nadia glanced at the card. “—Rafferty. Here’s your coffee, and you, sir, have a very nice day.”
The bell on the door jingled again, and Trish cautiously poked her head up long enough to verify that Ian was indeed gone. She then ignored the fascinated look Mrs. Beasley was giving her and fixed an icy stare on Nadia. “I’m going to kill you. How could you do that?”
Nadia tossed her dark braids over her shoulder. “Hmph. Shush me in my own shop…”
“I don’t want to talk to that guy! I don’t want to have anything to do with him.”
“He seemed nice enough to me,” her friend returned, shrugging unapologetically. “And easy on the eyes, too.”
“And single,” put in Mrs. Beasley eagerly, one wrinkled hand fluttering over her heart. “No wedding ring.”
“Of course there’s no ring! No woman wants to marry the devil!” Trish sank back down onto the floor and leaned back heavily against the shelves
behind her.
“He used to be the devil,” Nadia corrected her, examining the business card he had handed to her. “Now he’s ‘Ian Rafferty, Landscape Architect’. And he’s a paying customer, Trish. Face it, you could use the money.”
“Forget it. I’m not so hard up that I’d go crawling to Ian Rafferty for a job.” Trish scowled and folded her arms across her chest. “I have my dignity, you know.”
“Yeah? Why don’t you get up off the floor and tell me all about your dignity.”
“Oh, shut up,” Trish muttered, getting to her feet and snatching the card from Nadia’s hand. Wadding it up, she tossed it in the direction of the trashcan and stalked into the bakery’s kitchen.

About the Author:

Christine S. Feldman writes both novels and feature-length screenplays, and she has placed in screenwriting competitions on both coasts.  She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her ballroom-dancing husband and their beagle. 

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Check my reviews of the novellas out here:
Pastels and Jingle Bells - 5 stars
Love Lessons - 4 stars
Playing Cupid - 5 stars

So make sure you grab your copy because you wouldn't want to miss these great novellas!

Excerpt Tour: The Geography of You and Me‏ by Jennifer E. Smith + Giveaway (INT)

On Tour with Prism Book Tours

Welcome to my stop for the EXCERPT TOUR for

The Geography of You and Me

by Jennifer E. Smith

The Geography of You and Me
by Jennifer E. Smith
YA Contemporary Romance
April 15th 2014 by Little, Brown for Young Readers

Lucy and Owen meet somewhere between the tenth and eleventh floors of a New York City apartment building, on an elevator rendered useless by a citywide blackout. After they're rescued, they spend a single night together, wandering the darkened streets and marveling at the rare appearance of stars above Manhattan. But once the power is restored, so is reality. Lucy soon moves to Edinburgh with her parents, while Owen heads out west with his father.

Lucy and Owen's relationship plays out across the globe as they stay in touch through postcards, occasional e-mails, and -- finally -- a reunion in the city where they first met.

A carefully charted map of a long-distance relationship, Jennifer E. Smith's new novel shows that the center of the world isn't necessarily a place. It can be a person, too.

Amazon *  Barnes & Noble * Book Depository

Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

Excerpt 10

Lucy slid out from the wall, folding her legs beneath her and leaning forward. “How come your dad’s in Coney Island?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“That’s not the point.”

“For the roller coasters?”

He shook his head.

“The hot dogs?” she asked. “The ocean?”

“Aren’t you at all worried that nobody’s coming to get us?”

“It won’t help anything,” she said. “Worrying.”

“Exactly,” he said. “It is what it is.”

“Nope,” she said. “Nothing is what it is.”

“Fine,” he said. “It’s not what it isn’t.”

Lucy gave him a long look. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Or maybe you’d just prefer not to,” he said, sitting forward, and they both laughed. The darkness between them felt suddenly thin, flimsy as tissue paper and even less substantial. His eyes shone through the blackness as the silence stretched between them, and when he finally broke it, his voice was choked.

“He’s in Coney Island because that’s where he first met my mother,” Owen said. “He bought flowers to leave on the boardwalk. He wanted to do it alone.”

Lucy opened her mouth to say something—to ask a question, perhaps, or to tell him she was sorry, a word too small to mean anything at a moment like this—but the silence felt suddenly fragile, and she could think of nothing worthy enough to break it.

His head was bowed so that it was hard to make out the expression on his face, and she felt useless, sitting there without any idea of what to do. But then a faint knock sent her heart up into her throat, and his eyes found hers in the dark. The sound came again, and Owen stood this time, moving over to the door and pressing his ear against it. He knocked back, and they both listened. Even from where she was still sitting numbly in the middle of the floor, Lucy could hear the muffled voices outside, followed by the scrape of something metal. After a moment, she rose to her feet, too, and without a word, without even looking at each other, they stood there like that, shoulder to shoulder, like a couple of astronauts at the end of a long journey, waiting for the doors to open so they could step out into a dazzling new world.

