Monday, October 29, 2018

Book Spotlight & #Review ~ Crushing on the Cop (Blue Collar Brothers, Book 2) by Piper Rayne ~ #Romance @InkSlingerPR @PiperRayneRocks

   

Crushing on the Cop
Blue Collar Brothers, Book 2
Piper Rayne

Print Length: 267 pages
Publication Date: October 25, 2018
ASIN: B07GWPG1B2


About the Book:

Cristian Bianco has two things against him—he’s a police officer and he’s a police officer in the 18th District…meaning my dad is his boss. Growing up as the Commander’s daughter and having his magnifying glass focused on everything I did was more than I could handle. Now, I’m out on my own, living by my own rules. Well, mostly. The ‘job’ I created for myself has me in some hot water and my exit strategy isn’t exactly working out how I’d hoped. Which is why when my best friend bids on Cristian for me at a charity bachelor auction, I’m not having it. A man in blue is only going to be one thing for me—a problem. Except after his brother starts dating my best friend he becomes harder to ignore. The eight-pack abs. The sense of style only a girl like me can appreciate. The way he puts his family first. It all adds up to make him one irresistible prospect and has me wondering if he knows how to use those handcuffs the right way—by locking my wrists to his headboard. 


Purchase Your Copy:

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Read an Excerpt:

“Not on duty tonight, officer?” I insert sarcasm into my tone because being a bitch will make it easier for him to keep his distance. 

“Well, Miss Flanagan, I’m off for two days if you’re wondering.” 

I step away from the keg allowing the lingering guys who are talking about hockey a chance to fill their cups. 

“That leaves me open for that date.” He cocks an eyebrow. 

My head falls back in defeat. “There is no date. You have a pass. Most guys would love the chance to get out of a date with the person who wins them at an auction.” 

He sips his beer. “I’m not most guys.” 

I sip my beer and don’t respond. He’s right. He’s not most guys. Most guys don’t look like he does. That or I’ve been hanging around the wrong places. 

“Some might say that most women would love to go on a date with a police officer.” 

“I’m not most women.” 

He laughs. One that heats my insides and makes him even more attractive. I know I’m going to be visualizing him the next time I pull out my Unicorn Cock vibrator, but I’ll deal like I always do. 

“I agree,” he says when he finishes laughing. 

“Perfect. Then it’s a deal. No date.” I smile and turn on my heel heading toward the bonfire. 

“Whoa.” His hand gently grabs my arm. 

I spin back around. 

“You know that’s not what I was saying. Come on, Vanessa. I need your dad off my back. One date. It’s not going to kill anyone.” 

I purse my lips, trying to figure out how I’m going to get him to let this topic go. I’ve had one police officer dictating my entire life already, I don’t need another. 

“Just lie,” I say with a shrug. 

His strong shoulders sag a bit and he shoots me a look like ‘give me a break.’ His eyes are those of an innocent man who probably always does the right thing. I’m doing him a favor keeping him at arm’s length. 

“Fine,” I say when the silence stretches out. 

He smiles. I hold a finger up into the air. “You do one thing tonight that you’d never normally do and I’ll go out with you.” I smirk. Let’s see Mr. Squeaky Clean take me up on that offer. I’m picturing my victory already. 

“What?” He screws his face up then sips his beer. 

I cross my arms around my middle, waiting for him to say no way so that I can move on. “You heard me. One spontaneous thing. Here. Tonight.” 

“Like what?” he asks, his eyes scanning the area around us that I now realize is quickly emptying out. Half these people probably have babysitters to get home to. 

I shrug. “That’s for you to decide.” 

His forehead bunches. “What do you want me to do? Jump over the fire or some shit like that?” 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t end up in the emergency room, so no, I don’t expect you to jump over a roaring fire. That would ruin Maddie and Mauro’s night.” 

A pissed off look crosses his face and he downs most of his beer. 

“That’s it, let’s go, Cris. It’s two against two and I need a guy.” Luca, Cristian’s little brother, twirls a soccer ball on his finger as he steps up to us. Lauren follows behind with a girl I don’t recognize.

“What?” Cristian glares over at his brother. “I’m not playing soccer tonight in the pitch dark.” 

He has a point. 

“Come on Cris. Lauren says she can score five goals on me.” Luca glances over to Lauren who has a shit-eating grin on her face, and he rolls his eyes. 

