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When Last comes First: Book Blitz

The thought reverberated around Willow’s head alongside the trance beat. Her trance beat. Eden Jade—better known by her DJ name, Bunny Descent, stood behind the decks on stage, one hand raised. The lights turned her white-blonde hair to pink and her ripped wedding dress was spattered neon by the leaking glow-sticks her fans were waving.
Her perfect face was screwed in concentration as she fiddled with something on the decks. The music transitioned from a hard, pulsing beat to something Willow recognised—‘Self Care’ by Mac Miller. The crowd cheered, more people rushing toward the stage, hands raised. It was three in the morning and the tiny dance floor was thrumming.
Willow had expected the crowd to thin as the night wore on, but the opposite happened. Bunny Descent was the seventh DJ of the night, and the audience was more hyped for her than anyone else. Watching the crowd dance, he felt a surge of pride. From what he’d read in interviews, Eden was scared of not breaking through, worried her sound was too erratic for main stages. But there was no way the woman in front of him wasn’t making it big. She oozed glamour and with each and every song, he grew more amazed she wasn’t famous.
“She is a goddess,” a guy slurred in his ear. “I, like, actually fuckin’ love her.”
Willow turned and saw the guy was talking to his equally fucked up mate, but that didn’t change the fact he was vocalising his own thoughts about Eden.
I’m different, he told himself.
Why?
I just am.
That had always been the only reason he needed. People called him overconfident, but that implied he tried to be confident. He didn’t. He was just lucky. He got what he wanted.
As the music surged higher, Willow danced along with the crowd, working his weight from foot to foot. A few girls smiled, looking for someone to kiss—or maybe because they recognised him, but he only had eyes for Eden. On stage she leant forward, touching the hands of the people dancing in front of her. The second she made contact, the crowd screamed fit to burst the roof. Willow knew exactly how they felt.
He’d been scoping her Instagram for ages, but there was nothing like seeing her in real life. With her long blonde hair and big eyes, she looked like Sailor Moon—his first and most powerful crush. He watched as Eden put her hands behind her head and shook, her tits bouncing in her wedding dress. Attraction burred through him like an electric current. He’d never been so into anyone. Even Sailor Moon. What could that be but true love? As he watched her dance, he made himself a promise—come hell or high water, he’d talk to her tonight.
A hard elbow bashed his side.
“Oi,” Derek shouted over the music. “What are we still doing here? Everyone’s out of their minds.”
Willow danced away from his friend. “I dunno. I’m not tired.”
“You’re never fucking tired. Where’s the patient?”
Willow glanced around. Patrick Normal, better known as Psycho, was swaying softly beside the bar, apparently having forgotten he wanted a beer. “Psycho’s… having a time.”
Derek followed his gaze. “Fuck me, he’s maggoted.”
“Yeah, he’ll be up for hours. Better we’re still out with him, hey?”
“This is all your fault. If Mara was in town, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve made it clear you’ll be dogging the boys from now on, Hardo.”
The track Eden was playing bled into a remix of that Rasputin, love machine song. The dancers packed around the stage, jumping so hard the floor shook. Eden swished her white-blonde hair over her shoulder and his cock throbbed. He could see her doing that while she rode him—looking down her nose as he worked to make her come.
His side burst with pain. He rubbed it, glaring at Derek. “What’s your problem?”
“You. You’re making gorilla noises.”
“You could hear that?”
“Of course, I…” A look of barely concealed terror dawned on Derek’s face. A look Willow knew all too well. He backed away in case Derek decided to put him in a headlock. “What have I done now?”
Derek pointed at the stage. “Please tell me we’re not here because you want to fuck that DJ?”
Willow gave him a winning smile. “Do you want a drink?”
“I wanna know if you dragged me all the way to the city to watch you fail to pick up a DJ.”

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Touching What? Book Blitz

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
PRESENT DAY

Time is a puzzle full of fragments of moments spilled on the canvas of memory. While reflection on some moments may present that canvas as a masterpiece, other times the puzzle comes into focus for what it really is – a hazy image full of lost pieces. Too many memories are lost by time. Precious memories or mundane ones – time has no prejudice. It is an unyielding eraser all the same. And that is the simple beauty of a photograph.

A photograph is a miracle. A rollercoaster of emotion. A constant reminder of the path traveled to the present. And a window into a time which may have long passed, but which comes flooding back to the forefront once unearthed. The sounds, sights, tastes, and aromas of a single moment years ago can all instantly come alive again just because of a photograph. But even beyond this, a photograph can make a memory long forgotten feel as tangible as the photograph being held.

Katie held such a photograph in her hand as she rummaged through her grandfather’s attic. It was a time-worn photograph which any other person would have flipped through without noticing. But Katie noticed it. What the photo depicted surprised her, in more ways than one. She’d seen countless photos of her grandfather before, but they’d all been from after her mother was born. This one was different. Strikingly different. It was the oldest photo she’d ever seen of him. But even more, it showed her grandmother – revealing an unknown chapter to Katie of her grandparents’ mysterious past. The moment she saw the photograph, she knew it would lead her on a journey to not only discover her grandfather’s mysterious past, but the key to her own future as well.

