Sunday, March 30, 2014

MAe Book Tours ~ Spotlight on the Allure Series by N. Isabelle Blanco

Title: Destructively Alluring (Allure #1)
Author: N. Isabelle Blanco
Genre: Erotica/ Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 29th 2012


Dorian Sorenson agreed to take on his longtime family friend’s daughter, Demitra, as an intern. Hell, Stephen Davis had been his father’s friend for years up to his father’s death and he had continued to be close to Dorian. Why not do him the favor? Except, from the moment he sees the girl, now nineteen and definitely ‘growing up’ he’s faced with a huge problem. Huge. The girl might be eleven years his junior but just looking at her shy sexiness has him trapped in an agonizing need that won’t even let him seek relief elsewhere. His body wants her and no one else. And it’s going to have her, whether Dorian likes it or not.

After a torrid but brief kiss in his office, three months into Demitra’s internship, Dorian is left fighting feelings of extreme guilt. It’s very clear that they’re attracted to each other and that Demitra needs him as badly as he needs her but she’s still a young girl working for him. A young girl who happens to be his friend’s daughter. Dorian is determined to fight this need for her, whatever the cost. What he doesn’t count on is one night, one benefit, and Demitra looking unbelievably tempting on the arm of another man. The bets are off when possessiveness strikes hard within Dorian and only a higher power can help them both because now he plans to claim her. Thoroughly. 


“Dorian, I swear to fucking God, what is wrong with you?” Demi demanded.
In all the time she’d been working for me, I’d never heard her curse.  Her doing so now made everything that much worse. My dick popped to its full length so hard the fucker almost knocked me off my feet and brought me to my knees.
He nearly ripped through my pants, too.
Motherfucking shit.
 “Demi, unless you want to cause a scene, I suggest you not fight and follow me.”
Not that I had any real idea where I was taking her, only that it had to be anywhere away from Keith.
Demi hissed quietly as we passed a group of people on the large patio outside. “You’re already causing a scene, you idiot! You don’t think everyone is seeing my boss dragging me away from the party right now?”
She continued to grumble under her breath as we went down the stairs. My eyes locked on the entrance to the massive labyrinth that was before us.
Needing to get us somewhere private, I kept on going, her arm in my grasp the whole way. Demi let me lead her. That is, until we were inside the entrance of the labyrinth, the tall green “walls” on either side of us.
“Let go.” She pulled her arm roughly out of my grip now that we were away from prying eyes.
I let her, but as out of my senses as I was, I made damned sure that I was standing between her and the way out.
She huffed, looking lickable in her fury. “This is the last time I’m going to ask: what is your problem?”
That slit baring her thigh made me want to grab, bite, lick and suck every inch of her skin.
And the heels. The fucking heels.
“Are those red heels?” I asked, hearing how out of breath I was.
Demi looked at her feet, an adorably confused expression crossing her face. “Uh...yeah.”
We were both panting harshly as we stared at each other.
“You look beautiful,” I blurted out, my voice low and raspy.
Demi stuttered, looking completely confused and out of it. “I...I...thank you?”
It made no sense to me how this girl could have me so out of control. Two steps, I was in front of her. No thoughts, no premeditation, just uncontrolled movement. Four words out of my mouth followed after and the next thing I knew, I was cupping her face. “Demi, you’re so beautiful.”
One gasp from her. Seven million warnings were going through my head. One undeniable truth above it all–the fact that I needed her–and I lost it again, pressing her back into the maze wall behind her.
Demi’s hands shot up, wrapping around my wrists. I told myself it was wrong, that my behavior was straight-up sexual assault, and that this girl could very well have me arrested for what I was doing.
Yeah. My body didn’t listen to any of that.
Her lips were soft against mine, her breath wet and tantalizing. So much more delicious than I remembered. I groaned deep in my chest, lust pounding through me painfully. Self-preservation didn’t matter anymore.
Nothing outside of her skin against mine did.
I felt how she tensed, the momentary urge she had to fight me. I didn’t let her. Flicking her bottom lip with my tongue had become my new addiction.
A flash went through my head, an image of her lip being replaced by her nipple. I started tonguing, sucking, and brought her closer. I was so hard there was no fucking way I could think past it.
Demi let out a sound that made my skin burn hotter. I purposely kept my eyes slightly open, watching her eyelids fluttering as I tilted my head. In one move, I thrust my tongue in between her lips, moaning while my brain imagined that it was my cock.
Said cock throbbed dangerously. I could hear its warnings. I was too damn close. Too much on edge.
Demi let go of my wrists, her hands latching onto my tuxedo jacket’s lapels. Our tongues connected and slid. The pleasure had my eyes rolling back, lids drifting closed.
I let go of her face. My hands slid around her waist and brought her closer still.
She pulled on me, closing whatever miniscule distance had been left between us. My mind took off, fighting past the pleasure enough to rush through ideas, possibilities of where I could take her and how fast we could get there.
I needed her wet little mouth and willing body all to myself.
Demi gasped, pulling her lips away from mine. “Dorian.”
I almost fucking whimpered, my mouth too addicted and needing more of her skin in it. I latched onto her jaw, sucking lightly and nearly dying from how she mewled into my ear.
“Dorian...wha...oh...oh, God. What are you...”
I raised my head just enough to press my mouth against hers again. Small moans leaked out of her, mixing with my own.
Her tongue was nothing short of sensual as it slid against mine, reconnecting. Shackling me. Her breath escaped her in tiny gasps and slid into me, adding to the erotic haze that had me prisoner.
I tightened my hold on her waist, needing to feel her against every inch of me and damning the fact that there was fabric in the way.
Demi whimpered my name again as I pulled lightly on her bottom lip. “Ungh.” She groaned, letting me tilt her head back so I could suck lightly on the tip of her tongue.
“Fuck, Demi. You taste unbelievable.” I panted against her lips, hands tightening and threatening the material of her dress.
Demi’s voice was all breathless and just downright sexy.  “Dorian, wait.”
I actually had to fight back the urge to pout as she pushed lightly on my chest. Two things that pissed me off and made me scowl as I took in my own behavior.
I forced myself to take at least one step away from her, gritting my teeth and somehow finding the will to let her go. Then, I yelled at myself as I watched her pant while adjusting her dress.