Cristian blows out a breath. Lauren saddles up to my side, kicking the soccer ball from Luca’s hands. She does some fancy footwork then kicks the ball in the air before catching it. That girl has coordination I do not. 

“The answer is no. Find Bentley, he’s over there.” He points toward the bonfire. 

Luca must know his brother never does something he doesn’t want to do because he barrels away from us without a word. 

“What’s going on over here?” Lauren asks, walking backward, twirling the soccer ball on one finger like Luca was moments ago. 

“Nothing,” I say. 

“Lauren, what’s the craziest thing I can do tonight?” Cristian hollers out and Lauren’s feet stop, staring at me over his shoulder. 

She knows this game. We play it often. Well, not since college when guys tend to think they can say hello and you’ll be falling all over them. There’s nothing wrong with making them work to impress you a little. It builds character. LOL. 

Lauren being Lauren pretends to think about it. In the past, we’ve had guys shave their heads or their eyebrows, dress in girl’s clothing, striptease with a pair of girl’s panties on. God knows what Lauren’s going to recommend. 

“You’re a smart boy, Bianco. Turn the tables,” she says. “What’s the worst thing you could do to Vanessa tonight?” 

I flip her off. Nice friend I got there. Who wants her? 

A devilish smile creeps onto Cristian’s lips. “Anyone tell you, you’re a fucking genius, Lauren?” 

She laughs. “All the time. Tell your brother for me though.” 

Luca comes over, stealing the soccer ball from her hands, while a guy tripping over his own feet follows behind. The girl and guy standing on the sidelines watching Lauren and Luca argue about who goes first. 

“So, Officer Bianco, what will it be?” I cock a hip and a brow. “Maybe a date with you isn’t worth the embarrassment?” 

He steps closer and I back up an inch, unease setting in as his demeanor grows more confident and sure. 

I shrug. “That’s fine. I’m happy to split ways now.” 

He takes another giant step forward and sips the remaining beer from his cup, tossing it down to the grass, his gaze intense and set on whatever he’s about to do. 

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice weaker than I’d prefer. 

We’re chest to chest now because he’s taken me by surprise and I forgot to flee with his approach. Okay and maybe his eyes mesmerized me. A little. Not much. 

“I’m going to do the one thing I didn’t think I’d do tonight.” His voice has dropped an octave and we’re alone in the darkness of the forest now where the warmth of the bonfire has disappeared. A cold chill runs across my cheeks until Cristian’s hands land on either side of my face. “I’m going to kiss you.” 

His lips fall to mine. Did I say it was cold? It’s not. It’s warm. Cristian’s mouth on mine steals the chill from my body. I should knee him in the balls or at least push him away, but I don’t. Instead, my lips betray me and move in time with his. I wrap my arms around his neck and I rise to my tiptoes, kissing him back. 

His arms cradle me flush against his body, his tongue exploring mine and under the canopy of the forest, away from any prying eyes, Cristian Bianco sets my body on fire. 

I love breaking other people’s rules, but I’m not sure about breaking my own.
    

     

Meet Piper Rayne:

  

Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one. Our goal is to bring you romance stories that have "Heartwarming Humor With a Side of Sizzle" (okay...you caught us, that's our tagline). A little about us... We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too. 

Book #Review ~ Crushing on the Cop (Blue Collar Brothers, Book 2) by Piper Rayne ~ #Romance @InkSlingerPR @PiperRayneRocks

    Crushing on the Cop
Blue Collar Brothers, Book 2
Piper Rayne

Print Length: 267 pages
Publication Date: October 25, 2018
ASIN: B07GWPG1B2


About the Book:

Cristian Bianco has two things against him—he’s a police officer and he’s a police officer in the 18th District…meaning my dad is his boss. Growing up as the Commander’s daughter and having his magnifying glass focused on everything I did was more than I could handle. Now, I’m out on my own, living by my own rules. Well, mostly. The ‘job’ I created for myself has me in some hot water and my exit strategy isn’t exactly working out how I’d hoped. Which is why when my best friend bids on Cristian for me at a charity bachelor auction, I’m not having it. A man in blue is only going to be one thing for me—a problem. Except after his brother starts dating my best friend he becomes harder to ignore. The eight-pack abs. The sense of style only a girl like me can appreciate. The way he puts his family first. It all adds up to make him one irresistible prospect and has me wondering if he knows how to use those handcuffs the right way—by locking my wrists to his headboard. 

