Book Blitz + Giveaway: Up For Forever (Up For Grabs #2) by Heather Young-Nichols

Up For Forever (Up For Grabs #2)
by Heather Young-Nichols
Publisher: Swoon Romance
Release Date: September 1st 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance


Synopsis:

For Kendra Roberts, love is for fairy tale princesses who don’t live in the real world. Mr. Right? What a joke. It’s more like Mr. Right Now.

But imagine her surprise when she realizes it’s been two whole years, and Mr. Right Now has become something more. How the hell did that happen?

Panic sets in when Kendra finds out that Adam Burger might be planning a future for them and making her his “Mrs.” Mrs. Burger.

Not. So. Fast.

Kendra ends things with Adam, feeling bad for letting things go this far.

After months of trying to convince herself she made the right decision, a mutual friend’s wedding throws them back together again.

In one mind-blowing moment, Kendra comes to the crushing realization that she’s been in love with Adam all along.

But when Adam seems to have already moved on, will Kendra fight for their forever after? Or will she let her once Mr. Right Now go and become someone else’s Mr. Right?

“What did I do?” I cried hysterically to the sky once we were on the sidewalk. I had to move, my skin was crawling, I wanted to tear it off my bones, but instead, I headed to the left then turned around. Back and forth. Pacing. I was pacing the streets of New York for God and everyone to see. The blaring horns of the taxis blended into the loud hums of the engines. “What did I do, Flannery?” I yelled.

“What’s going on?” Ava put those blue eyes on me without judgment. She looked scared though. Concerned.

“She broke up with Adam.”

“Why?” Her eyes were wide with complete and utter disbelief.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot. What did I do?” Sliding down the side of a building until my butt smacked the pavement, I sunk my hands into my hair pulling it tightly around my fingers.

“We can fix this.” Flannery sat beside me. “Everything can be fixed.”

I have been writing since I was a kid when I wrote short stories for my mom and gave them to her as gifts. She loved it. Then I wrote my first novel length story in 2009 and have been going strong since then.

So I love coffee (usually the cold kind), I love books (usually the hot kind). If I’m not writing (which I do a lot of) and I’m not spending time with my family, you can find me with a book or my Kindle. I still prefer print and buy my favorites even when I already have them digitally but I do use my Kindle relentlessly.

September 2013 was the month things got real. I signed my very first book deal with Swoon Romance that I am totally hand flapping and nerdy dancing over.

All author photos by Autumn Zolton Reyes

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Book Blitz + Giveaway: The Frenchman (Crime Royalty Romance #1) by Lesley Young

The Frenchman (Crime Royalty Romance #1)
by Lesley Young
Publication date: December 2nd 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance

Synopsis:

Fleur Smithers rarely veers off the straight and (excruciatingly) narrow. So moving to the seaport town of Toulon to live with her newfound biological mother—an inspector with the French National Police—for one year is a pretty major detour. 

Son of France’s crime royalty family and international rugby star, Louis Messette, is devoted to his sport, famille and nothing else. But the carefree American he meets one night changes everything. She sparks a desire in him like no other. Possession takes root. She will do as he commands. 

Bit by bit Fleur slips into the Frenchman’s realm of wanton pleasure agreeing to his one condition: that she keep their affair secret. She serves up her heart without reservation in the hub of the glittering Côte d’Azur, and the along the soulful Seine in Paris, unaware of the danger she is in. For her new lover’s family business will pit her against her mother, the police woman sworn to bring down the Messettes. And by then, far more than Fleur’s heart will be on the line. 

READER WARNING: This novel contains explicit sex.

After a moment, when I steeled my resolve, the door opened.

Not Louis.

A man with salt and pepper hair, a nasty scar above his lip and astute eyes, scanned me. “Oui?” he asked rudely.

I hesitated, but then thought, I’m all in.

“Je suis venue pour voir Louis.”