Title: Allure Magnified (Allure #2)
Release Date: December 27th 2012

It’s been four months since Demitra Davis ended up entangled in the most complicated –albeit gratifying- situation she’d ever thought to find herself in. A situation she isn’t keen to get herself out of. Her now ex-boss, Dorian Sorrenson, is too delicious for her to want to pull herself away from. Yes, he’s the son of her father’s dead best friend. Yes, he was her boss for a few months of her life. Yes, he’s also almost eleven years older, but there was no way Demitra could stop herself from being attracted to him. And that was all before that one night in which Dorian carried her away from the arms of another man and branded her as his.

Dorian has just returned from a month long business trip, and thoughts of telling her father are the farthest from Demitra’s mind. No, she’s missed her man and has to get her hands on him. Their passion continues to escalate as well as the feelings they both have for each other. What neither of them planned on was the spite of Dorian’s ex-lover and how far she’d be willing to go to stir up problems for the two of them. Demitra is worried that their burgeoning relationship won’t be able to hold up under the stress. What she doesn’t count on is Dorian’s feelings for her and how far he is willing to go in order to keep her as his.


The water bottle slipped out of my hand for a nanosecond. I managed to catch it, drops shooting out of it and smacking my chin. Close to hyperventilating, I wiped it with the back of my hand.
“I asked you a question, Demitra. Answer me.”       
I heard him walking closer. Heart still racing, I turned around and focused on him long enough to take in his expression. His face was hard, the look pissed and stoic all in one.
Alrighty. See, Dorian had a problem on his hands and he wasn’t even aware of it, yet. I was drunk enough to be just past the point of rational. And I was definitely more pissed than he was.
Dear lord was I pissed off. He was still advancing on me with that look that demanded answers. I’d just spent the night getting drunk over him to try to ignore how shitty I felt because of him.
I turned to stare at the fridge with a bored expression. He stopped right next to me. I could feel him along every inch of my body. His form dominated my peripheral vision.
I didn’t even blink.
Slowly, purposely, I lifted the water bottle back to my lips and took another sip. He didn’t move, I didn’t respond, but I heard his breathing getting rougher. His eyes traveled the length of my body so intently that I felt it like a tickle. I kept drinking my water, each sip slower than the last. Eventually, I was going to have to blink, but annoying him had become my main priority.
“You’re angry.”
This time, I didn’t even try and deny it. Nor did I bother replying to him. His arm came into my line of vision, pressed against the fridge as he leaned down toward me. His nose brushed my cheek softly, setting off a round of shivers I barely held back.
“You look so sexy in that dress.”
Oh, fuck. I was too drunk to handle his husky voice saying things like that to me. Self-control was diminishing quite rapidly. I needed to stay freaking strong, damn it!
“Tell me where you went, baby.”
“Out with my friend.” Fucking shit, I wasn’t supposed to respond to him.
Dorian hummed and ran his lips across my skin. My knees nearly liquefied and took my legs with them. “I can smell the alcohol on you.”
Shit. He could?
“How much did you have to drink?”
Don’t remember. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here. I’m fine. I had tons of fun.”
“Did you now?” The ass was still leaning against my fridge, all insolence and expectation.
