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“A Garden in Cornwall (A Wedding in Cornwall Book 12)” by Laura Briggs

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coverWith their lives exactly what they’ve always dreamed, Matt and Julianne await the arrival of the third member of their family — but their happiness is threatened when their landlady Mathilda announces her intention to sell their beloved Rosemoor Cottage for an impossible value. Devastated, Julianne struggles to accept the cold reality of her and Matt making their home elsewhere.

Matt’s life has taken a new turn as he finally puts aside his academic work to pursue his gardening hobby as a career:  his first new job as a landscape designer involves neglected Penwill Hall’s ‘lost’ garden — one with a truly romantic Cornish past. But the task of restoring its legendary beauty from nearly seventy years ago proves difficult among the ruins lost in weeds and wilderness.

With notions of secret gardens and wartime stories echoing in her thoughts, Julianne is determined to help Matt and the estate’s new owner after the discovery of a hidden mural in the hall itself, depicting a breath-taking garden that may well be the lost one. Her efforts to uncover the past lead her to a curmudgeonly local gardener who just may hold the knowledge that would restore the ‘lost garden’ to its former glory. Will Julianne’s quest help her find a way to deal with losing the home she loves?

Hellos and farewells abound as Dinah returns to lend a helping hand at Cliffs House and Julianne relives her favourite memories of her and Matt’s beloved cottage in Book Twelve — the final installment in the bestselling series A WEDDING IN CORNWALL.

Purchase Link – http://smarturl.it/agardenincornwall

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EXCERPT

Thanks so much to Felicia for letting me share about my latest book with her readers here on Nesie’s Place! It’s called A Garden in Cornwall and is the final installment in a series of twelve novellas about American event planner Julianne’s adventures living in Cornwall. In this scene, Julianne and her husband Matt are discussing his latest job, which involves restoring a forgotten garden among the ruins of an old castle. Which somehow leads to the topic of possible names for their yet unborn baby!

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I sighed, and settled more closely against him. “I wonder what the castle’s name was, when it was still standing,” I said. “Before it became part of the ‘ruins garden.'”

“We’ll never know,” said Matt. “Not unless someone finds a very antiquated map of Cornwall which happens to reveal it. Although that seems almost as likely at this point as finding a photo of the garden seventy years ago.”

“Does the garden have Cornish heath in it?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” said Matt. “Only some lady’s smock in a very small patch. We’re outside the heath’s territory on those grounds, by the realities of both geography and agriculture.”

“A pity,” I said. I felt Matt’s cheek rest against my head.

“You know,” he said. “Heath really would be a decent name for a boy.”

“Wouldn’t it?” I said. “I think Marigold would be a nice name for a girl. It makes me think of the garden. Of the ones you picked for me when I first came here.”

“Of course … Marigold Rose,” he pointed out.

“So?” I said. “I can think of worse names to be stuck with.”

I felt his smile even though I couldn’t see it, the soft movement of his cheek against my hair. “I had forgotten about those marigolds,” he said. “I had an abundance of them in pots. The lady’s smock was in the trench box on the far side of the hothouse that year, where I was propagating more of it for the preservation group.”

“You raided your special stash just for me?” I said. “I’m touched.”

“You were worth it.” He kissed the top of my head. “Where is the list of names?” he asked. “I’ll write these down if you like.”

“Not yet,” I said. “I’m too comfy to let you go,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. “It’s been a long day and we both have to work tomorrow. Let’s just stay here for awhile, and doze off before our tiny fire.”

“I’m not sleepy,” said Matt, chuckling. “Of course, I’m not the one carrying a small entity which relies on me to eat and breathe, either. But if you want me to stay here, I will.” He placed his hand over the baby’s presence beneath my white blouse, fingers moving gently with this touch. “Shall I tell you a bedtime story?” he asked.

“Sure. Tell me more about the garden,” I said. A bedtime story from my childhood, the locked garden of roses and spring crocus and daffodils, slumbering alive beneath the thick blanket of dead leaves.

“I think I told you almost every detail in the car,” he said.