Jennifer E. Smith is the author of This Is What Happy Looks Like, The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight, The Storm Makers, You Are Here, and The Comeback Season. She earned a master’s degree in creative writing from the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, and currently works as an editor in New York City. Her work has been translated into 27 languages, and her next young adult novel, The Geography of You and Me, will be out in Spring 2014.

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Tour-Wide Giveaway

- Hardcover copy of The Geography of You and Me
- ebook copy of The Geography of You and Me
- Open internationally
- April 8 - 22

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4/8 - Tour Launch

4/9

A Backwards Story

Literary Meanderings

4/10

Book Briefs

A Life Bound By Books

4/11

The Reading Diaries

Books and Bindings

4/13

The Wonderings of One Person

Melissa's Eclectic Bookshelf

4/14

I Am A Reader

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4/15 - Release Day Grand Finale

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Trailer & Excerpt Reveal: Last Second Chance by Caisey Quinn + Giveaway!

Today I have a trailer and excerpt from Last Second Chance by Caisey Quinn, a book I can't wait to read!

Enjoy! =D

Excerpt:

He flashed her a sexy grin and stepped right back into her space. “I don’t want some chick. And you’re not that good at hiding your emotions, beautiful. You snapped on those nurses at lunch and ran out of my room so fast I barely had time to blink. Any particular reason why?” He trailed a finger down her cheek and over her lips. Instead of an answer, a whimper escaped her throat. A painful throbbing began between her thighs, intense and demanding.

His touch deepened the pain. Her policy was no dating people in her workplace. She certainly wasn’t going to date Van Ransom. He’d probably never taken a girl on a proper date in his life. But right now she didn’t care about any of that. She just wanted him to take her up against the back of the barn, hard and fast. She was a country girl at heart after all.

“Stella Jo, you going to answer? Or do I have torture it out of you?”

Theway he said her name, the one she was used to hearing drop only from the lips of family members, made her shiver. She let her head loll back to rest on the wall behind her. “Do your worst. I’ve dealt with animals much bigger than you.”

Leaning in until his nose brushed hers, he let out a soft growl. “You sure as hell better be talking about horses, because if you’re talking about Dr. Dickhead or any other man who's put his hands on you in a way you didn’t want, they’re fucking dead.”

She grinned and winked at him. “Guess that’s for me to know, darlin’.” Her breath was still coming too fast, but she was gaining confidence. She was having as much of an effect on him as he was on her. A competitive streak she thought she’d buried rose to the surface. “Speaking of men putting their hands on me, if this is your brand of torture, I’m disappointed.”

Thrusting himself up against her, he growled again. “Baby, my brand of torture involves that riding crop you bent over to pick up. Matter of fact, it involves you being bent over also.”

An audible gasp of surprise escaped her. His threat pulled at something deep inside of her that she didn’t know was there. Something dark and terrifying that she knew she should feel dirty and ashamed of. But she didn’t. Because apparently he wasn’t the only one who was twisted like that.

“Surprised?” he asked with a knowing look in his eyes.

“That you know what a riding crop is? Yeah.” She forced herself to smirk at him so he wouldn't see that she was a trembling mess of desire.

Trailer:

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caisey Quinn lives in Birmingham, Alabama with her husband, daughter, and other assorted animals. She is the bestselling author of the Kylie Ryans series as well as several New and Young Adult Romance novels featuring country girls finding love in unexpected places. You can find her online at www.caiseyquinnwrites.com. 

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Excerpt/Book Spotlight: City of Lights by Melika Dannese Lux

City of Lights Excerpt: Diva in the Wings

Taken from City of Lights: The Trials and Triumphs of Ilyse Charpentier, Chapter 1, A Chance Meeting

       The balmy night air of August had served to fill the halls of La Perle de Paris to capacity once again. Not a seat was unoccupied, save one quiet table in a secluded, unlit corner of the club—a table that was always reserved. The chants had commenced long ago, a gradual build from a quiet murmur to a dull roar—“Coquette, Coquette, Vive la Coquette!” The raucous mob wanted their star, and in a moment, their hunger would be satisfied.
        “Ten minutes, everyone!” a burly man bellowed, pushing his way through a mass of tulle and silk. He made his way down the backstage corridor until he came upon a solitary girl stealing a peek through the Tyrian purple-hued curtains.
        “Ten minutes, Ilyse, get ready!” he ordered.
        “Yes, Giverne,” she returned, smiling, and watched as he huffed down the hall. In a moment, her olive-brown eyes were once again fixed upon the throng, and she resumed rehearsing her lines. “City of Lights, Paree, do you see?” she sang, “I am the Diva on the stage. Hope—” But her soft chanting was suddenly interrupted by a wild flurry running down the corridor. In an instant, the commotion materialized into a profusion of blonde tendrils, which framed a pleasant round face and a pair of large, over-bright blue eyes.