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My Review:

Crushing on the Cop by Piper Rayne
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Cristian Bianco is one of Chicago’s finest; police officer and male specimen. Not only does he have a steady job, he comes from a warm Italian family, and he, himself, has a heart of gold. He is kind, considerate, thoughtful, and not the one-night-stand type. He’s in it for the long haul and he wants Vanessa Flannigan. Vanessa, however, has other ideas.

Vanessa Flannigan won Cristian in a charity bachelor auction courtesy of her best friends. She’s not the relationship type, though, especially with a police officer, since she grew up with a police officer father, one who is Cristian’s boss. Oh, she’s attracted to Cristian, but she refuses to allow herself the chance to really get to know, consistently pushing him away. Her character is very independent and has a hard time accepting help. Her past, however, is catching up to her and help is exactly what she needs. Will she accept the help from a hot cop who wants nothing more than to protect and love her?

I knew I had to read Crushing on the Cop just as soon as I read the synopsis. A hot police officer from an upstanding Italian family and his boss’s daughter with a dark secret had me intrigued. I was not at all disappointed. Crushing on the Cop is the first book I’ve read by Piper Rayne, and let me tell you, it will not be the last. The characters are three dimensional and expressive. The world building is crafted so well that not only could I visualize everything, I felt like I was there.

The chemistry between Cristian and Vanessa is amazing, palpable, and realistic. Cristian is persistent in his pursuit and Vanessa is just as determined to keep the wall up around her heart. I love the way Cristian is able to chip away at that wall and show Vanessa that she doesn’t have to life her life alone, always pushing people away. Their interactions are cute, and I loved the witty banter. I truly enjoyed Crushing on the Cop.

I was provided a copy of this book to read.

View all my reviews

Friday, October 26, 2018

Book Excerpt & #Giveaway ~ Go To My Grave by Catriona McPherson ~ #Mystery @CatrionaMcP


LOCK IT IN A BOX. STITCH MY LIPS. AND GO TO MY GRAVE.

About the Book:

Donna Weaver has put everything she has into restoring The Breakers, an old bed and breakfast on a remote stretch of beach in Galloway. Now it sits waiting—freshly painted, richly furnished, filled with flowers—for the first guests to arrive.

But Donna's guests, a contentious group of estranged cousins, soon realize that they’ve been here before, years ago. Decades have passed, but that night still haunts them: a sixteenth birthday party that started with peach schnapps and ended with a girl walking into the sea.

Each of them had made a vow of silence: “lock it in a box, stitch my lips, and go to my grave.”

But now someone has broken the pact. Amid the home-baked scones and lavish rooms, someone is playing games, locking boxes, stitching lips. And before the weekend is over, at least one of them will go to their grave. 

Book Information:

Print Length: 304 pages
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Publication Date: October 23, 2018
Sold by: Macmillan
ASIN: B079DWLWXX

Purchase from Amazon

Read an Excerpt:

Prologue 

This is the story of three days last September when eight old friends gathered in a beautiful house by the sea. There was food, wine and laughter, and then the friends went their separate ways. That’s the truth and nothing but the truth. The story is over. We have locked the box, swallowed the key and stitched our lips shut. Will that be enough? I don’t know. It took twenty-five years, after last time, for the stitches to unravel, the key to burn through our guts, the box to rust and weaken. But this time’s different. There’s so much more to lose. I can’t speak for the others but I’ll keep this secret and go to my grave.

Chapter One

The house was a held breath. Its ten empty rooms waited, polished like a bowl of apples. There were flowers in the hall and in the big bay windows of the drawing room and dining room. There were logs in the baskets and candles in the holders. The snooker balls were framed and the magazines were fanned and every window was open an inch at the top, not enough to make the curtains tremble but enough to let in the sound of the sea.

The sea. You couldn’t get away from it even if you wanted to. From every room you could hear it, thrashing up on the beach and rattling the pebbles as it drew back again. You could smell it under the lemon cleaner and beeswax polish, under the lilies and freesias and the eucalyptus. You could see it in a film on the west-facing windows, little dots of wet salt back again hours after washing them. And in the shiver of damp when the sun sank and the squabble of gulls when it rose again, there was the sea.

Of course I’d grown up on an island so I was used to it.

Although we’d never lived right on the seafront on Skye, because those houses are worth more rented to tourists than sold to locals. Which was exactly the point: the hard cash value of the sound of the sea.

