Tuesday, January 31, 2017

#GiveAway - Triple Love Score by Brandi Megan Granett

Triple Love Score
by Brandi Megan Granett

Brandi will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Please remember that you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here 


Miranda Shane lives a quiet life among books and letters as a professor in a small upstate town. When the playing-by-the-rules poet throws out convention and begins to use a Scrabble board instead of paper to write, she sets off a chain of events that rattles her carefully planned world.

Her awakening propels her to take risks and seize chances she previously let slip by, including a game-changing offer from the man she let slip away. But when the revelation of an affair with a graduate student threatens the new life Miranda created, she is forced to decide between love or poetry.

GENRE: Contemporary Romance

Purchase Links:

“You sure you don’t want to take a cab?” Scott asked her.

“I’m sure. Then we wouldn’t see the diamonds,” Lynn said.

“Tiffany’s?” Miranda asked. “You’re a little young for that aren’t you? Though you are Bunny’s granddaughter.”

“Not like Grandma Bunny’s diamonds! The diamonds on the sidewalk. Look!”

Sure enough, the concrete in front of them sparkled. Four or five runs of sidewalk shimmered with mica flecks, then it went to plain for a block or two, then more that sparkled.

“I want to know what makes them different,” Miranda said to Scott, pointing at the abrupt change from sparkle to non-sparkle on the sidewalk in front of them.

“But knowing the difference would ruin it,” Scott said.

“You’d rather think it was magic?”

“I like the idea of magic. Don’t you?” he asked.

“I don’t take much stock in that,” Miranda said.

“Daddy, look!” Lynn said.

And there in front of them was a huge elephant balloon with a circus ball balancing on his trunk. The ball wasn’t all the way inflated yet; it wobbled a little and the sides of the elephant shuddered some as the helium pumped in. But an elephant as tall as a house at Central Park was a sight to behold no matter the size or amount of helium left to go.  The crowd around them seemed to holding their breath in anticipation as the ball slowly rose.

“See,” Miranda said, “to people watching on television that's magic. But it’s not magic. It’s a year of planning and then people working all night on the day before a family holiday to pull it off.”

“But it’s magic to her,” Scott said.

Lynn strained at the barricade, craning her neck to see down the street and the rest of the balloons staged there.

“Sure, it’s magic to her. She’s a kid. Kids have to believe in magic. When you really grow up, it’s different.”

“I guess I’m not really grown up then,” Scott said. “And maybe I don’t want to be.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Brandi Megan Granett is an author, online English professor, and private writing mentor. She holds a PhD in Creative Writing from Aberystwyth University, Wales, an MFA in Fiction from Sarah Lawrence College, a Masters in Adult Education with an emphasis on Distance Education from Penn State University, and a BA from the University of Florida.

Granett is the author of My Intended (William Morrow, 2000). Her short fiction has appeared in Pebble Lake Review, Folio, Pleiades and other literary magazines, and is collected in the volume Cars and Other Things That Get Around.

In addition, she writes an author interview series for the Huffington Post, and is a member of the Tall Poppy Writers, a community of writing professionals committed to growing relationships, promoting the work of its members, and connecting authors with each other and with readers.

When Granett is not writing or teaching or mothering, she is honing her archery skills. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, daughter and two dogs.

Author Social Media Links:

Website:         www.brandigranett.com/
Facebook:       Brandi Megan Granett, Author
Twitter:            @brandigranett
Instagram:       @mrsgranett
Goodreads:     Brandi Megan Granett


Series: Firefly Lake, #1
By Jen Gilroy

In the tradition of New York Times bestselling authors Susan Wiggs and RaeAnne Thayne comes an emotional second chance love story about redemption and finding your way home, the first in a new series by debut author Jen Gilroy.

Some mistakes can never be fixed and some secrets never forgiven . . . but some loves can never be forgotten.

Charlotte Gibbs wants nothing more than to put the past behind her, once and for all. But now that she's back at Firefly Lake to sell her mother's cottage, the overwhelming flood of memories reminds her of what she's been missing. Sun-drenched days. Late-night kisses that still shake her to the core. The gentle breeze off the lake, the scent of pine in the air, and the promise of Sean's touch on her skin . . . True, she got her dream job traveling the world. But at what cost?

