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Release Blitz: Bourbon Love Notes by Shari J Ryan

13/1/2020

Title: Bourbon Love Notes
(#1 of Barrel House)

Author: Shari J Ryan

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Military

Amazon (US/UK/CA/Aus)

Goodreads

In a split second, life can steal a last breath ... and derail all future plans.

While flying home after a phone call that left me heartbroken, a row to myself would have been ideal. Instead, I was unknowingly sitting shoulder to shoulder with a strikingly attractive single dad and ex-Marine. I could have pretended not to notice the man, but there was something familiar about him.

It didn’t take long before I pieced together where I knew him from or why he was back in my life.

With chaos holding me hostage, I wanted to hide but couldn’t avoid Brett Pearson, our old family friend, and my teenage crush, because he kindly offered to help out with my family’s business—The Barrel House.

Handling my father’s distillery would be a distraction from my brutal reality. Except, I never paid close attention to the art of making bourbon, unlike Brett, who was full of bourbon knowledge. He offered to teach me a thing or two, but all I could focus on was the way his lips moved when he spoke to me.

I needed to grieve, and my head was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but my heart was splitting at the seams.

Bourbon was spilled, drinks were shared, but could passion ignite from a dying last wish?

Excerpt . . .

Copyright 2019 - Shari J. Ryan

How can Dad be thinking about so much when he doesn’t know if there will be a tomorrow? I can’t believe he already hired someone to run the business. I can’t pretend like I ever had intentions of taking over the shop, even knowing Dad wouldn’t be able to run it forever, but the thought hadn’t crossed my mind because Dad is supposed to live well past his retirement age. Nothing has gone as I have planned since I graduated college, and while I have traveled along with the bumps in the road, everything feels like it’s crashing down on me now.
Maybe I have no business being in The Barrel House, pretending like I know everything there is to know about running a bourbon distillery.
“Melody!” It’s Brett. He’s calling after me. Doesn’t he know when a woman runs out a door, it’s probably best not to follow her?
I turn back toward the firehouse, watching him walk toward me. My instinct forces me to take a step back, which causes me to trip off the curb. I catch myself on a car, thankfully, but the car’s alarm beeps at me just to add an extra dose of humiliation to this moment.
My heart is in my throat, or maybe it’s my stomach. My head is spinning and ... why did he have to come after me?
“I need to get back home. I should be with my dad,” I tell him, looking both ways to make sure I don’t get creamed by a car on top of it all. The coast is clear and I cross the street, finding my way to Mom’s car.
“Wait up for a second,” Brett continues, following me across the street. He places his hand on the door, preventing me from opening it and jumping inside. “Your dad wanted a bottle,” he says, handing me the bottle of Red Apple that Dad did, in fact, request.
“How did you—”
“He called to warn me that you were on your way down, flustered, upset, trying to be a hero, and you’d most likely forget that he requested a bottle of Red Apple.” Brett laughs sweetly, smiling benevolently. “I’m not trying to take over your family business, despite what you might be thinking. My dad has been a barrel supplier for your dad since before either of us were born. I was just asked to come help you guys out.”
“I know.” In truth, I don’t understand much of anything now. I’ve been going a mile a minute since I got that letter yesterday. I’ve been awake since five this morning, and I’m exhausted. “Thank you for coming to help,” I offer sincerely, wishing he would move his hand from my door.
“I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” The look in Brett’s eyes triggers more pain in my stomach. I’m losing my dad.
“I don’t know what else to do right now other than help him, and being in his shop feels like the only way I can help,” I explain.
The backs of my eyes burn. I’m supposed to be the strong one, but I’m falling apart. I stare up to the sky, waning away the threatening tears. Keep it together, Melody. My body doesn’t respond to my command. Tears trickle, one by one and I gasp for air as my lungs feel like they are deflating. I place my hands over my face, embarrassed to be crying in front of Brett Pearson of all people, but the pain has been building, and though I let a few tears escape this morning at the airport, it clearly wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.
Arms envelop me and my head falls against his firm chest. His embrace is tight and though I don’t know the adult version of Brett well enough to feel comfort from a hug, the squeeze is alleviating some of the pressure in my chest.
The rate of my breaths slow and I’m able to stop the tears from falling. Brett must notice that I’ve calmed down because his arms release from around me and he takes a step back. I don’t know what else to say or do aside from searching his worry-filled eyes as if I’d find the answer there.
He presses the pad of his thumb beneath my eye and sweeps away a remaining tear. “Take some time to process it all,” Brett says, sounding wise beyond his years. “I don’t know how long you’ve known about your Dad becoming sick again, but I doubt there’s any length of time that’s long enough to accept or adjust to that kind of news.”
“I’m going to—” I point to the car.
Brett backs away, slipping his hands into his back pockets. I close myself into the car, rest my head back, and close my eyes for a minute before starting the engine.
A knock on the window startles my eyes to reopen. Brett is standing outside of the car holding up the bottle of Red Apple. I roll the window down and retrieve the bottle. “Thank you,” I tell him. “For everything.”