I walked up the stairs one last time, in and out of the five bedrooms. Pillows plumped, blankets smooth, tissues folded into fans. More flowers. In and out of the five bathrooms. Thick towels laid over warmed rails. Big bars of good soap unwrapped in every glittering dish. Not a drop of water or a speck of dust in the baths.

The house had seventeen rooms really, but the kitchen didn’t count and the breakfast room attached to it was the ‘staff lounge’. In other words, the dumping ground for sup- plies. The two smallest bedrooms didn’t count either, because the nearest bathroom was down the back stairs, past the laundry facilities. We couldn’t rent beds without en suites. Not at the prices we were charging. So they were ‘staff accom- modation’ too.

And that was why the little room at the top of the stairs was called a snug in the brochure, even though it had a sofa- bed for overflow. Or – as my mum said – for flouncing off to after arguments.

I spent two late nights on Amazon choosing jigsaws and board games. My mum raised her eyebrows at the bill but she didn’t argue. Hospitality was my end of this little venture, along with catering. I know my stuff and she trusts me.

I had to blink at the cost of the high-speed Wi-Fi, not to mention the fax and scanner and the extra-fast colour-printer down in the study, but I trusted her too. Holidays would be our bread and butter, she told me, but corporate retreats were the geese that shat the golden shit, second only to weddings.

And Galloway’s cheap property and dark night skies with the excellent star-gazing – we had provided binoculars and a telescope – went hand-in-hand with pitiful connectivity. ‘But I can outwit all that,’ she said. ‘By the time I’m finished we’ll have download speeds like a bank in Manhattan.’

She spent a lot longer than two late nights setting the search terms so that corporations, brides and holiday-makers would all find us, no matter what they thought they were looking for. She knows her stuff too. The website had been live less than a day when we got the first booking.

It was a tenth wedding anniversary. Eight old friends coming down from Glasgow, over from Edinburgh, up from England for a reunion. They bought the full-catered package: Friday tea till Monday breakfast, with a big dinner on the Saturday night. Which was why I was wearing black trousers and a starched white shirt with an apron on top as I padded round the rooms.

If only my mum had been there too I’d have been padding round without my knees knocking. As it was, I was doing this whole weekend – eight people, four meals a day, five counting drinks and nibbles – on my lonesome.

‘It sucks hard and blows back out again,’ my mum agreed, when the news broke, ‘and if you say no, it’s no. So . . . what do you say?’

Because the thing is we had entered every competition going – as you would, starting up on a shoestring – and we had won one. The prize was free registration and a corner stand on the central aisle at Scotland’s biggest wedding fair, at the SECC in Glasgow. We were still pinching ourselves.

‘I’m more the business end anyway,’ she’d said. True, but she can wash dishes and scrub toilets and she’s great with names. It’s always been my worst weakness, despite all the tricks and hacks in the book. It’s the reason I prefer high-end, where you can ‘sir’ and ‘madam’ your way through everything. ‘I promise I’ll keep up with the bookings online in the quiet minutes,’ she’d told me. ‘But it’s your call, Donna. Coal face and all that.’

‘I can do it,’ I announced. ‘If we ditch the pan-seared scallops and soufflés, I can do it. But are you sure you can do the expo? You’ll be more knackered than me.’

‘We can both do it,’ she said. ‘We’re unstoppable.’

A car door slammed, out on the gravel. I nipped to the side of the window and looked down. A navy-blue Range Rover had pulled up, slantwise, right across the front door, and a man was standing there with his head thrown back, staring so the house was reflected in his sunglasses.

He had to be one of the guests. He was dressed exactly like a townie dresses for a country weekend: brand-new cords, brand-new waxed jacket the same colour as his car, an inch of a checked collar showing above the neck of his cashmere. I edged in closer to the glass for a better look and, as I did, the passenger door opened and a girl stepped out. A woman. She matched him like the other side of the cuckoo clock: long legs in dark red jeans, tall boots, a sheepskin gilet over her angora. She was beaming and her hair bounced and shone as she skipped round the back of the car to stand beside the man. She took his arm and squeezed, then reached up onto her tiptoes and pecked his cheek.

It happened too fast for me to be sure. One minute she was kissing him, holding onto his arm, and the next she was sprawled on her arse. I’d have said she overbalanced, if he had stooped to help her up again. If she was still beaming.

But he was back in the car and she scrambled to her feet, rubbing her hands on her red jeans. Heels of your hands on the gravel like that, they had to be stinging. The car was moving and she hopped and hobbled after it. She managed to get the door open and herself into the seat as he gunned the engine and squealed away.