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Cross the Gulf with? Book Blitz

On the drive to Brierly Station, he didn’t speculate about who Miss DeWinter might be. It wasn’t his job to know who she was, only to meet her train and take her safely back to Westfield Court. She wouldn’t be the last of the friends and relatives who would gather as the old man’s life came to its long-awaited and peaceful end.
Brierly was bustling today, as restless as the St. James household. He was in plenty of time for the train and sat in the car reading. The car was a Bentley Mark VI, as well-maintained and highly polished as it was the day it was purchased. The book he was reading was Thomas Hardy’s The Return of the Native.
When the train rumbled in, he got out of the car. He stood patiently on the platform as the passengers disembarked, holding up a small slate on which he had chalked DEWINTER in large capitals. There weren’t many passengers, but they were briefly delayed while the conductor helped a blind woman navigate the steps. Neil’s gaze fell expectantly on a woman in her thirties, with an awful hat, but she was immediately met by a portly man and a teenage boy. No other likely prospects appeared, and he waited for someone to respond to the sign. No one did.
Finally, only two passengers were left on the platform—a small, homely man and the blind woman. Blind girl, really. She couldn’t be more than twenty. She had a jointed white cane, and her large sunglasses didn’t cover the edges of the scars on her face. She would not have been beautiful even without the scars—too thin, for starters, of average height but with small bones. On the other hand, her face might once have been pretty, and her hair was clean and shining, raven black, and well brushed. She was too pale, and the scars around her eyes were red and ugly. She looked a little lost.
Feeling foolish, he lowered the slate. “Miss DeWinter?” he asked as he approached her.
“Yes,” she said, turning toward his voice with a smile.
“I’m Vincent,” he said. “The St. James chauffeur.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vincent,” she said. “Thank you for meeting me.” Her voice was soft, her enunciation perfect.
The porter fetched her luggage—a single gray vinyl suitcase with a flower decal—from the depot and turned it over to Neil with a cheerful nod. Jane would be disappointed, especially if the girl’s other clothes were as plain as what she wore, a simple dark dress with long sleeves and an unfashionable, below-the-knees hemline. “Would you take my arm?” he asked, positioning himself so she could place her hand in the crook of his elbow, which she did with easy confidence.
“Do you have a Christian name?” she asked.
“Yes, miss. It’s Neil.”
“That’s a good name,” she said. “Mine is Mary Claire. How is my grandfather, do you know?”
Neil, who hadn’t known the old man had any grandchildren, said, “Hanging on, miss.”
He opened the car door and helped her into the back seat.
“You don’t have to call me ‘miss’ all the time,” she said. “Please call me Mary Claire. Or my friends at school call me Sunny.”

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What happened to the funeral? Book Blitz

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USA Today bestselling author @michellemcleanbooks turns the Duke trope on its head with a witty, laugh-out-loud Regency perfect for fans of Eloisa James and Sarah MacLean.⁣

⁣⁣ Four Weddings and a Duke is coming on October 25th from @entangled_publishing: Amara

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AUTHOR BIO:

Michelle McLean is a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl who is addicted to chocolate and Goldfish crackers and spent most of her formative years with her nose in a book. She has degrees in history and English and is thrilled that she sort of gets to use them. Her novel Truly, Madly, Sweetly, written as Kira Archer, was adapted as a Hallmark Original movie in 2018.

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When Michelle’s not working, reading, or chasing her kids around, she can usually be found baking, diamond painting, or trying to find free wall space upon which to hang her diamond paintings. She resides in PA with her husband and two teens, the world’s most spoiled dog, and a cat who absolutely rules the house. She also writes contemporary romance as USA Today bestselling author Kira Archer.

For more info on Michelle and her work, please visit her website at michellemcleanbooks.com.

Author links:

https://michellemcleanbooks.com/

https://www.facebook.com/authormichellemclean

https://www.instagram.com/michellemcleanbooks/

https://www.pinterest.ca/michellemcleanbooks/_saved/

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/michelle-mcleanhttps://twitter.com/michellemclean

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4253087.Michelle_McLean

To Purchase Book

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/br/book/four-weddings-and-a-duke/id1608916869Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/four-weddings-and-a-duke

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Wicked is what Wicked does: book review

Leagues and lives apart, Delaney and Sebastian navigate a world they’re not destined for together. Can Delaney let down her guard and learn to trust a WICKED Duke?

THE NEVERS + BRIDGERTON mashup! Historical romance with a sexy splash of the supernatural.

Tracy writes an excellent historical romance, with enough passion and joy in her stories and in these characters to make the reading easy and fun.
remembering of course, that this particular League has a paranormal 'bent' we get some interesting occasions and happenings when a rather nosy American comes visiting - after a husband of course, but not with the English Ton's mannerisms, language or behaviours - rather refreshing in fact and outgoing and exuberant in her behaviour. And then she meets a rather buttoned-up Lord...

Great series as it goes through the romances of the main characters and their strange ‘powers’ or magic. Each needing to learn how to control their power with the help of the others. So forming a tightknit group that live and learn together but also help each other ‘fight’ those who are frightened by these powers or who want to use them for nefarious means.

Nicely written and fun to read if not ‘high’ literature.

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