“You must have missed something,” I murmured. “Describe it for me. I won’t see it until Saturday, but I want to picture it in the meantime.”

I felt Matt settle against me more comfortably. “You’ve seen the path to it already from the hall’s windows, but if you follow it into the glen, then climb to the top of the hill that overlooks the partly-dug pond in the field, you see the first stones over the grass on the land rise,” he began. “It’s not wild grass, but a domesticated variety that wrapped itself around the former cornerstone of the castle … ”

I wasn’t drowsy enough to fall asleep, so Matt’s bedtime story only transported me away to the images I had seen of the hall’s famous garden. Curled up on our comfy but stiff old sofa, with the scent of Matt’s garden flowers in the mantel vase in the air and the quiet creak of our house settling, even sleep couldn’t make me more content than I already felt.

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Laura Briggs

Author Bio – Laura Briggs is the author of several lighthearted romance novels and novellas, including the bestselling Amazon UK series A Wedding in Cornwall. She has a fondness for vintage-style dresses (especially ones with polka dots), and reads everything from Jane Austen to modern day mysteries. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with family, caring for her pets, going to movies and plays, and trying new restaurants.

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G I V E A W A Y

Win an e-copy (Digital) of A Garden in Cornwall (Open Internationally)

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*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Rafflecopter box below.  The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then I reserve the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time I will delete the data.  I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.

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#Excerpt “The Picture (When Greed Turns Deadly)” by Roger Bray 18+

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A warehouse in Japan used as an emergency shelter in the aftermath of the 2011 Tsunami. A distraught, young Japanese woman in disheveled clothes sits on a box, holding her infant daughter. Ben, a US rescue volunteer, kneels in front of her offering comfort. They hug, the baby between them. The moment turns into an hour as the woman sobs into his shoulder; mourning the loss of her husband, her home, the life she knew. A picture is taken, capturing the moment. It becomes a symbol; of help freely given and of the hope of the survivors. The faces in the picture cannot be recognised, and that is how Ben likes it. No celebrity, thanks not required.

But others believe that being identified as the person in the picture is their path to fame and fortune. Ben stands, unknowingly, in their way, but nothing a contract killing cannot fix.

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EXCERPT

Context:  Vince Brown is a key protagonist in the story, he hits on the idea of a reality TV show focusing on natural disasters.  He thought of the idea after seeing how much money was donated after the Japanese Tsunami.  In a chance meeting in a bar with a TV producer he lets the other man think that Vince is the key figure in an iconic picture taken during the Tsunami relief effort, which he is not.  As a throwaway line he thought it unimportant but it takes on primary importance when the idea of a reality TV show is closer.  Vince’s celebrity has begun to grow and he is being introduced as the ‘guy in the picture’.  Vince is starting to reap the rewards he believes he deserves and won’t give up easily.

Lying naked on the big bed, with both hands behind his head, Vince smiled to himself as he watched the girl, equally naked except for a big, floppy and overly fluffy Santa hat, pour two flutes of champagne and then come back to the bed, passing one of the glasses to him.

Vince reached out and took the offered glass as the girl knelt on the bed next to him and raised her glass.

“Happy Christmas, Vince, I hope there will be a lot more like this one.”

Vince held his glass up.

“Happy Christmas, and I’m sure that there will be plenty more to come,” he said before thinking, but probably not with you, darlin’.

Their last seminar had pulled them in over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars profit, and sixty thousand in voluntary donations, which is how they intended to disguise the overflowing buckets that had multiplied since the one first mayo tub. After they had divided the cash, they had separated for the holidays with Vince heading for Vegas and Beck for … well, Vince didn’t actually care. They had organized to meet up in Boise in the New Year.

Beck had already put out some feelers with a couple of local stations for a chat show spot, Vince wasn’t sure which station, CBS or NBC, one of those, whichever, it didn’t matter, one of those gigs and maybe a couple of radio spots as well, and their advertising would be pretty much done for them.