Sean Carmichael still doesn't know why Charlie disappeared that summer, but after eighteen years, a divorce, and a teenage son he loves more than anything in the world, he's still not over her. All this time and her body still fits against his like a glove. She walked away once when he needed her the most. How can he convince her to stay now?

On Sale: January 31, 2017
Publisher: Forever
Mass Market: $5.99 USD
eBook: $5.99 USD



“Do you still want to sell the cottage?” He took a shallow breath and leaned forward. Which was a mistake because now he was in touching and tasting distance of her.
“Of course.” Charlie looked down, but not before Sean caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “But my mom loved Firefly Lake. Maybe we can come up with a better option, one that won’t change everything she loved. What do you think?”
Sean’s breathing sped up. By working with her and Mia, he might be able to protect Carmichael’s. Protect his family, his community, and his way of life. But he’d also have to spend more time with Charlie. “I guess I could talk to the chamber of commerce and the Rotary Club.”
“You’re president of the Firefly Lake Rotary Club.” Charlie’s eyes twinkled. “I saw a picture in Nick’s office of the two of you at some Rotary dinner. You have influence.”
“Maybe I do, but why should I use it to help you and your sister?”
“This isn’t about helping us. It’s about Carmichael’s and Firefly Lake, and this whole special area.” Her eyes were wise, seeing through him like always. Seeing what mattered to him.
“I’ll think about it.” His gaze locked with hers and something sizzled between them. The heat that had always been there—but had deepened because they weren’t the kids they’d been.
“We don’t have anything against you.” She took a business card from the holder on the desk and traced the letters of his name. “But Mia. . . she’s dealing with . . .some stuff . . . She’s the only family I’ve got.”
Sean knew all about family loyalty. How it could suffocate you and force you into choices you didn’t want to make. “What kind of stuff?”
“I can’t . . . ” She swallowed, and a pulse worked in her jaw. “A Tat Chee development would hurt a lot of people. Mom wouldn’t have wanted something that hurt people who were her friends. Hurt the place she never forgot. Mia and I don’t want that either.”
“It has nothing to do with you and me?” Sean looked into her face, the girl he’d loved still there beneath the woman she’d become.
“Of course not.” Charlie’s voice trembled.
“Deny it all you want, but we’re still hooked together.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Beyond trying to get it out of our systems, I don’t know what the hell we can do about it.”
Charlie came around the desk. She licked her lips and his body leaped. “Even if there is still something between us, we can’t do anything about it.”
“Starting something again would be a bad idea.” Sean pushed the words out, over the tightness in his chest.
“A very bad idea.” Her voice was a sensual caress.
“What if we can’t help it?” He stood and shoved the chair away, sending it crashing into the wall to overturn. He reached for her, and the shock of her warm, bare skin jolted through him.
“I shouldn’t . . . ” But even as she spoke, she leaned into him, soft, like the Charlie he remembered. Her head fit into the curve of his shoulder like it belonged there.
 “Me neither.” He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against her neck, peaches and her scent greeting him. The one he could have picked out blindfolded even after all these years.
“Your mom told me to stay away from you.” She angled her neck toward his mouth.
“I told her to butt out.” He licked the sensitive cord in her neck, and she gasped.
“You did?” She whimpered as he intensified the caress.
He drew back. “You and me, we’re none of her business.”
“There isn’t a you and me. There can’t be. I’m only here for just over two more weeks.” Her words came out in a breathy moan. “Whatever this is, it can’t go anywhere. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Her small hands were gentle on his forearms. That gentleness was a side of her she didn’t let many people see.
“I know the rules.” He pulled her close again...



Jen Gilroy grew up under the big sky of western Canada. After many years in England, she now lives in a small town in eastern Ontario where her Irish ancestors settled in the nineteenth century. She's worked in higher education and international marketing but, after spending too much time in airports and away from her family, traded the 9-5 to write contemporary romance to bring readers' hearts home.

A small-town girl at heart, Jen likes ice cream, diners, vintage style and all things country. Her husband, Tech Guy, is her real-life romance hero, and her daughter, English Rose, teaches her to cherish the blessings in the everyday.