        “You’re late, Manon,” Ilyse said, trying to sound reproachful as she addressed the frazzled young woman.
       The girl panted stertorously while she tried to straighten her costume and smooth her unruly curls. “Well, you know how it is. Wardrobe problems.”
        “Yes,” Ilyse answered, a knowing smirk playing about the corners of her mouth. “I know exactly how it is … too much chocolat, no?”
       Manon stopped her primping and looked up at her dearest friend. “I can’t help it if I have a sweet tooth!” she blurted out. “Now stop all this nonsense and fasten me up, will you?”
        “Oh, very well,” Ilyse laughed, and abandoned her post to come to her disheveled friend’s rescue. “Now, hold it in.”
        “I can’t,” Manon squeaked.
        “Well, that’s because you’re not wearing your corset.”
        “Never!” Manon retorted as if someone had just accused her of killing Marat. “I can’t wear that monstrous thing. It crushes me terribly. And what’s more, I can’t even breathe with it on.”
        “No one ever said beauty was painless, darling,” Ilyse said, not having any luck in her struggle to hook the fasteners on Manon’s dress.
        “Well, this beauty will go without!”
        “Then it’s hopeless.” Ilyse sighed and released her hold on Manon’s costume. “You’ll have to play ‘Sourd et Muet’ tonight.”
        “Ah, ma foi, such is my fate.”
       For a time, silence reigned, each girl fighting not to be the first to laugh. Finally, as always, Ilyse was the first to break. “Oh, stop playing the martyr, you ridiculous fool!”
       Manon made a lavish bow and struck a theatrical pose. “Don’t you think we should use that in the act?” she suggested, her large cerulean eyes widening expectantly.
        “Oh, most definitely,” Ilyse acquiesced, still laughing. “If only we can get Giverne’s permission.”
        “Forget it, then. Now, enough about Giverne. Is my Marquis out there?”
       Before Ilyse had time to stop her, Manon had pulled back the curtain and poked her head into the hall. “Oh, I see him, the darling,” she cooed, spying her Marquis and flailing her bejeweled hand through the air in a gesture that was meant to be a wave but never amounted to more than a flash of rubies and emeralds.
        “Don’t wave at him, you fool!” Ilyse whispered, and just as she said this, the glare of the candlelit hall vanished and Manon found herself staring at a suffocating wall of purple velvet and her friend’s less-than-pleased face. “Discretion, Manon,” Ilyse reminded, fighting to repress the smile that was threatening to destroy her facade of seriousness, “discretion. We are not to be seen or heard until our grand entrance. How do you expect to keep the Marquis interested?”
        “I suppose that’s true,” Manon agreed. “But I couldn’t help taking just one peek.” Ilyse smiled at her impish friend and noticed that Manon’s irrepressible dimples had appeared—a certain sign of trouble. Whenever those two little indentations arose, Ilyse knew she had to do something to damp Manon’s mischief or there was no telling what social atrocity, however hysterical it might seem in hindsight—and there had been many—her friend might commit.
        “If you’re so interested in peeking, my little sprite, then I have a wonderful surprise for you.”
        “I love surprises!” Manon answered with glee.
        “You’re going to adore this one. Now, if you really want to peek, you must do it like so.” Ilyse took hold of Manon’s hand and drew back a corner of the curtain so that only a sliver of light shone through. “Look who’s here.”
        “Where, where?!” Manon squealed, her eyes roving over the crowded room.
        “Why, there in the back. If it isn’t Gaspard and his troupe of provincial darlings! Oh, what fun it will be for you to dance with them. And look! That fat one in the front has seen you! Oh, wave, Manon, wave and show him your smile! Make that Marquis of yours insanely jealous!” Ilyse uttered a musical little fake-laugh and gave Manon a playful shove.
       Manon let the curtain fall from her grasp as though it had singed her fingers and stared at Ilyse. “I find your humor lacking, Ilyse” Manon said sourly. “The last time I danced with Gaspard’s band of ruffians I couldn’t walk for a week and my feet will never forgive you for pushing me into that rustic’s arms!”
        “Oh, come now, Manon,” Ilyse laughed, “It’s my job to liven things up a bit, too. I can’t let you and your dimples have all the fun.”
        “All right, all right,” Manon said, rising to the challenge, “Well, I saw my Marquis, and I saw Gaspard and his bumpkins, God save my feet, but I didn’t see him.”
       The instant Ilyse heard this word, all her previous mirth vanished and a terrible mix of anger and fear roiled within her. “Sergei?”
        “No…No,” Manon stumbled. “Not him, never him. I meant your ‘one true love,’ of course.”
       Ilyse’s brow relaxed and her lips curled into a faint smile as she remembered the little secret she and Manon shared.
        “Oh, Manon, for the five years we have known one another, you’ve never missed an opportunity of showing me how hopelessly naïve I actually am. Well, who’s to say he’s not out there? What harm is there in hoping, however futile the hope may be? This nightly ritual is my escape. Don’t begrudge me this little reprieve.”
       Manon, usually so effervescent, seemed crushed by her dearest friend’s accusations and blushed with shame. “Ilyse, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I never meant to make light of your feelings. Don’t hold it against me, ma soeur, don’t.”
       Regardless of what had passed, Ilyse was incapable of holding a grudge against her confidant and only friend. “I know you meant no harm, Manon. Forgive me for acting so maudlin, it’s just that I feel as though I can’t keep up this charade much longer. If I didn’t have you to make me laugh and be my one light in this darkness, I don’t know how I could’ve survived all these years. He torments me by day with his ceaseless advances, and at night, even while I’m onstage, he finds a way to invade my peace. He’s always there, waiting for me to give in. But I swear I won’t. I don’t fear him as I did before. My fear has been overtaken by anger and turned to defiance. I hate him, Manon. It sickens my heart terribly.” Ilyse lifted her eyes and saw Manon standing motionless, lost in thought. Though she didn’t say a word, Ilyse knew exactly what was racing through Manon’s mind, for she had heard it all before—the painful memories of the past that bore uncanny similarities to the existence Ilyse had described. But in Manon’s circumstances, unspeakable terror had never allowed defiance to surface. She had been an impressionable young girl, dreaming of stardom, allowing him to lead her down a path from which there could be no return. He had robbed her of her fortune, although he was richer than all the kings of Europe combined, and destroyed everything she held dear. She refused his advances, and when she tried to escape, he committed a crime so drastic that she was forced to keep silent or die. Luc Dagenais had been her one true love, and the innocent Provencal had been murdered simply because he had given her his heart—an unpardonable offense in the eyes of her jealous patron. And so the years passed, and Manon fell out of favor, replaced by Gervaise, Collette, Brigitte, and finally Ilyse, who had become his most favorite of all. She had stayed for her dearest friend, and also because La Perle offered her the only respectable means of survival—a cabaret where she could earn a decent living without selling her soul to the devil himself. So was the fate of Manon Larue.