By Easter, if it all worked out, Vince knew he would have more cash than he knew what to do with, and then the real work would start. That was where Beck would come into his own.

Vince had to admit that Beck was good at setting up the TV spots; he had a way about him, trust even. He could sell an idea, and that idea was Vince the winner, Vince the savior of small communities, Vince the good guy that people could believe in.

Everyone liked to be associated with a winner and with a peoples’ champion, and Beck was selling that to the networks. And if Vince was a winner, well next time round people would tune into them, viewers meant numbers and numbers meant advertising which meant more cash for the network. And all because, Beck impressed upon them, they had taken a small chance on someone who was a sure fired goddamned American hero in the making.

But the real reason Beck was on board was his skill at tax avoidance schemes or of blatantly spiriting the money away where only Vince would know where to look.

In the meantime, they had cash, and lots of it. Expenses Beck had dismissed as trivial, but Vince wasn’t so sure he knew, he’d seen how these things could so easily blow up in someone’s face. Get pulled over by the cops on a routine check, no problem except for the few hundred thousand in the glove box.

“Can you explain this, sir? No?”

And suddenly they were all over you like sweat on a fat girl, and the IRS would come on in like an uninvited and unwanted guest at a family funeral.

Vince didn’t want to leave that to chance; he didn’t want to leave anything to chance, not now, not with this. This was his big score, played right this could set him up, played badly and … well, he didn’t want to even think about that.

What Vince needed was a way to launder his cash for now and do it in a way that was foolproof and that even Beck didn’t know about and where better to hide that money away and scrub it clean than a casino.

Vince had played the tables for twelve hours straight when he had first arrived three days before. His play money carefully separated, he had started with an even sixty thousand and had doubled it on the night and doubled that again at this and two other casinos on the second day.

He was on fire. On. Fucking. Fire, man.

A professional sycophant in the employ of the casino had seen the pile of chips that Vince had won on the first night and had insisted he accept a room upgrade with an open invitation to eat for free at any of the casino’s restaurants, buffets, or room service, a seemingly endless supply of De Margerie Grand Cru Cuvee, and an introduction to the naked girl next to him, whose name was …

Fuck!

Something beginning with … S, no, sounds like an S but it was … Cynthia, Cyn for short. How apt.

Vince smiled and put his glass down and reached out and cupped his hand over her closest breast. Cyn threw her leg across him and moved until she was squatting over his waist.

Oh yeah, Vince thought putting his hands back behind his head and looking up at the girl, this is going to be a fucking excellent Christmas, and this was only the beginning of his plans.

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK   |   Amazon CA   |   Amazon AU

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Roger Bray1Author Bio –  I have always loved writing; putting words onto a page and bringing characters to life. I can almost feel myself becoming immersed into their lives, living with their fears and triumphs. Thus, my writing process becomes an endless series of questions. What would she or he do, how would they react, is this in keeping with their character? Strange as it sounds, I don’t like leaving characters in cliffhanging situations without giving them an ending, whichever way it develops.
My life to date is what compels me to seek a just outcome, the good will overcome and the bad will be punished. More though, I tend to see my characters as everyday people in extraordinary circumstances, but in which we may all find our selves if the planets align wrongly or for whatever reason you might consider.

Of course, most novels are autobiographical in some way. You must draw on your own experiences of life and from events you have experienced to get the inspiration. My life has been an endless adventure. Serving in the Navy, fighting in wars, serving as a Police officer and the experiences each one of those have brought have all drawn me to this point, but it was a downside to my police service that was the catalyst for my writing.

Medically retired after being seriously injured while protecting a woman in a domestic violence situation IRoger Bray2 then experienced the other side of life. Depression and rejection. Giving truth to the oft said saying that when one door closes another opens I pulled myself up and enrolled in college gaining bachelor and master degrees, for my own development rather than any professional need. The process of learning, of getting words down onto the page again relit my passion for writing in a way that I hadn’t felt since high school.

So here we are, two books published and another on track.

Where it will take me I have no idea but I am going to enjoy getting there and if my writing can bring some small pleasure into people’s lives along the way, then I consider that I will have succeeded in life.