#Review - The Cottage at Firefly Lake by Jen Gilroy

The Cottage at Firefly Lake by [Gilroy, Jen]The Cottage at Firefly Lake is Jen Gilroy's debut book and the first in a promising new series. I can't wait to see what this talented new author has in store for us lucky readers. I know I certainly enjoyed this book and I can't wait to see what she comes up with next.

The Cottage at Firefly Lake contains all the great things that makes for an awesome read. There is romance, family relationships,past secrets, and a nice amount of drama to keep those pages flipping.

Charlotte Gibbs has lead an exciting life on the road in all types of conditions reporting the news as she lives it. Charlotte returns to Firefly Lake with her sister and family. Charlotte has been side lined by an injury and it's time to handle the final details of their mother's estate. Firefly Lake brings back memories of love and loss for Charlotte. I bonded quickly with Charlie. She a smart, independent lady that loves her family. She's been a bit of an absentee sister and Auntie with all her travels. She's making up for it with quality time at the cottage. 

Sean Carmichael is running the family business in Firefly Lake and raising a teenage son. Charlie and Sean were each other's first love. When Charlie left town years ago she broke Sean's heart. He's tried to move on but just hasn't found the love he had with Charlie. Sean loves his family and is always there for them. He comes from a very close knit family and they all share in the duties of running Carmichael's. 

The sparks from their teenage years are still there for both Charlie and Sean. Their love is still there so many years later but there is also distrust and misunderstanding of what and why things went wrong in the past. There are plenty of secrets from the past that could easily rip apart what might be a second chance at first love. 

I enjoyed watching Charlie and Sean get to know each other again and the emotions they experienced with each unveiling. The questions of who is going to buy the Gibb's cottage also adds in some drama. There is drama with Charlie's sister Mia that gives the sisters an extra push to regain that childhood closeness. I love when there is family interaction in a story. It just adds a little more dimension to the characters and explains more about their personalities and pasts.

Overall I truly enjoyed this debut book by Jen Gilroy. Her writing style was easy to read, the characters are well formed, and the story line kept my attention from the beginning to the end. I most certainly will be on the look for more books from Ms. Gilroy. 

I was given the opportunity to read this wonderful book by a great new author and it has been my pleasure to share my thoughts with you.

#GiveAway - ALMOST A BRIDE By Jo Watson

Series: Destination Love, #2
By Jo Watson


**Newly revised and expanded, Wattpad sensation Jo Watson's ALMOST A BRIDE is now available in print for the first time!**

That awkward moment you catch your boyfriend in bed with another woman and then mistakenly get arrested #chargesdropped

Annie knows life isn't always fair. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you get mistaken for a crazed intruder when you come home early and find your boyfriend wearing nipple clamps with a coworker on the night you thought he was going to propose to you.

The important thing is to move on, and for Annie that means treating herself to a tropical vacation. But when she runs into her ex and his new woman staying at the same resort, reason is washed out to sea. Caught off guard, Annie pretends she's with Chris, a cute screenwriter she meets on the beach. With his own writing blocked, Chris is happy to help Annie craft a story to save face. Soon Annie isn't just getting over her ex, she's getting under Chris. As her fictional feelings grow increasingly real, Annie has to decide if she's ready to risk her heart on a new relationship.

On Sale: January 31, 2017
Publisher: Forever
Trade Paperback: $14.99 USD
eBook: $4.99 USD


