Blog Tour: Hook Shot by Kennedy Ryan

"Kennedy Ryan weaves prose like a magician (or voodoo priestess) without sacrificing heat or page-turning angst to create authentic, living, breathing characters you want to root for to the end. Hook Shot is simply beautiful." -- Emma Scott, Bestselling Author

Hook Shot, a deeply emotional standalone set in the worlds of professional basketball and high fashion from Kennedy Ryan, is available now and FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Enter the Release Giveaway for a $50 Gift Card +Signed HOOK SHOT Paperback here:

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Divorced. Single dad. Traded to a losing squad.

Cheated on, betrayed, exposed.

My perfect life blew up in my face and I'm still picking up the pieces.

The last thing I need is her.

A wildflower. A storm. A woman I can't resist.

Lotus DuPree is a kick to my gut and a wrench in my plans

from the moment our eyes meet.

I promised myself I wouldn't trust a woman again,

but I've never wanted anyone the way I want Lo.

She's not the plan I made, but she's the risk I have to take.

A warrior. A baller. The one they call Gladiator.

Kenan Ross charged into my life smelling all good, looking even better and snatching my breath from the moment we met.

The last thing I need is him.

I’m working on me. Facing my pain and conquering my demons.

I've seen what trusting a man gets you.

Don't. Have. Time. For. This.

But he just keeps coming for me.

Keeps knocking down my defenses and stealing my excuses

one by one.

He never gives up, and now...I'm not sure I want him to.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Audiobook Release: April 30th

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Start the HOOPS series with LONG SHOT today for only 99¢!

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EXCERPT

After talking to Kenan for the last few minutes, and looking under his hood, so to speak, I’ve found that he’s a classic. They don’t make them like him anymore, and if I don’t change the subject, change the course of this conversation, I’ll fool myself that we don’t have to keep things simple and that we could be more than just friends, not just for the summer, but for a long time to come. As long as I’d like. “Okay,” I say, switching gears without a clutch and pulling a tie off another of Amanda’s racks. “I think that shirt could work really well with this tie.” He doesn’t look at the tie I’m holding up, but keeps his eyes fastened on me. He’s not playing along. I’ve boxed myself into a corner with him. And the quarters are too tight. His scent. His warmth. His intelligence. His thoughtfulness. He is pressing in on me, overtaking my good intentions in all the ways I never thought a man could. “Try this on,” I say, blindly shoving the mint green shirt at him. When I look at him, he’s already peeled one shirt off and is reaching for the one I chose. I didn’t think this through. Didn’t forecast that Kenan changing from one shirt into another would mean his naked chest. I lose my train of thought and all my chill. Besides my mouth dropping open at the sight of the sculpted terrain of his chest and abs, I give no other indication that he affects me. Taut, bronze skin stretches across his broad shoulders like supple canvas pulled over a frame, the foundation of a masterpiece. He’s a big man. Not bulky, but instead chiseled to the specifications of a master sculptor: arms roped with muscles, biceps like rocks under skin glowing with health. The forearms Chase raved about are lined with veins and sinew. And I die for a great chest. I’ve never seen one more spectacular than Kenan’s. Two words. Male. Nipples. Jesus, my mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting them, sucking them, licking them. And if that pectoral perfection weren’t enough, the two columns of muscles, four each, are stacked over his lean stomach arrowing down to a narrow waist and hips. I can’t look away. I lick my lips, imagining how he would feel under my mouth. How I’d lick around his nipples and drag my tongue down that shallow path bisecting his abdominal muscles. I’d slip that belt off and sink to my knees. Unzip those pants and take him out. God, hold him in my hands and then take him all the way to the back of my throat. I’d choke on him. A man this big . . . I’d be so tight around him. “Lotus,” Kenan says, jarring me from my torso trance. “Should I go ahead and put this shirt on? Or did you need a little more time?” I snap a glance up to his face, embarrassed to find him laughing at me. Oh, God. I’m as bad as Amanda. I turn to leave, but he catches my elbow with a gentle hand and turns me back around, walking us behind two of the racks. He bends until he’s almost eye level with me. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, searching my face intently. “I’m glad you like my body.” “I didn’t say I . . .” My words trail off at his knowing grin. “Okay. So you have a nice body. I work in fashion. Do you have any idea how many great bodies I see on a daily basis?” “I’m sure many,” he says, his smile still firmly in place. “I can’t speak for any of them, only for the way you looked at me.” “And how do you think I looked at you?” I ask defensively, forcing myself not to look away. In the quiet that follows, his smile fades, and heat replaces the humor in his eyes. “You looked at me the way I bet I’ve looked at you every time you walk into a room,” he says, the timbre of his voice rolling over my sensitive skin like a caress. “Like I would eat you if I could. Head to toe, everything in between.” “Kenan,” I protest, closing my eyes on a groan. “We said friends. We said simple. This is not how you start a simple friendship.” His large hand cups my jaw and lifts my chin. I open my eyes, blinking dazedly at him. I wasn’t prepared for how his touch makes me feel. How I instantly crave more of it; want to lean into the warmth; to turn and trace his lifeline with my tongue. Tell him all the things I could discover just from reading his palm and looking into his eyes. How can such a large hand feel so gentle, like it’s capable of treasuring, cherishing? “Okay, Lotus,” he says, regret and reluctance woven around my name. “Simple. Friendship.”