 

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Writer Wednesday | “Family Matters”

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Even though loss shaped Olivia Chandler’s life, she never learned how to deal with it. Thrust into the foster care system as a child, little Livvie Chandler was told to ‘just forget’ and ‘be good.’ And for twenty-eight years, that’s what she did.

In this short snippet, Olivia finds out Willis Benson is terminally ill. The executor of her father’s will has been protector, mentor and surrogate father to the closed-off attorney.

Olivia moved on after her father’s death and her mother was sent away, but this could be the loss that sends her spiraling out of control.

 

via Writer Wednesday | “Family Matters”

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#BlogTour “She’s Bad News” by Elle Spellman

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CoverWhat would you do if you woke up with super powers?

For Bella Brown, life hasn’t gone according to plan. She’s almost thirty, still living in her uneventful hometown, and her dreams of becoming an investigative reporter have fallen by the wayside.

That is, until she wakes up one morning to find she’s been gifted with some amazing new abilities. What’s a girl to do with heightened senses, super speed and the ability to lift a truck one-handed? Bella quickly discovers that her new powers can easily help her land front-page leads at local newspaper The Hartleybourne Gazette.

Soon Bella’s out every night chasing down local criminals for stories, while keeping her powers a secret from everyone besides flatmate Chloe. But when a burglary-gone-wrong accidentally turns her into the mysterious Hartleybourne Heroine, Bella finds herself on the front page for the wrong reasons. Her secret becomes harder to keep as she tries to track down the source of her powers, and especially when crime reporter Matt Gilmore is intent on unmasking the town’s new vigilante…

Suddenly, having an extraordinary life is far more dangerous than she ever imagined.

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EXCERPT

She’s Bad News follows Bella Brown, an aspiring journalist in a small town who thinks that luck is against her – that is, until she wakes up with super powers.

In this extract, Bella, an admin at the Hartleybourne Gazette, feels ready to face the pub after being humiliated at work. But first, she decides to take one of the diet pills she’s being forced to review, just to prove to her boss that they don’t work.

 At least, not in the way she’d expect…

 Once inside, I rushed towards the bathroom, peeling off my sweat-encrusted clothing on the way. I opened my bedroom door, kicked off my trainers and hurled my dirty clothes into the growing pile of laundry in the corner of the room. Working on the BodiBurn story had taken up most of my spare time for an entire week, and I hadn’t got round to chores.

The warm water felt good against my aching body. Invigorating. By the time I stepped out ten minutes later and padded out to my room, smelling more like a tropical paradise than sweaty feet, I was in a more positive mood. The workout had been a blast. My muscles were aching, but it was a good kind of pain. With a towel draped around me, I put my glasses back on, quickly tamed my frizzy hair back into its usual ponytail, and dabbed on some lip balm.

I was only going for one solitary drink, but I knew how quickly one drink descended into two, and before you knew it, you were four ciders down and putting the world to rights. So I knew that driving Delilah might not be the best of ideas. The pub wasn’t far, and there was a bus stop just round the corner, so I reached for my bag to check for some change. As I rummaged around, my fingers brushed against the familiar envelope lying dutifully in the confines of my satchel.

I pulled it out.

‘NARCIS diet supplements – now YOU can join in with this brand new weight loss phenomenon! Research has proven that NARCIS UltraBoost is one of the most effective slimming techniques on the market today, guaranteed to help you shed the pounds in just seven days.’

Seven days? Bullshit, I thought. This was absolute nonsense, nothing more than a fad aimed at the insecure. The little tub might as well have had a different message emblazoned across it. You don’t like your body, do you? Of course you don’t. It’s awful. How about something to help with that?

I turned to grab my clothes, and came face to face with my reflection in the full-length mirror that leaned against the wall. Michelle had left it behind. There I was, beneath my warm bedroom light, my normal, everyday self.

I dropped my towel. Now I was completely nude. Nude besides my glasses and the pills I was holding in one hand. I looked at the pills, of the little blissful jumping woman on the front, and then back at my reflection. I saw what I always saw, but then I looked again.