About the Author . . .

Shari J. Ryan is an International Bestselling Author of Contemporary Romance and Women’s Fiction.

She lives in Massachusetts with her husband and two young sons. Shari started her career as a graphic artist and freelance writer, then found her passion for writing books back in 2011. She has been slaying words and creating imaginary friends ever since.

With over 125k books sold, Shari’s books have hit Amazon's Top 100 bestseller list, Barnes & Noble's Top 10, and iBooks at #1. Some of Shari’s bestselling books include Last Words, The Other Blue Sky, A Heart of Time, and Man Flu from the Man Cave Collection.

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Coming soon . . .

Title: Bourbon On the Rocks
(#2 of Barrel House)

Publication date: April 2nd, 2020

Pre-order: Amazon (US/UK/CA/Aus)

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Cover Reveal & Giveaway: Ripple Effect by Tracey Jerald

10/1/2020

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Title: Ripple Effect

Author: Tracey Jerald

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Military

Publication date: February 3rd, 2020

Cover Design: Tugboat Design

Goodreads

I've experienced the ways love can change a poor man into a rich one, a sinner to a saint, and make people beg for redemption. Yet nothing I'd ever done as profound as marrying the woman I love.

Every mission I took was a risk worth taking knowing I'd go home to her loving arms. What I didn't know was in my quest to right all the wrongs of the world, I was detroying the only part of it I'd die for - my marriage. The ripple effect of miscommunication and the sin of my omissions would change all of our lives. And it would be my wife who would pay the price.

Excerpt . . .

His dark hair is hanging over his ears since he didn't have a chance to get a trim before we left for dinner.
At thirty-six, Cal's more devasting to look at than when I first met him. I could sit for hours and study the way the candlelight highlights the lean planes of his features. Absentmindedly, I reach for my wineglasses on my right. Swirling it around, I listen to Cal finish ordering the extravagant dinner he thinks I need.
What I need is to scream in agony over the overwheling politeness that's beginning to exist in my marriage. When did I lose my lover and gain a roommate? I think hatefully. With a flick of my wrist, the red wine I ordered is sent swirling.
"I don't remember you drinking red," Cal remarks.
There's a lot you'd notice if you were home to see it. Instead of lashing out when Cal's trying, I simply answer, "On one of my trips to Atlanta, a client suggested this."
"Business seems to be going well." He lifts his own glass and takes a drink.
What, are we on our first date? The urge to throw back a scathing reply is on the tip of my tongue. Until the candlelight catches my wedding rings, sending a twinkle in my eye. I let it go. "It is. There's a possibility of being features in a few magazines." I shrug if off as if the news is nothing major even though when the news came in, I sobbed because I wanted to share it with my husband.
But he was away. Again.
"That's incredible, Libs." He lifts his glass. I click mine against it. "We have more than just your birthday to celebrate tonight."
"I suppose so."
Cal pushes back from his chair. Coming around the table, he slips his fingers into his pocket of his suit jacket. Pulling out a solitaire choke chain, he clasps it around my neck before brushing his lips against the back of it.
Shivers I can't control race through my body. "Cal, there was no need. All I want is you." It's the God's honest truth, I just want to find that spark that's been missing from my marriage.
"You have me, honey. I will always be yours. I just thought you deserved this. The way it lights up reminded me of you." Another kiss to the curve of my shoulder, which I lean into.
"Thank you," I tell him sincerely. And I mean it. I truly do. No matter what ripples our marriage might have to endure, this is the man I love.
My fingers play with the unfamiliar weight as he makes his way back to his seat.
Gone is the solicitious husband; in his place is the sexy man I've never been able to resist.
"I can't wait to see you wearing just that later."
And I can't help but tease him, "If you're lucky."
He winks just as our appetizers arrive.