knew something was wrong the second I walked up to my front door.
Call it intuition. Call it a sixth sense. But I just knew.
I blame the shoes. The shoes were undoubtedly the cause of all the
problems that day. It was the shoes’ fault that I came home early, and
the shoes’ fault I was fired.
I suppose I can’t blame the shoes for making me late, though—
that was the alarm clock’s fault for rudely deciding not to do its job.
And when I finally realized, through the thick haze of sleepiness,
that it hadn’t gone off, it was too late. I was already late for work.
And when I say work, I mean my brand-new job—job of my
dreams—as a fashion assistant at Glamorous Girl mag.
I’d just made a total career change, leaving behind a successful job
as a stylist in advertising to pursue a job in the magazine industry. It
was early days, so I was still desperately trying to impress by being
perfect, polite, and oh so obliging. Whether it was the request for
the latte to be served at 97.7 degrees with no sugar, soy milk froth,
and a sprinkling of organic cocoa powder flown in directly from
the foothills of the Andes. Or whether it was for the jasmine-and-lavender-
scented candles to be burned in the office for exactly ten
minutes before my boss arrived—that was me.
Little Miss Annie Obliging.
Because let’s face it, the word assistant is just a glammed-up euphemism
for slave. But I was ambitious and determined, so when I
realized I wouldn’t be able to attend to the scented candles, or fetch
the latte, I panicked. So much so, that I left the house without the
said troublemaking, life-ruining, world-annihilating shoes.
Let’s take a moment to talk about the shoes. They weren’t
ordinary shoes, oh no, they were none other than the just-off-the-
Paris-catwalk-and-not-for-sale-to-mere-mortals-yet Christian Louboutins.
They also happened to be the centerpieces for that day’s
The same rushed panic that had caused me to forget the shoes in
the first place had also left me with barely enough time to scrape my
hair back into a casual bun and slip on a creased T-shirt and pair of
jeans from my floor.
The latter is a bigger sin than you think. Because where I
work, wearing anything other than the most fashionable apparel
is sacrilege. People practically throw holy water at you and start
wailing in Latin for fear that you’ve been possessed by the demon
of bad fashion. In fact, a real demon possession, complete with a
backward-rolling head and the ability to speak in tongues, would
be preferable to the demon of last season’s handbag and Crocs
So when I finally got to work, underdressed, out of breath, without
the shoes, and over an hour late, I was in serious trouble.
My boss was throwing a hissy fit, due to lack of flowery scents in
her office, and her personal assistant Cedric was in the throes of an
overly dramatic caffeine withdrawal, due to lack of latte.
And it kept getting worse.
Two hours later the panicky fashion director summoned the
Louboutins. Those shoes had been troublemakers from the start. It
had been an absolute trauma getting them in the first place. They’d
been flown into South Africa late the previous night, and I’d been
tasked with collecting them. Everyone was holding their collective
breath for the grand arrival. So when I was forced to confess to their
absence…well, you can only imagine.
When lunch finally arrived, I jumped into my car and sped home.
I had exactly one hour to get in and out before the photo shoot, more
than enough time.
I pulled into my driveway at breakneck speed, ran for the front
door, slipped my house keys into the lock, and turned—
Something made me stop.
Something told me not to go inside.
Something was very wrong.
I looked around nervously. Everything seemed normal. Peter
across the road was blasting his TV as usual, the ratbag Chihuahua
from number 45 was running up and down the garden perimeter
yapping at an unseen force, and Mildred, my neighbor, was outside
watering her hydrangeas.
So why was I hesitating?
I took a deep breath and inched the door open.
Nothing looked out of place.
Everything was exactly the way I’d left it.
Yet everything felt wrong.
I slunk down the hallway toward the kitchen, where I knew I’d
find the shoes perched next to the coffeepot. But once inside, I was
hit by a terribly eerie sensation…someone was in the house. A shiver
licked the length of my spine when my suspicions were confirmed.
Creeeeaaakkk…A noise was coming from my bedroom directly
above me.
Shit, shit, shit, there was an intruder in the house!
I launched myself at the cutlery drawer, grabbing the largest knife
I could find while simultaneously dialing the police and still managing
to hold on to the shoes for dear life.
“Police! Help, there’s an intruder in my house. Forty-Seven Mendelssohn
Road, Oaklands. Quick.”
Now what? I’d never been in a situation like this before. What
was the correct protocol? Should I hide, evacuate the house, attack
the intruder, scream loudly? Or perhaps a combination of the above?
I thought for a second before deciding to get the fuck out of there!
But just as I had one foot safely installed outside the front door, I