I stepped forward and looked. Really studied myself. Giving myself a detailed once-over, looking for the bits I didn’t really notice the first time. The way my short legs led to curvy hips, which were dappled with cellulite at the top. The roll of belly that would usually peek out from over my jeans, concealed by my favourite flouncy tops, was out in full force now, and I watched myself as I grabbed the soft skin between my hands. My shoulders, dusted with light freckles, were rounded and pale. Not thin. Not muscular, like Chloe’s. But that was okay, wasn’t it? That was just the way I was. The way I looked didn’t affect anything. Staring in the mirror, I was already second-guessing, and that fact alone made me want to take those NARCIS pills and flush them all straight down the toilet.

But then I remembered I had to review the stupid things. What was I meant to say? Save your money – terrible for your body, worse for your soul? Layla wouldn’t let that slide. Not at all.

I could already feel my mood start to dwindle towards irritation. “No,” I told my naked self in the mirror. “Not going to happen!” I wasn’t in the office – Layla was not going to get to me. Not tonight. Not anymore. I’m not sure if it was to do with all those newly-released endorphins, but I was feeling pretty damn determined.

If Layla wanted a review, then she would get a review. If these things were as useless as I expected, then I wasn’t going to lie to my readers. Okay, so my readership mainly consisted of Chloe, a few old ladies and my mother, but still. It was a matter of principle.

I cracked the tub open, shaking out a little white pill into my hand before checking the directions.             ‘Cruelty-free!’ Well, that was a good start. At least I wasn’t going to be ingesting the fruits of bunny-murder. ‘Take no more than one capsule per day, preferably with food…’

I’d eaten a cheese sandwich before the self-defence class. That’d do. Carefully I took the tablet between my fingers, and swallowed it in one gulp.

There. “Done,” I said, with a hint of smugness.

 

~ Purchase Links ~

Amazon UK

Amazon US

 

Author Bio Elle Spellman

Elle Spellman is a writer and comic book geek living in Bristol, UK. She’s been writing since a very young age, spending her childhood afternoons penning stories about fictional adventures, and illustrating them too.

Now, Elle tends to write contemporary fiction with kick-ass heroines and a little bit of magic. She’s Bad News is her debut novel, and she’s just finished working on her second. Her other interests include running, wine, red lipstick, the paranormal, and all things Batman.

 

 

Social Media Links

Twitter

Goodreads Author Page

Blog

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#Excerpt “Sanctuary (Titanomachy Series Book 2)” by Makayla Love

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Excerpt #3:

“Hold still for just a second . . .” Victor Greene, doctor for the United Patriots, muttered under his breath. He filled the syringe with the contents of a MediPal bottle. My heart sped up more and more the closer it got to full. No matter how many times I’m stuck with that damn needle I never seem to be able to stop fearing it.

I think Garth might’ve seen something on my face that betrayed my apprehension. He pulled up the seat next to me at the table where Dr. Greene and I were seated and held onto my hand. The sudden sensation of him brushing his thumb in little circles around my knuckles was enough to shock my attention away from the needle. I thought he was still mad at me for what happened in the library . . . God, how long ago? It seemed like an entire lifetime by that point.

Yet there he was, holding my hand, trying to soothe me away from watching as the needle drew closer. Maybe I was wrong. It wouldn’t have been such a news bulletin if I was.

Dr. Greene put the needle into my vein and pumped the medicine in. A swallowed cry of pain hummed in my throat, fighting hard to get out, wanting to be birthed into the air. But I fought against it. I closed my eyes tight. I tried with everything inside of me to focus not on how much it hurt but instead on Garth’s gentle touch. On the way he squeezed my hand tighter and tighter with the progression of pain on my face.

Then before I knew it Dr. Greene took the needle out of my arm. “There, all done. See? Not so bad—”

“What are we going to do about the guard in our basement?” Mimi snapped, interrupting the doctor’s bedside manner. “I think we ought to talk about that instead of sitting here watching her get a MediPal.” She glared at Garth. “Are you quite ready to talk about it? Or do you still want to play nursemaid?”