I trotted down the stairs without touching the banister. It gleamed like an eel, with not a single fingermark along its length. Even though that had been a false alarm, I thought I should get the scones in the oven. The smell of baking when the guests arrive is a basic move. There’s nothing complicated about a batch of cherry scones, but knowing they’ve been baked fresh just for you works wonders on the toughest guest.

And doing it calmed me too. I stepped outside afterwards, wiping my hands on my apron, and found – as I’d suspected

– that the sunglasses man had left a scar on the gravel when he peeled away. I took the rake from where it was leaning half behind the ivy on the long front porch and started scraping the ruts flat again. There was the print of her skinny bum and the two small dents from her hands. I smoothed them away with two swipes of my rake. Then I stopped. I nudged at the little bit of granite until it turned back again, showing the speck of red. She had fallen hard enough to break the skin and bleed.

I picked it up – that one red chip in the sea of perfect silver-grey – and put it in my pocket, beside the petals I’d tidied from a table-top and the white thread I’d lifted from a black hand-towel. Then I raised my head at the sound of an engine round the bend of the drive. They were coming back, or someone was arriving.

I didn’t have time to get out of sight unless I took the rake with me so I stashed it back among the ivy and waited on the step like a welcome party.

It was a different car. This one was a red hatchback, sitting low on its suspension. The driver tooted a tune – Tum-tiddly- aye-la! – as it got close and someone waved at me from the passenger seat. I wiggled my fingers in reply as the car slowed and stopped.

It was another couple. Or maybe not, I thought as they climbed out, since both of them had the same short legs and thick waists, the same brown eyes. His hair was clumsily cut into a divot and hers had highlighted spikes, but it was the same hair.

‘Unbe-fucking-lievable!’ said the man. He was standing staring up at the house like the Range Rover guy, knuckling his back and pushing his paunch out like a pregnancy.

‘It’s not,’ said the woman. ‘It can’t be. Glancing similarity.’ Then she smiled at me. ‘You must be Kim.’ She scurried forward, trying to get her bag, coat, phone and a bunch of flowers out of the way to shake my hand. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you at long last.’

‘I’m Donna Weaver,’ I said. ‘Welcome to The Breakers.

You’re the first to arrive.’

‘Donna?’ said the man. ‘What the hell happened to Kim?’ His voice swooped with concern, but his eyes were twinkling. ‘Shut up, Buck,’ the woman said. ‘Ow.’ An earring had caught on her fluffy jumper and her head jerked to the side as she fiddled with it.

‘Here,’ I said, stepping forward. ‘Let me. I’m Donna from Home From Home. I’m going to be looking after you for the weekend.’

‘Oh, you’re a sweetheart,’ the woman said, working her neck round, now the earring was free again. ‘I’m Peach Plummer.’

‘Peach,’ I repeated, staring hard at her. I was trying to get her name into my head. She misread me.

‘God, don’t I know!’ she said. ‘But my real name’s Morag.

And this is my brother, Buck.’

Peach, I told myself. Round and fuzzy. And sweary Buck.

Rhymes with—

‘Buchanan Leslie,’ the man said, shaking my hand. ‘The curse of my mother’s maiden name. If you’re trying to tick us off on your sheet, you should know that my wife’s not coming. One of the ankle-biters has come down with tonsillitis and she drew the short straw.’

‘Hmm,’ said Peach. ‘We’ll measure the straws on Sunday, shall we?’

‘Right then, Donna-from-Home-from-Home,’ Buck said, after a moment’s silence. ‘When you say you’re looking after us, are you unpacking the car and ironing our jimmy-jams or should we—’

‘Shut up, Buck.’

‘I’ll show you to your rooms and then leave you to unpa—’ I began, but he spoke over me.

‘No need to show us anything, Donna. Every nook and cranny is seared into our brains, despite all the therapy.’

‘We think we’ve been here before, you see,’ Peach said. ‘But it wasn’t called The Breakers then.’

‘That’s right,’ I told them. ‘It had a name-change. It used to be . . . Knockbreak House, I think.’

‘That’s right enough, then,’ said Buck. ‘God almighty.’ ‘Welcome back!’ I spread my arms.

‘I’d still love to see over it,’ said Peach. ‘It was a right old dump when we were kids. And look at it now.’