“Yup.” I screwed the cap back on my bottle and nudged him out of the way so I could open the fridge. I bent down, placing the bottle inside. Dorian stepped behind me. The feel of his hands circling my hips made me gasp. When he pulled my ass into his crotch, arched his back, and fucking groaned…well, I bit my lip, grabbed onto the side of the fridge, and moaned like a harlot.
One hand slid around to my lower abs. His fingers slowly curled inward, anchoring me further to him. He urged my upper body up and pressed my back to his front. He was trembling, barely holding himself back from doing God’s knew what. He nuzzled the side of my face. I inhaled, smelling the alcohol on him for the first time.
“You’ve been drinking, too.”
He scoffed. “I was waiting for you for nearly two hours. You wouldn’t answer your fucking phone, and I was this close to sending a security team out to scour the city for you. Damn right I drank that bottle of Grey Goose you had hidden in your wall unit.”
He’d begun subtly rocking his hips into me, the movements barely discernible. I still felt them all over me. Without even realizing it, I was starting to melt into him, the heat in my veins rising. “Dorian,” I whined, my head resting against his shoulder. “That was the Magnum Grey Goose that—”
Dorian exhaled against my ear. On purpose, too, I could tell. Fucker.
“I know. I saw the cage. Real silver right?”
“Yes. And that almost cost a thousand dollars. It was meant to be Ang’s twenty-first birthday gift.”
“You still have the cage. I’ll have another one shipped in first thing tomorrow.” And with that, he set in, his lips opening and grazing my neck.
Oh, God. We were both drunk.  It was official. Drunk, horny…
“Where’d you go looking so fuckable, baby?”
…and obviously out of our minds.
His voice was rough against my ear. The tips of his fingers ghosted down to my thighs, trailing beneath the edge of my skirt. “Just looking at you in this dress is making me feel like an animal. Do you have any idea how angry it makes me to imagine you out there, dressed like this, flirting with some other man?”
I’d been damn near Jell-O-status, liquefying all over him and his clothes. Until he opened his fucking mouth and had the nerve to say what I think he said. “Excuse me?”  It didn’t matter that the fridge was in my way; I went rigid and pushed away from him as much as I could. “Is that what you think I was up to? Flirting with other men?”
Dorian caged me in, hands on either side of the fridge. His face was harsh as he answered me. “You’re young, you’re gorgeous, and I’ve been disappointing you since I got back from my trip. Why wouldn’t you go out there and find someone else, Dem?”
I almost slapped him, pulled his hair, and gouged his eyes out. Growling, I pushed at his chest. “Fuck you! Just fuck you. I—fuck this shit. I’m too drunk to deal with you right now.” For his own sake, I attempted to push and get away from him. I managed to get around him and began heading for the living room.


N. Isabelle Blanco was born in Queens, NY (USA). At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother's handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she'd reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.                                                                                                  
An avid reader in her teens, her fascination with Japanese anime eventually led her to the universe of fan fiction, which became her on-again, off-again hobby for the next ten years. During that time she amassed a following of fans that, by her own admission, she would never be able to live without. It was those fans who encouraged her to step beyond the fan fiction realm and try her talent in the publishing world.