       And Ilyse knew the vicious cycle would continue until she herself put a stop to it. But those were thoughts for another moment, for the public would not be kept waiting. The crowd was restless. Violent invectives were being hurled, if the mob were not satisfied, chaos would break loose. The star’s time had come.
       Giverne blustered through the line of dancing girls, nearly stampeded Manon into oblivion, and snatched Ilyse by the arm. “You, now,” he boomed, “get onstage!!!” And before she had time to blink, he had already begun to raise the curtain.
        “Bonne chance, Ilyse!” Manon squealed, but her voice was drowned by the crowd’s rabid cries.
       La Petite Coquette had arrived!

About the book:

What would you risk for the love of a stranger?

Ilyse Charpentier, a beautiful young chanteuse, is the diva of the 1894 Parisian cabaret scene by night and the unwilling obsession of her patron, Count Sergei Rakmanovich, at every other waking moment.

Though it has always been her secret desire, Ilyse’s life as “La Petite Coquette” of the Paris stage has turned out to be anything but the glamorous existence she had dreamt of as a girl. As a young woman, Ilyse has already suffered tragedy and become estranged from her beloved brother, Maurice, who blames her for allowing the Count to drive them apart.

Unhappy and alone, Ilyse forces herself to banish all thoughts of independence until the night Ian McCarthy waltzes into her life. Immediately taken with the bold, young, British expatriate, Ilyse knows it is time to choose:  will she break free and follow her heart or will she remain a slave to her patron’s jealous wrath for the rest of her life?

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About The Author:

I have been an author since the age of fourteen and write Young/New Adult historical romance, suspense, supernatural/paranormal thrillers, fantasy, sci-fi, short stories, novellas—you name it, I write it! I am also a classically trained soprano/violinist/pianist and have been performing since the age of three. Additionally, I hold a BA in Management and an MBA in Marketing.

If I had not decided to become a writer, I would have become a marine biologist, but after countless years spent watching Shark Week, I realized I am very attached to my arms and legs and would rather write sharks into my stories than get up close and personal with those toothy wonders.

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