About Kennedy

A Top 25 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy Ryan writes about women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine and Frolic, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Atlanta Autism families, she has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for families living with autism.

Connect with Kennedy

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Blog Tour: Motion by Penny Reid

Motion, the first in the all-new Laws of Physics Trilogy from Wall Street Journal and New York Times bestselling author Penny Reid, is available now!

One week.

Home alone.

Girl genius.

Unrepentant slacker.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Mona is a smart girl and had everything figured out a long time ago. She had to. She didn’t have a choice. When your parents are uber-celebrities and you graduate from high school at thirteen, finish college at seventeen, and start your PhD program at eighteen, you don’t have time for distractions outside of your foci. Even fun is scheduled.

Which is why Abram, her brother’s best friend, is such an irritant.

Abram is a talented guy, a supremely gifted musician, and has absolutely nothing figured out, nor does he seem to care. He does what he feels, when he feels, and—in Mona’s opinion—he makes her feel entirely too much.

Laws of Physics is the second trilogy in the Hypothesis series; Laws of Physics parts 1 (MOTION) & 2 (SPACE) end with a cliffhanger.

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Excerpt:

My stomach rumbled, long and loud, and I pressed my hand against it. Grunting into the darkness, I tossed off the covers and stood from Lisa’s bed. Food on my mind, I slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The kitchen was dark, but instead of flipping on a light—which might’ve alerted Abram as to my whereabouts . . . which he probably didn’t care about so long as “Lisa wasn’t doing anything crazy”—I crept on quiet feet to the fridge and opened it. Momentarily dazzled by the bright light within, it took several seconds of squinting and blinking before the scant contents became visible. I frowned. In addition to the pizza box, two suspicious-looking containers of Chinese takeout, and various condiments, I found: shredded cheddar/jack cheese blend, a zucchini, a half a pint of mushrooms, and hot salsa. Opening the hot salsa, I smelled it, and then I dipped my pinkie inside and tasted it while examining the lid. It looked, smelled, and tasted fine. Placing my finds on the island counter, I shut the fridge. The sudden extinguishing of the bright light meant that the kitchen was now pitch black. Shrugging off my lack of sight, I extended my arms and blindly felt my way over to the pantry until my hands connected with the torso of a person. A person. A PERSON! I jumped back on instinct, my leg hitting one of the stools at the island counter and sending it crashing to the ground. My heart in my throat, I screamed, turned, and darted forward, but my feet tangled with the felled stool and I pitched, bracing myself for a gravitational collision with unseen wooden bars and a granite stool top. But then strong arms caught me, deftly spinning and lifting me into the air. Cold dread rushed through my body, tensing every muscle. I couldn’t think. I didn’t think. Instinctively, my legs and fists pumped, fighting against my captor. Rocks in my throat as I readied another scream, a hand covered my mouth just as I belted it out. “Whoa! Calm down. It’s me.” Abram’s voice at my ear soothed, his bulky arm a tight band around my torso, my back to his front, my feet not touching the ground. “Calm down. Shhh. Calm down.” Hot breath teased my hair and neck, and I stilled, relief at discovering it was Abram didn’t quite chase away the viral panic still attached to my hemoglobin, coursing through my veins. I shook. I was shaking. And I was gasping through my nose, greedy for air. Perhaps he heard or felt my strained breathing because his arm loosened, lowering my feet to the ground, and his hand covering my mouth slid away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” “I’m fine,” I said, not sounding convincing. Truth was, I felt like throwing up. “Can you, uh, let me go?” His arms immediately fell away and I stupidly rushed forward, once more crashing into the stool. I heard Abram mutter a curse under his breath just as he caught me again, lifting me off the ground again, and saving me—again—from another gravitational collision. This time he turned us away from the stool and carried me across the room. I didn’t fight him this time. In fact, I relaxed into him. Wired and exhausted, but mostly embarrassed, I allowed myself to be transported without protest. We left the kitchen and I was finally able to see dim outlines of furniture and walls, courtesy of the streetlamp illumination spilling through the windows of the living room. Abram carried me to my mother’s favorite piece of furniture in our house, a gold velvet chaise lounge said to have once belonged to Napoleon’s sister, Pauline Bonaparte. Depositing me on the soft surface, Abram crossed to one of the Tiffany lamps and pulled the chain, bathing the room in soft blue and yellow, colored light filtering through the stained glass. He then returned, knelt in front of me, one hand on my leg, the other cupping my cheek. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” I said, cleared my throat, unable to lift my eyes higher than his black T-shirt, and said again, “Yes.” He blew out a breath, pushing his fingers through my hair. By doing so, he forced my chin up and caught my gaze. That wrinkle of worry appeared between his eyebrows, and his very pretty eyes—which glowed and sparkled like polished amber cabochons—moved between mine. “You really freaked out.” I stiffened, gritting my teeth and yanking my head back, out of his reach. “I didn’t know you were there.” Watching me with watchful watchfulness, he let his hand drop slowly until it rested on my left leg, next to his other hand which covered my right knee. “I said your name—twice—when I walked in.” “I didn’t hear you.” I glanced from his eyes to where his palms were hot on my skin. “And I couldn’t see. I’d just shut the fridge, my eyes hadn’t adjusted.” “Did you think I was a robber?” His left eyebrow lifted as did the side of his mouth, just a hint. Clearly, he was trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, I still felt shaky. And embarrassed. “I- I didn’t think,” I admitted, releasing an unsteady breath. “I wasn’t thinking. Sorry I fell.” “No need to apologize. It wasn’t like you could help it.” “Yeah. Gravity can be such a downer.” He made a light, laughing sound. “What?” “Uh, nothing. Whatever.” No physics jokes! His frown returned, his fingers flexing slightly on my legs. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Reaching for his hands, I removed them from my knees, setting them away. “I’m really fine. I just don’t like—” He glanced at my knees. “Being touched?” “When it’s unexpected.” I crossed my arms. “That makes sense. But your reaction, even after you knew it was me—” He paused and sat back on his heels, as though debating how to continue and finally settling on, “It was a big reaction.” Abram continued to study me with his big, pretty, knowing brown eyes. “Hey, I would never hurt you.” I winced, just a little, my gaze falling to my knees where his hands had been. I wanted to huff a laugh and roll my eyes, maybe say something like, I know, don’t be ridiculous. But the word “Okay,” small and fragile sounding, slipped out instead. I immediately wished it back, because I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know why I’d said it, and I hated not knowing. Get ahold of yourself, Mona. Pull it together. You are fine. Nothing happened. Meanwhile, he continued his examination of me, I felt his stare, assessing my downturned face. “Out of curiosity, and no big deal if you don’t want to say, but did something happen to you this last year?” My back straightened and I sucked in a slow, deep breath before asking calmly, “Like what?” “You’re very . . . different than you were before.” “Because I don’t want you touching me?” I tried to infuse my words with challenge, strength—wanting to shake off any earlier impression of weakness—and mostly succeeded. Peeking at him, I gauged his reaction from behind a hastily built wall of dispassion. But then Abram dropped his chin to his chest, a massive grin lighting his features, and the fragrance of him hit me. My lashes fluttered as though he’d blown dust in my eyes, penetrating my wobbly wall of dispassion and sending it crumbling to the ground. God, he smelled so good, and—unlike visual stimuli—I couldn’t stop whatever cascade of relaxing, soothing, melting awareness smelling his scent set off. Unthinkingly, I leaned forward an inch, chasing and inhaling the smell of him while he cleared his throat, like he was trying not to laugh. Why he was fighting a laugh, I didn’t know, but the apparent genuineness of Abram’s struggle to subdue his grin only served to increase his attractiveness. A moment later, he lifted his eyes and they connected with mine. He’d conceded to a shy smile. It was quite a smile. “Yes,” he said. “Yes?” I parroted dumbly. What were we talking about? And would it be weird if I buried my nose in his neck? “Yes. You not wanting me to touch you means that you are very different now than you were before,” he explained. I appreciated the completeness and thoroughness of his sentence. My cheeks were hot. I pressed my hands against them while I examined him with suspicion. What was he doing to me? “How so?” I asked, hoping to keep him talking so I could hunt down the splintered pieces of my concentration. His eyebrows pulled together as his shy smile became a smirk. “You’re telling me you don’t remember?” “Tell me your version of events,” I demanded, side-stepping a lie and still holding my cheeks. “Uhh . . .” He scratched the back of his neck, peering at me like I both confused and amused him. I was used to confusing people, but not amusing them. My cheeks burned hotter. “Do you even remember?” I pushed, knowing my tone was belligerent. He made a sound like he was choking on a laugh. “Yes. It’s hard to forget waking up to a naked girl in my bed.” Jaw dropping, my eyes grew to their maximum diameter. Naked. Girl. In . . . bed? “Are you serious?” I whispered, my mind darting in all directions, attempting to form a reasonable hypothesis for Lisa’s behavior and coming up completely empty. Suddenly, I couldn’t catch my breath. He shook his head, giving me an astonished once-over. “You honestly don’t remember?” My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to speak, but it was no use. I was too . . . I was too many things. Shocked. Confused. Incredulous. ANGRY. LISA! What had she been thinking? She’d been eighteen! How would she have liked waking up to find a strange, naked, eighteen-year-old boy in her bed? I was beyond shocked. I was horrified. I was electrocuted by the reality of my sister’s brazen-slash-creepy quotient, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything in the same sphere of possibility. I was beginning to believe that if my twin and I were represented by a Venn diagram, our only areas of overlap would be physical. A minor sliver of shared corporal characteristics, and that was absolutely it. “Lisa?” Blinking at Abram, and promptly becoming tangled in his searching gaze, I realized he was still there. And I was still here. And my hands were still pressed against my cheeks as I warred with what I now identified as hot mortification. What else could I do? I shot to my feet and marched out of the living room, dropping my hands and running up the main staircase.