He scanned me much more carefully, and his dark eyes stopped at the cash in my hand. After his eyebrows rose, ever so slightly, his face relaxed and a side hitched up. He shrugged and opened the door wider.

I stepped into another foyer, encased in a marble, circular partition. With one last wave of jacked-up energy, I barreled around the wall, quickly scanning the, holy massive, space, hesitating only to admire the incredible view provided from floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere. Gorgeous kitchen, too. I sucked in a waft of cooked chicken. God I missed meat. Pausing to get my bearings—this was an extremely large suite—I followed the faint sound of the television sports game. There was the living room. I spotted a giant flat screen against a wall, blinds tugged down around it.

My heart was going a mile a minute, my hands shaking. I couldn’t turn back now. I stepped down the two stairs, powered across the empty dining room area, into the living room space, aiming straight for the middle, where . . . my eyes scanned quickly . . . there were others present, two, I think, standing behind one sectional.

Ah-ha!

There sat Louis, legs wide apart, on a giant leather sofa, a remote in one hand and an empty plate of chicken bones beside him. He was in a pair of track pants and nothing else. To say he was shocked, when he realized the girl standing in front of him was not a cute American announcer suddenly on his TV screen, was an understatement.

“Fleur,” he exclaimed sitting forward, absolutely no fat bunching at the waist.

“What the hell is this?!” I shouted at him, waving the cash.

I watched red sprout in his cheeks as he glanced around at the chilled room, and back on me. His eyes took in the money, and my other hand on my hip. He stood up to his full, mighty height, extra slow, his eyes steady on me.

But I wasn’t intimidated. Not in the least. He was way out of line.

“You know what? In America, you pay—” I shook the wad of cash at him “—after you’ve finished the transaction.” I threw the money at him but it didn’t get very far. It kind of fluttered to the floor.

Holy cow. Did I really just say that? That is not what I had meant to say. It just came out.

Waves of regret rippled through me as he pulled his head back, and his lips bunched up, contemptuous. Disgust spread on his face like ink.

And who could blame him? There I was, standing in his living room, lamenting the fact he had not bopped me. Oh sweet mercy.

by Lesley Young

Author Lesley Young makes the case for why Frenchmen make for good romance novels reads

Obviously I am totally biased here, since my novel The Frenchman is set in France and features a hot, Alpha hero from Toulon (to up the ante I also made him a super fit rugby player and utterly rude). Anyway, I took my job quite seriously and researched the heck out culturally significant romantic facts. I mention a few here (the rest are based on one bout of firsthand experience in my youth). 

Zhe accent

Seriously, is there a sexier accent, especially delivered in a soft, deep, hoarse murmur, at least, prevalent in romance novels? Oh sure, the old Scottish brogue will give you the odd pang, but it’s hardly as elegant, slick and let’s all agree — exciting. If I had an Amazon.com gift card for every book I read with, “Aye, ya wee lass...”

Fashion sense

Frenchman have some. Should I leave it at that? I know us novelists tend to dress our North American heroes quite snazzy, but readers know better. I like to think that’s another reason why The Frenchman is so realistic—you think maybe you could meet a truly debonair man just like Louis Messette in real life. . . 

You’ll know when he’s into you

Little known fact: Frenchmen don’t play games. They’ll call you the day after your first date, eager to set up the next one. Date three he’ll call you his girlfriend. Week two he might say he loves you! While my Frenchman, Louis Messette, didn’t play it straight, when he made up his mind about my heroine Fleur Smithers, he was ALL IN.

Attitude

He’ll look you straight in the eye and always mean what he says, with emphasis. Yup, um. . . what was I writing about? Oh yeah, I made sure Louis held true to this truism, ack! (sorry, I got distracted there).

They invented the phrase je ne sais quo

Yes, they are so overwhelmed with adoration for you that they are unable to quite articulate why. This doesn’t mean your Frenchman will be complimenting you all the time (it does happen!) so much as openly admiring you—in all the ways that make your heart race.