heard another noise. This time it was different. It was…
It sounded like…
My blood ran cold.
But it couldn’t be. Trevv was at work. Trevv had a very important
day in court, he told me. His client’s final hearing was today. Right
now, in fact. I’d called him from my office about an hour ago and
he’d told me he was in court.
He was in court, dammit!
I started climbing the stairs.
More noises.
Two voices?
But that was impossible…wasn’t it?
The noises grew louder and louder the farther up the stairs I
went. I’m not really sure at what point I knew what the noises were
or knew what I was going to see when I opened the door. But I just
It’s one thing walking in on your boyfriend having sex with another
woman, but it’s another thing entirely walking in on him the
second the other woman is coming. She was facing the door but was
bouncing up and down so vigorously that her face was a blur. And
then suddenly her body stiffened, she threw her head back, opened
her mouth, and let out a high-pitched wail. As if that wasn’t self explanatory
enough, she decided to toss in a few words for good
“Yes, Trevvy, yes. Oh my God, oh my God, oh Trevvy. Harder!
Ah, ah, ah.” *Pant, pant, pant* “I’m coming!” *Long high-pitched
Now…there were several things wrong with this picture, aside
from the obvious. Firstly, who the hell screams like that in bed? No
one does! Sex is not so good that you have to break the sound barrier
with your squealing dolphin sounds. Secondly, what the hell was
she wearing? She was clad in some kind of leathery studded number
that looked like it had been worn by one of the Village People. And
to make matters worse, Trevv was blindfolded with the tie that I had
bought him two Christmases ago and…OH MY GOD…were those,
were those…nipple clamps?
I felt sick to my stomach.
And thirdly, who was this mystery woman without an ounce of cellulite,
without the slightest smidge of fat, and with boobs that seemed
to defy all known natural laws of gravity and motion? Which
woman can be that damn perfect…
…and then her features came into focus and the answer dawned
on me.
Tess Blackman.
My boyfriend’s “coworker.” The woman I’d invited into
my home on several occasions for dinner. The woman that I always
phoned when I couldn’t get hold of Trevv, because I knew they
were probably together working on a case, tired and exhausted and
burning the midnight oil when they’d rather be at home with their
significant others. She had a fiancé after all.
Poor overworked Trevv and Tess.
God, I was naive.
But the show didn’t end there. Tess’s eyes were still closed when
Trevv started making some delightful grunting-moaning-squeaking
sounds. He’d never made sounds like that with me before. His sweaty
hands reached up and grabbed at her hungrily.
Loud, long moan.
I was frozen. It’s hard to know what to do when you watch your
partner of two years with his penis somewhere you wouldn’t even
like to imagine, let alone witness in full blinding daylight.
Once all their postcoital panting had tapered off, Tess opened her
eyes and saw me standing in the doorway. The look on her face was
indescribable. Shock and horror and fear all at the same time. And
then she opened her mouth and screamed.
Trevv then turned his head toward the door and whipped off his
blindfold. Our eyes locked and then he did something truly bizarre.
Unexpected. He grabbed Tess by the hand and dragged her to the
other side of the bed.
“Anne, please…you don’t want to do this.” Trevv threw his hands
in the air defensively. He looked terrified. She was bleating hysterically
by this stage.
What was going on? Wasn’t I the jilted one? Wasn’t I the one
that was supposed to be upset? I started walking toward them, which
seemed to only make matters worse.
“Anne, please. Please.” He seemed to be begging now. “Think
about what you’re doing. I know this is bad, but this isn’t the way to
handle it. Please don’t do this.”
Things happened pretty quickly after that. Suddenly, the room
was filled with armed police officers. I was about to tell them they
could all go home, when Trevv cut me off.
“She has a knife. She’s going to kill us!” he shouted, pointing at me.
What knife? I glanced at my hands, and that’s when I realized I
was still holding the large knife, and it was pointed in their direction.
I quickly turned to explain. “I wasn’t going to—”
“Ma’am…” One of the police officers cut me off and started creeping
toward me as if I was a feral pit bull that hadn’t eaten in a week.
“Put down your weapon.”
“I swear, this isn’t what you think, I was just trying to—”
BAM! Face on floor, handcuffs around wrists.
Three really painful things happened at that point: One, the knife
slipped and cut the entire length of my palm. Two, some of my
newly acquired, gorgeous nails snapped off. And three, the crystal-encrusted,
six-inch heel of the priceless Louboutin snapped off,
rolled across the floor lifelessly, and disappeared under the bed.



Jo Watson is an award-winning writer of romantic comedies. Burning Moon won a Watty Award in 2014. Jo is an Adidas addict and a Depeche Mode devotee.