‘But don’t look at it with a black light,’ Buck said. ‘Just kidding,’ he added. He even gave me a wink.

But I didn’t miss the way he hesitated on the porch before he walked through into the vestibule. I was holding the inner glass door for him and, as he passed, I could see his arm where his sleeve was rucked up and the gooseflesh that bristled there.

Praise for Catriona McPherson and GO TO MY GRAVE:

“GO TO MY GRAVE is both a classic ‘country house mystery’ and a thriller. Atmospheric, with mind-bending twists, a narrator who may or may not be reliable, and an ending that will take your breath away and leave you astonished.” – Louise Penny

“A Gothic feast of a novel, this is a country house book with a difference: contemporary, punchy and disturbing, but using the tricks and twists of the best of Christie.” – Ann Cleeves

“GO TO MY GRAVE is a terrific mystery—sharp, devious, and suspenseful. Catriona McPherson has written another winner.” – Meg Gardiner 

Additional Praise for Catriona McPherson:

“Unnerving and suspenseful ... McPherson's best yet.” – Karin Slaughter on House. Tree. Person.

“A one-sitting read.” – Kirkus Reviews (starred review) on House. Tree. Person.

“Both cozy and creepy ... quirky charm.” – The New York Times on Quiet Neighbors

“The definition of a good book.” – Charlaine Harris on Quiet Neighbors

“Layer upon layer of deception ... a fine read.” – Kirkus Reviews (starred review) on Quiet Neighbors

“Outstanding.” – Publishers Weekly (starred review) on Quiet Neighbors

“Complex and character-driven ... atmospheric and suspenseful.” – Library Journal (starred review) on Quiet Neighbors

“A warmhearted character study ... that shivers with suspense.” – The New York Times on The Child Garden

“Agatha Christie meets Upstairs Downstairs ... [For] fans of Phyrne Fisher and Maisie Dobbs.”
– Publishers Weekly on the Dandy Gilver Mysteries

“A dandy series from a Scottish-born author; wit, humor, clues, and red herrings abound.” – The Boston Globe on the Dandy Gilver Mysteries

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Blurb Blitz & #Giveaway: The Exene Chronicles by Camille A. Collins ~ @GoddesFish


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Camille will be awarding a lovely pen and notebook to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
About the Book:
Camille A. Collins's lyrical debut novel speaks to the passionate engagement of adolescent girls—with music, with injustice, with love, with life. This is a courageous coming-of-age story, one that poet Nikki Giovanni recommends "sharing with our teenage sons and daughters."

Collins's 1980s southern California set novel is a literary debut that tackles social inequality with poetic riffs and heart-pounding angst.

Read an Excerpt:

It was not the paper doll cutout, but Exene’s actual mouth that Lia imagined, twisted into a snarl, blaming her. ‘It’s you, Lia! It’s all your fault what happened to Ryan!’ Because Lia’s mother had woken her to say Ryan never made it home the previous night. Fraught with worry, Mrs. Green had already phoned the police, and Lia’s first thought was that Ryan must be dead.

Right away, Lia found the only way to deal with the worst possible scenario was to confront it head-on, to embrace it as though she were cradling in her arms a soft kitten. Lia’s rendition of the death of her very best friend was not especially morbid, or as gruesomely detailed as it might have been. It was the quixotic rendering of a burgeoning poetess.

At the very least, Ryan deserved the grandeur of theater. So Lia envisioned the most enchanted garden, a neat little knoll of green, green grass nestled beneath an elegant magnolia tree in full bloom. That graceful magnolia would weep its ripe, inflorescent tears down onto a grand mausoleum. Ryan’s body would lie inside, near the hollow mouth of her final abode, a structure built of the finest marble, festooned with chiseled hearts, and inside those hearts would be inscribed eternal valentines proclaiming, “Ryan we love you” and “Forever in our hearts,” all with floating cupids, their arrows shooting heavenward. Ryan’s body would lie cold, her skin luminous, enlivened by the candent glow of four flaming torches, bathing her heart-shaped face in a delicate nimbus of pale yellow light. Her body would be covered by a white linen sheet, and nestled against the slope of her shoulders and the tapering silhouette of her waist and legs would be flowers: orchids and white roses, failing in all their beauty to compare to Ryan’s infinitely ravishing, cold, dead grace. Lia’s short reverie was disturbed by her mother’s persistence—Mrs. Payne stood in the doorway of Lia’s bedroom with a hand on her hip. “Baby, you’ve got to get up. Don’t be scared now. The police just want to talk to you about what you and Ryan did last night.”