Pre-order the rest of the series today!

Space

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Time

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Meet Penny Reid:

Penny Reid is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Winston Brothers, Knitting in the City, Rugby, and Hypothesis series. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.

Connect with Penny:

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www.pennyreid.ninja

Release & Review: We Shouldn't by Vi Keeland

A Standalone Contemporary Romance

#1 New York Times Bestselling Author Vi Keeland

SYNOPSIS:

Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning. I was late for the first day at my new job—a job I’d now have to compete for even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons. She’d ticketed a long line of cars—except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine. Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine. Chances were, the owner would pay it and be none the wiser. Except, I accidentally broke the windshield wiper while slipping the ticket onto the car’s window. Seriously, my day couldn’t get any worse. Things started to perk up when I ran into a gorgeous man in the elevator. We had one of those brief moments that only happened in movies. You know the deal…your body lights up, fireworks go off, and the air around you crackles with electricity. His heated stare left me flushed when I stepped off the elevator. Maybe things here wouldn’t be so bad after all. Or so I thought. Until I walked into my new boss’s office and met my competition. The gorgeous man from the elevator was now my nemesis. His heated stare wasn’t because of any mutual attraction. It was because he’d seen me vandalize his car. And now he couldn’t wait to annihilate his rival. There’s a fine line between love and hate—and we shouldn’t cross it. We shouldn’t—but straddling that line could be so much fun. PURCHASE LINKS: Amazon ➜ https://amzn.to/2RUCszM iBooks ➜ http://smarturl.it/hmp0xb Amazon paperback ➜ http://amzn.to/2sgA0oP B&N ➜ http://smarturl.it/5zqpdu Google Play ➜ http://smarturl.it/f6prjg Audio ➜ http://smarturl.it/e2gv12 Sign up for Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live! ➜ https://www.subscribepage.com/i6h3o5 Do you like texts better than email? Receive text notices of Vi’s new releases by texting the word BOOKS to 77948 You will ONLY receive a text when a new book goes live - no other messages at all!

CLICK BELOW FOR TARA'S REVIEW:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Vi Keeland

Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in two dozen languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six. Sign up for Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when books go live! ➜ https://www.subscribepage.com/i6h3o5 Do you like texts better than email? Receive text notices of Vi’s new releases by texting the word BOOKS to 77948 You will ONLY receive a text when a new book goes live - no other messages at all!