Tell me if I delivered on these pluses in The Frenchman available Amazon.com http://amzn.com/B00QJGFZMM. Thanks for the opportunity and please stay in touch at

Facebook.com/LesleyYoungBooks, @LesleyYoungBks and LesleyYoungBooks.com.

Lesley Young is a genre-defying author of unforgettable heroines who experience thrilling life- and love-altering journeys. Her debut novel was Sky's End; her most recent stand-alone series, Crime Royalty Romance, includes The Frenchman and The Australian. She loves to hear from readers.

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Book Blitz + Giveaway: Motocross Me by Cheyanne Young

Motocross Me
by Cheyanne Young
Release Date: June 4th 2013
Genres: Romance, Young Adult

Synopsis:

When Hana Fisher moves to the small town of Mixon, Texas to live with her dad, she dreads having to work at the boring pile of dirt he fondly calls a motocross track. But when she gets there, she finds the rinky-dink dirt bike track from her childhood has grown into the most respected racing track in the state.

Now popular by association, Hana endures the pain and sweat of working in the summer heat in order to fit in with a sport she’s growing to love. She gets a real family, a best friend and not just one, but two of the fastest racers trying to win her heart.

When Hana abuses her status as the track owner’s daughter to help the gorgeous Ryan Russo cheat in the biggest race of the year, she risks more than just losing her job. Every good thing in her life is at stake now- her friends, her dad’s trust, and Ash Carter- the kind-hearted racer who may not be as alluring as Ryan, but is proof that nice guys don’t always finish last.

Just because they’re the two fastest two-fifty Pro riders in Texas, doesn’t mean they have a reason to hate each other. I promise myself I’ll find out the big secret that Shelby doesn’t know. I’ll find it and I’ll fix it. But when I see Ryan, all thoughts of anything remotely comprehensible drift out of my mind like a message in a bottle, tossed out to sea.

He’s on the tailgate of his truck, slouched over with his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground and breathing heavily. A half-empty bottle of lemon-lime Gatorade teeters in his hand. Sweat rolls off his hair in all directions – down his ear, through his bangs, and probably down the back of his neck though I can’t see that far. It’s amazing how something as gross as sweat can be so gorgeous sparkling in the sunlight on a sculpted, beautiful, and extremely talented body.

I have to stop thinking in metaphors, or my heart might share the fate of an over-inflated water balloon. There I go again. I slow my steps so as not to seem eager, and approach him with as much apathy as I can gather in my weakened state of mind. Apathy is, after all, one of my more prominent talents. 

“Hey there,” I say, hands in my front pockets. Ryan looks up and sweat rolls down his temples like water. For something with no body fat, how was that much sweat coming out of his head?

“Hey.” He shuffles to the left and taps his hand on the spot next to him. The tailgate is as high as my neck so there is no way I can climb up there. He sees my hesitation and grins.

“Put your foot on the tire and grab my hand and I’ll pull you up.”

I do as he says, and when my foot is on the tire I grab onto the side of the truck and reach for his hand. In one swift motion he pulls me onto the tailgate like how Wesley saved Buttercup from harm in the Fire Swamp. There may not be any Rodents of Unusual Size under Ryan’s truck, but it’s fun to daydream.

My legs swing freely below me. I need to say something clever that will show off my intellect and charm, or at least make it seem like I have some. Ryan gulps the rest of his Gatorade and tosses the bottle on the ground.

“So what kind of gas mileage do you get with this thing?” I ask.

He laughs. All of my careful conversation planning, and he laughs.

“If you really want to know, I get about ten miles to the gallon with these tires.”

He leaps off the tailgate, grabs the empty bottle and tosses it in a blue plastic trashcan. Then he comes back to his truck and unzips a large duffle bag full of clothing and extra riding gear.

“Sometimes it’ll get up to twelve.” He chooses a white t-shirt from the bag.

“That must get really expensive.”