N. Isabelle Blanco now has three novellas and two full-length novels under her belt, and spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. That is when she isn't handling her "spawn", as she calls her son, and brainstorming with him about his future career as a comic book illustrator.
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Friday, March 28, 2014

Tasty Book Tours ~ Spotlight on Three Weeks with Lady X by Eloisa James

The next fabulous romance by New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James. Having made a fortune, Thorn Dautry, the powerful bastard son of a duke, decides that he needs a wife. But to marry a lady, Thorn must acquire a gleaming, civilized fa├žade, the specialty of Lady Xenobia India. Exquisite, headstrong, and independent, India vows to make Thorn marriageable in just three weeks. But neither Thorn nor India anticipate the forbidden passion that explodes between them. Thorn will stop at nothing to make India his. Failure is not an option. But there is only one thing that will make India his . . . the one thing Thorn can't afford to lose . . . his fierce and lawless heart.
Link to Desperate Duchesses Series at Goodreads,

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Teaser :       
When she woke, she still lying down, but no longer in the carriage, but in a room with windows open to an evening breeze. The far-off rhythm of Dautry’s heartbeat was still there, under her ear. And there was a light pressure on her back, his warm hand simply resting there.
Her heart pulsed momentarily with loneliness, because she couldn’t remember anyone’s ever before putting a hand on her while she slept.
She sat up, peered at him, and said, “Hello.” They seemed to be in a room at the Horn & Stag, and something had happened to her hair; it was tumbling past her shoulders.
“I like your hair,” he said.
“It’s my mother’s,” India said, in a voice husky with sleep. “There’s too much of it.”
“You could stuff a pillow with it someday.”

She chose not to respond to that absurdity.

Meet the Author
New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James writes historical romances for HarperCollins Publishers. Her novels have been published to great acclaim. A reviewer from USA Today wrote of Eloisa's very first book that she "found herself devouring the book like a dieter with a Hershey bar;" later People Magazine raved that "romance writing does not get much better than this." Her novels have repeatedly received starred reviews from Publishers' Weekly and Library Journal and regularly appear on the best-seller lists.
After graduating from Harvard University, Eloisa got an M.Phil. from Oxford University, a Ph.D. from Yale and eventually became a Shakespeare professor, publishing an academic book with Oxford University Press. Currently she is a distinguished professor and head of the Creative Writing program at Fordham University in New York City. Her "double life" is a source of fascination to the media and her readers. In her professorial guise, she's written a New York Times op-ed defending romance, as well as articles published everywhere from women's magazines such as Good Housekeeping and More to writers' journals such as the Romance Writers' Report.

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Thursday, March 27, 2014

Bewitching Book Tours ~ Release Blitz for Uncovering You by Scarlett Edwards

Uncovering You
Scarlett Edwards

Genre - Dark Romance

Release Date - March 27th, 2014

Book Description:

When I wake up in a dark, unfamiliar room, I have no idea what's waiting for me in the shadows. My imagination conjures up demons of the worst kind.

Reality is much worse:

A collar with no leash. A prison with no walls. And a life stripped of meaning.

I am presented with a vile contract and asked to sign. It outlines the terms of my servitude. The only information I have about my captor are the two small letters inked at the bottom:


Armed with only my memories, I must do everything I can to avoid becoming ensnared in his twisted mind games. But in the end, it all comes down to one choice:

Resist and die.