* * *

Later that night, Cal is sleeping next to me after thoroughly making love to me.
True to his promise, I'm left wearing nothing but the gift he gave me as a belated birthday present.
I don't know what makes me do it. Grabbing my cell phone, I pull up our joint credit card account. I just want to be wrong. Please.
But my stomach pitches when I see the purchase from earlier today. It's to the infamour jeweler whose distinctive blue box Cal left in our closet so he could appear romatic when he slipped the choker around my neck.
He didn't even get my gift until today. All this talk before he left was just that-talk.
He had no plans. All of this was just an afterthought, just like I am.
Closing my phone and setting it to the side, I carefully unhook the delicate chain and lay it on my end table before extracting myself from Cal's embrace and settling down onto my side of the bed the way I normally do.
Curled up and alone.

Giveaway . . .

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Author . . .

Tracey Jerald knew she was meant to be a writer when she would re-write the ending of books in her head on her bike when she was a young girl growing up in southern Connecticut. It wasn't long before she was typing alternate endings and extended epilogues "just for fun". After college in Florida, where she obtained a degree in Criminal Justice swearing she saw things she'll never quite believe and never quite forget, Tracey traded the world of law and order for IT. Her work for a world-wife internet startup transferred her to Nothern Virginia where she met her husband in what many call their own happily ever after. They have one son. When she's not busy with her family or writing, Tracey can be found in her home in north Florida drinking coffee, reading, training for a run Disney event, or feeding her addiction to HGTV.

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Release Blitz & Giveaway: Chasing Fireflies by Claudia Burgoa

9/9/2019

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Title: Chasing Fireflies

Author: Claudia Burgoa

Genre: Military Romance

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunes

Goodreads

The first time I met Oliver Tanner he was five years old. I was four. That day he was entrusted to my keep. He was as large and loud as a church mouse. That day I taught him how fireflies were magic with the persistence of a person. That’s what I loved about them. No matter how far they strayed, they remembered where they came from and who their family was.

After high school, he joined the army and left Knox Ridge.
Years later, the town had changed. My dreams were shattered. We had nothing left. I had forgotten all about the magic of the fireflies. Until he came back to town. Everything about him was comforting. He brought some light to my darkness, But I knew the light could only last for so long. Fireflies only stay for the summer. He had outgrown our small town. It was time for me to stop chasing fireflies.

Don't miss out on this stunning, second-chance friends to lovers romance.

This full-length novel was originally published in the Cards of Love collection as a novella. It has been revised with additional scenes.

Excerpt . . .

In the beginning, there were fireflies, crisp floating dots wading through the summer breeze.