“I can afford it.” He grins, removing his jersey in a quick motion. My heart stops and a chill runs through my body. I curse myself for wasting sixteen years of life never noticing how gorgeous a man’s chest can be. How could I have been missing out on this? But then again, I’ve never seen one this close. With the t-shirt still in his hand, he stands in front of me on the ground, letting his eyes meet mine. I’m so high in the air, I can probably see over the top of his head if I dared to look away from his shirtless torso, but that isn’t a dare I want to make.

“Girls ask a lot of questions about my truck but that my dear, is never one of them.”

“Well, maybe I’m just not that kind of girl.” Girls ask him about his truck? Way to be original, Hana.

 “And what kind of girl are you?” He keeps the shirt in his hand and put his elbows on the tailgate on either side of me. My stomach does a somersault.

“Whatever kind of girl you want me to be,” I say. It’s lame and cliché, but it feels like something a guy like Ryan would want to hear.

He’s close to me. Really close. Closer than a guy has ever been to me. He is still shirtless. Does he want me to feel this uncomfortable and intimidated? Do I want him to? My heart is no longer dead; it is, in fact, beating faster and louder than it has in that whole semester I took of cross country running.

He curls out his bottom lip and peers into my eyes. We are so close now I’m afraid to breathe. My heart thumps and my brain is a blurred frenzy trying to make coherent thoughts from the electrical currents shooting through my veins.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He leans closer to me. “I really like your little good girl image.”

His lips hover inches from mine. I brace for him to kiss me. He backs away and puts on the shirt. I sigh with force of the breath I had been holding. Ryan notices. How freaking mortifying. At least it’s dusk and the sun is setting in on us because my cheeks burn with the fury of a thousand suns. What if he wasn’t about to kiss me and I just thought he was and now he thinks I’m a loser?

He straightens the shirt over his abs and reaches up to help me jump down. My feet hit the ground and a little poof of dirt covers my shoes. His arms slip around my waist and pulls me straight into him. We kiss. Right on the lips.

And we’re still kissing.

KISSING.

His hands let go of me and his lips tear away from mine. I think he says something but I don’t know. All I know is I just got my second ever kiss and this time, it wasn’t from a lanky kid with braces.

· Cruise – Florida Georgia Line

· Hey Stephen by Taylor Swift (This song reminds me of how Hana chases after Ryan.)

· Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want – The Smiths

· Your Love Is My Drug - Kesha

· Shake It – Metro Station (A good hanging out at the motocross track song)

· All Your Life – The Band Perry (The line about fireflies inspired the firefly scene with Ash <3)

· Saying Sorry – Hawthorne Heights

· The Highway Don't Care – Tim McGraw & Taylor Swift (Her going away to college song)

· That's What I'm Here for – Jason Castro (This song is for the last chapter)

· We Will Rock You by Queen – The perfect racing song. We used to listen to this while driving to the motocross track every Sunday

· Let it Rock by Kevin Rudolf – A great pump-up song before the races.

· The Distance by Cake – Another great song about racing.

· All Your Life – The Band Perry – The line about fireflies inspired the firefly scene with Ash <3

· Sweet Medicine – Jason Castro

Cheyanne is a native Texan with a fear of cold weather and a coffee addiction that probably needs an intervention. She loves books, sarcasm, nail polish and paid holidays. She lives near the beach with her family, one spoiled rotten puppy and a cat that is plotting to take over the world, one scratched up welcome mat at a time.

She's a cubicle dweller and all around sarcastic weirdo by day. But at night, Cheyanne can be found furiously typing on her computer, probably complaining on Twitter about how she should be writing. When she's not honing her procrastination skills, she's writing books for teenagers. She is the author of several books for teens and recently turned her love of superheroes and writing for teens into books about teenage superheroes. POWERED is her first superhero book but it won't be her last. Because POWERED is a trilogy. Duh.

Want to get an email when my next book is released? Sign up here: https://tinyletter.com/CheyanneYoung

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