“Come on, Mimi,” Walter said with a grin. He stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, drawing his fingernail along cracks in the marble. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“Oh I’m sorry! Am I being a bitch?”

“Kind of a huge one, yeah.”

She flipped him a very unladylike finger.

Instead of being offended, Walter just laughed. “That helps.”

Just when Mimi pushed herself off the wall and started to charge at Walter, perhaps to fight, perhaps to scream in his face, Jack stepped forward. He put a hand on her shoulder. All at once she went rigid and I thought I saw a slight blush creep across the bridge of her button nose. “Okay, okay, let’s not fight among each other. Remember, we’re here to fight Bram.”

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Title: Sanctuary

Author: Makayla Love

Genre: Steampunk / Post-Apocalyptic

Shiloh isn’t adjusting well to her new life in Ironbridge. Life isn’t how she always imagined it would be, and every day is harder than the last. Things only get worse when a small family on their way to a settlement called “Sanctuary” shows up on Shiloh’s doorstep looking for an escort the rest of the way. But Sanctuary isn’t all its supposed to be.

When they find themselves trapped, every second becomes a fight for survival. Can they find a way out before one of them falls to a mad tyrant? Or will their little group be broken up forever?

Amazon: Amazon

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Author Bio

Makayla Love is an aspiring Harley Quinn-esque super villain who has decided to spend her time between nefarious schemes by writing paranormal novels in her lair somewhere in the general Kansas area. She enjoys sit-coms and doesn’t have enough shelf space for her ever multiplying collection of books.

Links

Instagram: @agirl_unwritten
Facebook: Facebook
Blog: Website
Twitter: @AGirl_Unwritten

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#BlogTour “Her Russian Fixer (The Volkov Brothers Series Book 1)” by Leslie North

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Excerpt TWO:

He got up off the pickled oak hardwood floor and wandered in his stockinged feet over to the granite breakfast bar dividing the living room from the well-appointed chef’s kitchen. The majority of the apartment was still a work in progress, but he’d made sure to complete the most important rooms first—kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom. The rest of the place still needed work. The living room walls were nothing but bare drywall, as were the walls in the guest bedroom. The floors needed another sanding, polishing and sealing, and everything needed to be painted.

“It smells incredible in here,” he said, resting his forearms on the cool granite countertop and watching as Lucy flitted back and forth between burners on his stove, humming softly as she worked. “What makes this goulash of yours so special?”

She gave him a coy glance over her shoulder, those full lips of hers curving into a small smile and giving him all sorts of naughty ideas. “Ciekawość to pierwszy stopień do piekła.”

“What does that mean?”

“Curiosity is the first step to hell.” Her wink made him grin. She was teasing him. And damn if he didn’t like it. Too much.

“Well, I’m in big trouble then.” Ben slid onto the stool beside Pavlov and bent to scratch him behind his floppy ears. The dog seemed to have warmed to him and though he’d never planned to have a pet around, the company was kind of nice.

 

Excerpt THREE:

She swallowed hard, the tiny movement drawing his attention to the softness of her skin and the pale column of her throat. He could see the tiny, rapid pulse beating at the base of her neck and battled the insane urge to dip his head down and run his tongue over the sensitive spot.

Lucy gave a slight nod, her eyes wide and her breath held.

Lips compressed, he cursed under his breath and backed away to the opposite side of the elevator. Fuck. This whole attraction he had for her was getting way too far out of hand. It was starting to mess with his concentration and his work. That was completely unacceptable. It was completely wrong on so many levels.

Yet, the tightness in his body and the blood now rushing to his cock said otherwise.

Ding!

The elevator jerked to a halt and the doors slid open and Ben hurried out into the hallway like he had a lit Molotov cocktail shoved up his ass. He didn’t even check to see if Lucy followed. Right now he needed to get his head on straight and his libido under control. Right now, his family was depending on him as never before to get this mission done and recover that money. And family came first. Always.