Find Vi here:

Facebook Fan Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ViKeelandFanGroup/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/vi.keeland https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Vi-Keeland/435952616513958 Website: http://www.vikeeland.com Twitter: @vikeeland - https://twitter.com/ViKeeland Instagram: @Vi_Keeland - http://instagram.com/Vi_Keeland/ BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/vi-keeland Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6887119.Vi_Keeland

Vi's Other Standalone Novels

The Naked Truth

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Sex, Not Love

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Beautiful Mistake

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Egomaniac

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Bossman

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The Baller

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Life on Stage series (2 Standalone Books)

Throb

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Beat

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MMA Fighter series (3 Standalone Books)

Worth the Fight

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Worth the Chance

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Worth Forgiving

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Worth It All (Complete Fighter Series)

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Serials

The Cole Series (2 Book Serial)

Belong to You

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Made for You

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Vi's Co-written Novels

Hate Notes

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The Rush Series (2 Book Series)

Rebel Heir

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Rebel Heart

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B&N: http://smarturl.it/ew2ggj

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2H7FRCm

The Cocky Bastard Series ( 5 Standalone Books)

**NOTE: FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, The Cocky Bastard Series is now available in KINDLE UNLIMITED!

FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY!**

British Bedmate

(Previously titled: Dear Bridget, I Want You)

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2I9CSxm

iBooks: http://smarturl.it/y4x3xi

B&N: http://smarturl.it/o780mb

Kobo: http://smarturl.it/kfgc6a

Cocky Bastard

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JIy7HT

iTunes: http://apple.co/1PffE2J

B&N: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO

Stuck-Up Suit

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KvRMfE

iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57

B&N: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV

Kobo: http:// bit.ly/1RJdUif

Playboy Pilot

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HFAtec

iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf

B&N: bit.ly/2caXPEK

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2cJDXO1

Mister Moneybags

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HFgHzm

iBooks: http://smarturl.it/3y1tuq

B&N: http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m

Kobo http://smarturl.it/qqf5ho

By:Vi Keeland & Dylan Scott

Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HGMjVw

Release & Review: Deal With The Devil by Meghan March

From New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller

Meghan March comes the first book in a new riveting romance trilogy

filled with international high-stakes, dangerous hidden agendas,

and—in true March fashion—plenty of twists and turns.

ABOUT THE BOOK

DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

Forge Trilogy, Book #1

Red Dress Press | On Sale: January 15, 2019

BOOK TEASER:

From New York Times bestselling author Meghan March comes the story of the ruthless, calculating billionaire Jericho Forge. India Baptiste, his latest prey, is now caught in the high stakes game that has become her life since colliding with Forge, and she’ll need the luck of the devil to survive. India Forge’s life is now part of Jericho Forge’s calculated game.

COVER BLURB:

"You can put that man in a suit, but he'll never be tame."

One look at Jericho Forge and I knew the rumors were true. He was a predator, and he had set his sights on me.

I knew better than to bet more than I could afford to lose that night. I knew better than to bet myself. But desperation leads to bad decisions, and I thought there was no way I could lose.

I was wrong.

Now I have no choice but to make a deal with the devil.

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RELEASE BLITZ & TOUR-WIDE GIVEAWAY

Giveaway Details: Enter for your chance to win one of five signed copies of Deal with the Devil!

Rafflecopter Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/5ef7d5454/?

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Dawn's 5 Star Review

 

BOOK LINKS

Book 1 FB Spoiler Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/790140534687700/

Book 1 Buy Links:

• Apple Books ⇢ https://apple.co/AEHSC2
• Amazon US ⇢ https://amzn.to/2CQHc2f
• Amazon UK ⇢ https://amzn.to/2S1L9Fk
• Amazon AU ⇢ https://amzn.to/2pZFlQd
• Amazon CA ⇢ https://amzn.to/2QZSVym
• Kobo ⇢ http://bit.ly/DealWithTheDevilKobo
• BN ⇢ http://bit.ly/DealWithTheDevilNook
• Google Play ⇢ http://bit.ly/2FedjK6

Official Trilogy Landing Pages:

• Book 1 - Deal with the Devil: http://www.meghanmarch.com/deal-with-the-devil/
• Book 2 - Luck of the Devil (*PREORDER): http://www.meghanmarch.com/luck-of-the-devil/
• Book 3 - Heart of the Devil (*PREORDER): http://www.meghanmarch.com/heart-of-the-devil/

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Making the jump from corporate lawyer to romance author was a leap of faith that New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Meghan March will never regret. With over thirty titles published, she has sold millions of books in nearly a dozen languages to fellow romance-lovers around the world. A nomad at heart, she can currently be found in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, living her happily ever after with her real-life alpha hero.

You can find her online at: MeghanMarch.com, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.