There were children in the streets and popsicles being passed out by a local grandmother. There were skinned knees, too much sunscreen, and the wafting scent of freshly cut grass. There were long days and even longer nights.
Summers in Knox Ridge were just as much about mosquito nets and cicada songs as they were about lemonade and sunshine.
Knox Ridge wasn’t the biggest town in Georgia, but there were too many of us to learn each other's names by heart. Most people grew up on the same street their parents did all those years ago.
They grew from a twinkle in their parents’ eyes into people who would one day take their places in the layout of our town. Their legacies casted shadows on every succeeding generation—what they’d do, where they lived, and who they loved. The town had a blueprint most didn’t question, but also didn’t consider too much.
“Being a part of Knox Ridge was a privilege,” my Nana used to say.
It was a privilege to live around people who truly care for you and an honor to have a place like Knox Ridge to come home to. “Every town on Earth says they’re the best,” Nana always said. “But how many towns can say ‘if you’re with us, we’ll accept every part of you?’”
Only Knox Ridge. She swore that no one truly left Knox Ridge once they’d gotten a taste of living here, but some took breaks. She was right, some people drifted in and out of our sleepy town, but they always came back home. Even if they hadn’t realized they’d left.
I met Oliver Tanner one blistering afternoon in July.
He was five years old, moving back into the childhood home of his recently deceased father. I was four, sitting next door on my front porch with my best friend, Paige, munching on watermelon as we did nearly every afternoon.
Paige’s father had been my father’s best friend since childhood. Like I said, there was a blueprint to this town. Even Oliver with his ripped cargo shorts and dinosaur toys clenched tightly to his little chest. I had never seen anyone in that house. Not until they arrived.
“I never thought I’d live to see another Tanner live in that house,” my grandmother said.
I wouldn’t learn until years later the tumultuous history of the Tanner family in town. Once one of the most respected families of Knox Ridge, Oliver’s grandfather had left them disgraced and destitute three decades earlier when he ran off to California with a woman he barely knew. The Tanners had been on a downward spiral ever since.
“Well come on, sweeties,” my grandmother nudged Paige and myself. “Let’s go say hello. See if they need anything. That girl doesn’t look a day over twenty.”
Nana had been more or less right. Josey Tanner was twenty-five, freshly widowed, and out of money from living out west. Her only option was moving to this house she’d inherited from her husband’s passing and spread out his meager life insurance for as long as she could.
Nana introduced us to Oliver and his mother. Josey likewise introduced him to us.
“You got movers to help you with that truck?” Nana asked.
“No,” Josey said.
“Are you renting it by the hour or the day?”
“Day,” she answered. “I’ve got it rented for the whole week.”
Nana nodded before waving them both over. “No use doing anything now, then. Come over for some lemonade. My sons get off work at about five. They’ll wrangle up some friends to do it for you.” That day was one of my first memories of Nana being Nana, pulling people together for the common good as she always did.
“Now you two be nice to the Tanner boy,” Nana told Paige and me. “He looks like he could use a bit of TLC.”
That day was also the day Ollie was entrusted to my keep. He was a year older than me, but back in those days, he was as large and loud as a church mouse. His sandy blonde hair stuck up in ways that defied gravity and he mostly muttered as we asked him about his dinosaurs.
We dragged him out back where all the magic happened, spending hours in the sun as the clouds and world passed us by. Our parents filtered in and out to keep an eye on us.
When the sun started to go down, and the fireflies started to peek out from their slumber, it was like his whole face lit up. I think that was the first time I knew I never wanted to stop looking at that smile.

Giveaway . . .

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Author . . .

Claudia grew up with a childhood that resembled a caffeine-injected soap opera. She lives in Colorado working for a small IT company, managing her household filled with three confused dogs, her geek husband, two daughters wrought with fandoms and a son who thinks he’s the boss of the house. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact.

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Blog Tour - Promo & Excerpt: Another Sky by Jayne Frost

25/6/2019

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Title: Another Sky

Author: Jayne Frost

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Military

Amazon (US/UK/CA/Aus)

Goodreads

Miles's story.

Serenity is a lie. Closure a myth.

Peace died in a field six years ago.

I survived. But I left the biggest piece of me there.

In the dark. Trapped beneath twisted metal, drowned in the pouring rain.

But then... A little ray of sun from another sky. Gelsey.

I wanted nothing more than to bathe in her light.

But what do I have left to offer?

Whatever it is, it’s not enough

Excerpt . . .

MILES
Gravel crunched under the tires as my truck coasted to a stop on the shoulder of the two-lane highway. Cutting the engine, I sank against the leather upholstery and looked out at the open field.
And for a moment, the thin veil separating then and now slipped away, and it was six years ago.
On my back beneath the smoke-filled sky, I’d waited for death to claim me. To put an end to the pain.
I was sure it would.
But then I heard the voices. First Rhenn’s—so faint it was nothing more than a whisper.
And then Tori’s.
But not Paige.
Never Paige.
Shifting my gaze to the passenger seat, I almost expected to find her there. But the space was empty. Except for the sealed bottle of Maker’s Mark. Rich, amber liquid whispering promises of peace. Of oblivion.
Lies. All lies. Because no matter what I drank or smoked or swallowed, peace eluded me. Tranquility had died in this field all those years ago. Crushed under the weight of twisted metal and drowned in the pouring rain.