 

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coverTitle: Her Russian Fixer (Volkov Brothers Book One)

Author: Leslie North

Genre: Romantic Suspense

The line between right and wrong blurs when a ruthless Russian becomes her dark protector.

Benedikt Volkov grew up in Chicago, but his family’s ties to the Russian Mafia run deep. So when his godfather, Pyotr Mishin, steals millions from the Bratva, it’s up to Ben to find him or his family will be forced to pay back the money. However, his careful plans are quickly complicated when an impulsive brunette forces him to become her unlikely hero. Ben hates surprises, and uncontrollable Lucy with her luscious red lips is a distraction that could get them all killed. But with an unexpected connection to his godfather, she may be the key to securing his family’s future.

Lucy Paprocki may be reckless and disorganized, but she finds a new focus when her world is turned upside down. She’s determined to find her real father, Pyotr Mishin—a man she didn’t know existed until recently—and Ben Volkov may be her best chance. One look at his tattooed skin, muscled bulk, and penetrating stare, and Lucy knows Ben is Bratva. The mafia man may be hugely intimidating and wound tighter than a string, but Lucy will have to trust him if she wants to discover the truth about where she comes from.

With danger lurking behind every door, passion quickly ignites between impulsive Lucy and methodical Ben. They may just be using one another to get what they want, but what if all they really need is each other?

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~Author Bio~

Leslie North is the pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women’s contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

The truth of the matter is she loves her fictional persona, Leslie North, more than her normal, day-to-day persona! Her bestselling books focus on strong characters and particularly women who aren’t afraid to challenge an alpha male. Inspired after years of travel, her stories are set all over the world, from the tough streets of Russia to the beautiful beaches of the middle east.

Leslie fell in love with romance when she first picked up a scrappy, dog-eared romance book from her local library. She began writing soon after and the rest, as they say, was history. She now lives in a cozy cottage on the British coast and enjoys taking long walks with her two Dalmatians, George and Fergie.

Read SIX full-length novellas by USA Today best-selling author Leslie North for FREE! Over 548 pages of best-selling romance with a combined 1091 FIVE STAR REVIEWS! Sign-up to her mailing list and get your FREE books HERE!

 

Links

www.leslienorthbooks.com

www.facebook.com/leslienorthbooks

www.twitter.com/leslienorthbook

 

G I V E A W A Y

Three lucky winners will get an eBook of Her Russian Fixer (two winners) or an audiobook of Her Ruthless Russian (one winner).

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#BlogTour “Her Russian Fixer (The Volkov Brothers Series Book 1)” by Leslie North

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Excerpt ONE:

The trouble started with a dog. A girl and a dog, to be more precise.

“Hang on,” Ben Volkov said to his brother Nik on the phone. “Something’s happening.”

“What?” Nik said, his voice urgent. “Is it Mishin?”

“No.” Ben lowered the phone and inched nearer to the brick wall, straining to see past the parked cars hiding him from view. Near the corner, a young woman appeared to be struggling with three gang thugs who were pushing her around, their yelling and taunts escalating to physical violence. By her feet cowered a huge shaggy mutt.

His gut knotted with disgust. He abhorred cruelty in all its forms, even more so because of his family heritage. The girl was obviously in distress, from her flushed face and harried expression, and the dog flinched and quivered each time the gang members stepped near.

He clenched his jaw and leaned back against the cool brick, his designer jeans and fine leather jacket out of place in this rougher neighborhood. Playing the white knight to a strange damsel in distress wasn’t his usual MO. Usually, Ben was the quiet one, the cool, calm, assessing one. But there was something about this girl, this situation, that refused to let him sit on the sidelines.

Knowing there’d be hell to pay from his brother later, Ben got back on the line. “I need to go.”

Nik rattled off a litany of Russian curses, blistering enough for Ben to hold the phone away from his ear for a second. When he got back on the line, he did his best to appease his brother.