Or submit, and sign my life away

Oh God. It’s him. There’s no mistaking that rich, masculine treble.
What’s he doing down here?
“M-Mr. Stonehart,” I stutter, turning. I curse my inability to hide my surprise. He totally caught me off-guard. I have to look up to meet his eyes. Then up some more.
The face that I find is so striking it should belong to a Greek god.
He’s younger than I expected. Late thirties, maybe early forties.
That means he started his company when he was younger than me!
Dark scruff lines his angular cheeks. His jet-black hair is styled in long, natural waves. My fingers itch to run through it.
Totally inappropriate.
He has a prominent nose that might be too big on a less imposing man, but on him, it’s perfect.
In short, he’s a package of the purest masculinity I’ve ever seen.
And then there are his eyes. Oh my God. His eyes. They pierce into me like honing missiles. They are the deepest black I have ever seen. They would be frightening if they weren’t so beautiful. When the light reflects a certain way, you catch a glimpse of the purple underneath.
They are like midnight sapphires. His eyes reveal a cunning intellect. Those eyes do not miss a thing.
Add all that to his towering height, his wide shoulders, his confident-yet-at-ease posture… and Stonehart cuts an intimidating figure.
My gaze darts to his left hand before I can stop it. No ring. He’s unmarried.
He looks down at me, expectantly. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, and I feel like I’m being dissected, measured up, and tucked away in some small corner of his brain. I imagine this is what a gemstone feels like under the magnifying class of the most critical appraiser.
Stonehart clears his throat. I come to with a start, realizing I haven’t said anything in ages. I open my mouth, but the capacity for speech seems like a foreign concept to my brain. “I—”
Somebody bumps into me from behind. I stagger forward. I’m not used to these shoes, so my heel steps the wrong way. My ankle twists under me, and I start to fall.
I don’t fall far. The hand still on my elbow tightens, and Stonehart pulls me into him. 
I plaster myself onto the solid steel wall the man has for a body. I catch a scent of his cologne. It’s a deep, musky smell with a hint of charred spruce that is all male. It scrambles my thoughts even more.
“Sorry!” a rushed voice calls out. From the corner of my eye, I see the postman giving a hurried, apologetic wave.
Although the sequence lasts less than a second, it feels like an eternity. Pressed up against him like that, I don’t want to move. I know that I couldn’t have made a worse first impression.
Stonehart eases me off him with a firm yet gentle grip. Our eyes meet. I flush the most vibrant red. His fingers graze my forehead as he brushes a lock of hair out of my face.
Any tenderness I may have imagined vanishes when Stonehart takes out his cell. He long dials a key and growls an order. “Steven. See the delivery boy leaving right now? Have his building pass revoked.”
I gape. Stonehart keeps speaking. “Wait. I thought of one better. Bar his company from accessing the building.” There’s a pause. “For how long? Indefinitely. FedEx can talk to me when they have an improved employee selection program in place.”
The phone call gives me just enough time to compose myself. My heart’s still beating out of my chest. But nobody has to know that.
I speak without thinking. “You’re going to restrict the entire company from serving this building because of that?”
Stonehart humors me with an answer. “A company’s employees are its most important asset. Their behavior reflects the organization as a whole. If FedEx decided that clown is good enough for them, it tells me they’re sloppy. I do not do business with sloppy organizations.”
“What about the other tenants in the building?” I ask. “Won’t that piss them off?”
When I hear myself and realize how improper my question is, my cheeks flame red again.
Stonehart’s eyes darken, as if he cannot believe I asked that question. I open my mouth to apologize for my imprudence, hating the way my professional skills have evaporated into thin air. I’m cut off by a short, barked laugh.
“Miss Ryder.” He sounds amused. “I believe that is the most direct and honest question anybody has dared ask me in weeks.” He takes my elbow again and leads me to the elevators. I have to take two quick steps to match one of his long strides.
“Yes,” he continues. “They will be ‘pissed off.’ But the perk of owning a building—” he hits the elevator call button, “—is that you get to make executive decisions.” He gives me an unreadable glance as the doors open. “That is, at the risk of being questioned by inexperienced interns.”
If that isn’t a loaded remark, I don’t know what is. I flush scarlet red for the third time since I’ve met him. I’ve never had a man throw me so off balance. 
The elevator is packed, for which I’m infinitely thankful. The trip up will give me some time to properlycompose myself.
Gratitude turns to panic when the crowd files out, meek as mice, when Stonehart steps in. None of the people waiting in the lobby follow us.
The doors close. I’m alone in here with him. My heart’s beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
He catches me staring. “Impressed?” he asks.
“They know you,” I manage.
His dark eyes flash with amusement. “Astute.”

Meet Scarlett:

I live near beautiful Seattle, Washington.  I grew up reading all types of fantasy books before discovering the wonderful world of romances in high school.  Now, I spend most of my time writing about sexy men and the women who love them.

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