Meet the Author:

Camille A. Collins has an MFA in Creative Writing from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She has been the recipient of the Short Fiction Prize from the South Carolina Arts Commission, and her writing has appeared in The African-American National Biography, published by Harvard University and Oxford University Press; in The Twisted Vine, a literary journal of Western New Mexico University, and other places.

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/kindle-dbs/entity/author/B07HGLR7FN/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vu00_tkin_p1_i0
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4398269.Camille_Collins
Publisher Author Page: http://www.brainmillpress.com/the-exene-chronicles

Purchase Link: 

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07FB2MHT1/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0

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Blurb Blitz & #Giveaway ~ BREAKDOWN Series, Book 4: What She Knew by Regan Black @ReganBlack @GoddessFish


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Genre: Suspsense

About the Series:
BREAKDOWN is a unique and groundbreaking four-book suspense series that will keep you turning pages until the killer is finally exposed.

In this explosive new miniseries, the idyllic community of Shutter Lake, nestled in the peaceful Sierra Nevada Mountains, is rocked by a shocking murder. Four women, friends who moved to the area to find healing and solace, must now dig deep and overcome the scars of past troubles to find a ruthless killer.

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About BREAKDOWN Book 4: What She Knew by Regan Black:

THE BREAKDOWN ERUPTS…Dr. Luciana Perez thought she hit the jackpot when she landed the position at the Shutter Lake Medical Clinic. Until her friend Sylvia Cole is murdered and the authorities come calling, certain that Luciana has more information about the crime.

But Luciana only knows Sylvia had secrets she wasn’t inclined to share. Secrets that had Sylvia seriously worried. Secrets someone was willing to kill to keep buried. Every day that the killer isn’t found, Luciana’s fear tightens like a noose around her neck: fear of her own secrets being exposed, fear of becoming the next victim, and fear that the murderer will irrevocably shatter the idyllic peace and security of their beautiful town.
Read an Excerpt:

Her house of cards was swaying. About to topple.

Dr. Luciana Perez sat in her home office, her chair turned toward the gray, rainy evening on the other side of the window. The vibrant fall color of the trees behind her house had been muted by the weather as well as her mood. On the desk, her cell phone chimed with yet another text message alert and she ignored it, her courage momentarily failing her.

She’d heard the news via text an hour ago and she had yet to shake off the chill that washed over her. A young woman, stripped to the waist, had been pulled from the river. The body was not immediately recognizable, thanks to the natural course of decomposition, but she could almost hear the name in the ping and patter of raindrops against the glass: Josie Rodriguez.

Ana had never been more grateful that her scope of work at the Shutter Lake Medical Clinic didn’t include serving as the coroner.

The text message notifying her about the body had been from her friend Dana Perkins. Dana, a superb psychologist and principal of Shutter Lake School, had been worried about Josie for weeks. Ana knew this wasn’t the answer Dana had hoped for when she asked their friend Julia Ford, a former investigative reporter to look into the girl’s disappearance.

Maybe it wasn’t Josie after all.

If only. A bitter, half-sob slipped through Ana’s lips. If the remains turned out to be someone other than Josie, the tension and fear gripping Shutter Lake would only increase exponentially. She had a few patients who didn’t need that kind of stress exacerbating underlying concerns and conditions.

Some of the brightest minds in industry, technology, and banking had come together to build and develop this town, planting their idea of paradise in the gorgeous Sierra Mountains of northern California. From the school to the cutting edge medical clinic she ran to the commitment to the arts, Shutter Lake had been a slice of heaven. More than a home, here she’d found the peace and stability she needed to heal even as she engaged her skills to heal others.

She loved being their doctor, caring for the community as a whole. Her staff, carefully selected, had become a second family and a high-functioning team every bit as essential to delivering excellent care as the state-of-the-art equipment the city council provided.

Murder had changed that.

Purchase What She Knew from Amazon

Meet the Author:

Regan Black, a USA Today bestselling author, writes award-winning, action-packed novels. Raised in the Midwest and California, she and her family, along with their adopted greyhound and two arrogant cats reside in the South Carolina Lowcountry where the rich blend of legend, romance, and history fuels her imagination.

Website: http://www.ReganBlack.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ReganBlack.fans
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReganBlack
Instagram: http://https//www.instagram.com/reganblackauthor/


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