“Look, I said I’d find Mishin and the money and I will. I just need to take care of something first.” Ben narrowed his gaze on the girl again. “I’ll meet you later to adjust our plans.”

“You better have a good reason for this, bro,” Nik said, though his threat held no heat. “Are you at least in the right place?”

“Yes. I’m in front of the address you gave me.” His heart tripped as the plaintive howls of the poor dog grew more intense. “I need to go. I’ll meet you at the bar in two hours.”

Ben ended the call without waiting for his brother’s reply. Adrenaline sizzled through his veins as he straightened his jacket then slid the phone into his pocket. It wasn’t his own personal safety he was concerned about. Hell, one didn’t grow up as a Volkov without learning early on how to fight.

No. It was this strange pull he had to rush to this strange woman’s aid. He was halfway to the corner before he even realized he’d moved. The girl turned and caught his gaze, her green eyes sparkling with anger. She was beautiful, he noticed absently as he neared the group.

Without warning, she rushed over to him, the frightened dog tangling around her ankles and nearly tripping her. She grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him close, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek with her cherry-red lips. Her long black hair swirled around him, smelling of cinnamon and vanilla and his body tightened in response.

“Darling, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her voice determined and her smile overly bright. “I warned these guys you were on your way. This is my boyfriend and he’s going to kick your asses!”

“Yeah?” One of the thugs stepped forward, clearly unimpressed. “Him and what army?”

Ben inhaled sharply. He hated these overt displays of aggression, much preferring his drafting tables and construction tools to fighting. Still, when warranted, he could put the fear of God into just about anyone.

 

~~~~~

 

coverTitle: Her Russian Fixer (Volkov Brothers Book One)

Author: Leslie North

Genre: Romantic Suspense

The line between right and wrong blurs when a ruthless Russian becomes her dark protector.

Benedikt Volkov grew up in Chicago, but his family’s ties to the Russian Mafia run deep. So when his godfather, Pyotr Mishin, steals millions from the Bratva, it’s up to Ben to find him or his family will be forced to pay back the money. However, his careful plans are quickly complicated when an impulsive brunette forces him to become her unlikely hero. Ben hates surprises, and uncontrollable Lucy with her luscious red lips is a distraction that could get them all killed. But with an unexpected connection to his godfather, she may be the key to securing his family’s future.

Lucy Paprocki may be reckless and disorganized, but she finds a new focus when her world is turned upside down. She’s determined to find her real father, Pyotr Mishin—a man she didn’t know existed until recently—and Ben Volkov may be her best chance. One look at his tattooed skin, muscled bulk, and penetrating stare, and Lucy knows Ben is Bratva. The mafia man may be hugely intimidating and wound tighter than a string, but Lucy will have to trust him if she wants to discover the truth about where she comes from.

With danger lurking behind every door, passion quickly ignites between impulsive Lucy and methodical Ben. They may just be using one another to get what they want, but what if all they really need is each other?

 

 

~Author Bio~

Leslie North is the pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women’s contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

The truth of the matter is she loves her fictional persona, Leslie North, more than her normal, day-to-day persona! Her bestselling books focus on strong characters and particularly women who aren’t afraid to challenge an alpha male. Inspired after years of travel, her stories are set all over the world, from the tough streets of Russia to the beautiful beaches of the middle east.

Leslie fell in love with romance when she first picked up a scrappy, dog-eared romance book from her local library. She began writing soon after and the rest, as they say, was history. She now lives in a cozy cottage on the British coast and enjoys taking long walks with her two Dalmatians, George and Fergie.

Read SIX full-length novellas by USA Today best-selling author Leslie North for FREE! Over 548 pages of best-selling romance with a combined 1091 FIVE STAR REVIEWS! Sign-up to her mailing list and get your FREE books HERE!

 

Links

www.leslienorthbooks.com

www.facebook.com/leslienorthbooks

www.twitter.com/leslienorthbook

 

G I V E A W A Y

Three lucky winners will get an eBook of Her Russian Fixer (two winners) or an audiobook of Her Ruthless Russian (one winner).

E N T E R

 

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