Grimacing, I dug my fingers into the muscle on my thigh, right over the area where the bone had come through the skin. My leg had suffered the worst of the trauma. Broken femur. Dislocated knee cap. A spiral fracture to my tibia.
Maybe if I weren’t a drummer, it wouldn’t have mattered. But the injuries had silenced my beat. Sadly, there was no grave to mark its passing. No monument to the lost rhythm. Just this empty field.

I guess that’s why I always ended up here. In the place where the music died. Right alongside my best friend and my best girl.
Blowing out a breath, I stashed the bottle in the inner pocket of my leather jacket. Two stints in the psychiatric ward at Millwood, and I knew better than to dance this close to the fire. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t planning on drinking it.
Throwing open the heavy door, I braced a hand on the steering wheel and slid off the seat, making sure to land on my good leg. I didn’t bother with my cane. There was no need for pretense.
Not here.
As I waded into the dried brush, “Blackbird” blared from my phone’s speaker. Tori. I’d lost track of how many times she’d called.
And yeah, I got it. She was concerned.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, we’d been on stage at Zilker Park, capping off the biggest rock festival Austin had ever seen. A Damaged reunion. One last hurrah for the fans. And closure for Tori and me.
Finally.
Except…nothing felt closed.
And as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t talk to Tori about it. Not now. She’d finally moved on from her grief. Fallen in love again. And in some strange way, that had brought us back together.
After the accident, we’d drifted apart. And that was a good thing. Something we’d needed to do. Because when we had been together, sharing the same space, it was like the sum of our losses was too big. All-consuming.
Knowing that Tori was out there in the world with a heart as heavy as mine had made my own burden a little easier to bear.

But now I felt the weight of it more acutely than I had in years. A fact I was determined to hide. So, I’d been avoiding her calls.
Reaching the far end of the field, I eased onto the soft ground beneath the burned-out shell of the elm tree where I’d found Rhenn and lost him minutes later.
“Hey, buddy. Guess you know about that gig last night.” My voice fell to a whisper, and I looked down. “Of course you do.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I blew out a staggered breath and pulled the whiskey from my pocket. “It was weird, you know, not having y’all there to celebrate. So I thought I’d bring the celebration to you.”
Twisting off the cap with shaky fingers, I fought the urge to bring the bottle to my lips.
One drink. What could it hurt?
As I pondered throwing away years of sobriety, a gust of wind blew across the field, kicking up topsoil and dust.
Chuckling, I rubbed the sand out of my eyes. “Message received. You don’t have to get all testy about it.”
I wasn’t an alcoholic. Or a drug addict. But booze was still a slippery slope. A year after the crash, I’d landed in rehab from an “accidental” overdose that wasn’t an accident at all. It only took the counselor a week to get to the root of my real problem. Soul-crushing depression—the clinical kind.
They’d fixed me up with medication that kept the dark clouds at bay. Mostly. But I never told anyone about my diagnosis. Somehow it was easier to let people believe I was a drunk.
With a sigh, I turned the bottle upside down. “Miss you, bro.” After the last drop of liquor soaked into the hallowed ground, I hauled to my feet. “See you on the other side.” Taking a last look around, I stopped breathing when I spotted a little patch of wildflowers some twenty yards away. Most of the blossoms had wilted on the stems. But a few buds remained.
Red, like Paige’s hair.
After all this time, I’d found her.
My feet moved swiftly with little protest from my bad leg. Brushing a hand over the velvety soft petals, tears spilled onto my cheeks, surprising me. Because I’d never cried for Paige. She didn’t visit me in my dreams. And I couldn’t see her face when I closed my eyes.
That was my penance. The price I’d paid for rejecting her that final night. But she was here with me now. Her scent on the breeze, and her warmth on my skin. And she gave me the one thing I’d been searching for, even if I didn’t deserve it.
Forgiveness.

About the Author . . .

I grew up in California with a dream of moving to Seattle to become a rock star.

But when the grunge thing didn’t work out (I never even made it to the Washington border) I set my sights on Austin, Texas.

After quickly becoming immersed in the Sixth Street Music scene…and discovering I couldn’t actually sing, I decided to do the next best thing—write kick ass romances about hot rockstars and the women that steal their hearts.

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