Thursday, 31 May 2018



#NewRelease → Ruthless (Sins of Seven) by Dani RenΓ© Author is available now
Amazon ➜ https://amzn.to/2sae0v4
iBooks ➜ https://apple.co/2JcxDNA
Kobo ➜ http://bit.ly/2krbNIw
Google Play ➜ https://goo.gl/WtaSLh
B&N ➜ http://bit.ly/2s8VlzW

Add to Goodreads → http://bit.ly/2H4lW7F

πŸ™πŸ»Early ReviewsπŸ™πŸ»
“Callan o'leary is a man that exudes dominance and unyielding attributes...you'll be begging for more!”
- Allyson, Up All Night With Books

“Callan is a total alpha male who does what he pleases and takes no prisoners.”
- Joy, Goodreads Reviewer

“totally addictive and totally worthy of 5 stars...”
- Sheena, Goodreads Reviewer

“This has got to be RenΓ©'s best work yet.”
- Cat, The Reading Cat

πŸ“šBlurbπŸ“š
I’m an asshole.
And I make no apologies for it.
My life has been spent drenched in the blood of my enemies.
Our family legacy, left only to me when my brother walked away.
Women are pawns in a game for pleasure. Nothing more.
Until her. Madison Parker.
I’m enthralled. Captivated.
But my past is far too dark.
Pushing her away is my only option.
Yet her stubborn, sassy mouth and beautiful eyes weaken me.
I save her as much as she saves me.
Then blood is spilled once more, and I’ll forever live with the guilt.
Can light find its way through my darkness?
Can she truly be the salvation for this ruthless heart?

#InTheSeries #OneClick
Kneel (Sins of Seven #1)
Whisper (Sins of Seven #2) - Available on #KU
Indulge (Sins of Seven #3) - Available on #KU
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2GGlFe5
iBooks: https://apple.co/2GNWaay
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2GJFH7f
B&N: http://bit.ly/2GISBlW
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2GJdm0Y

MY REVIEW

Ruthless is book four in the Sins of Seven series. This can be read as a standalone but don’t do it. Seriously this is a fantastic series so I highly recommend you read them all and in order. 

Callan and Madison are two complex characters. They two broken characters from completely different backgrounds. 

I’m in awe of this author. Yet again she has written a story that has me saying it’s my favourite of hers to date. She has a superb way with words. Once I start one of her books I can’t tell but read in one sitting. 

This is an amazing read. I’m so looking forward to reading more from this author. 
P.s. I may be biased but I love the name Callan :)

#RuthlessRelease #DaniRene #SinsOfSeven


Hosted by Enticing Journey Book Promotions

Wednesday, 30 May 2018



NEW RELEASE

Faceless blurb

After surviving a vicious knife attack, which left her husband dead, DI Rosalind Kray returns to work and is handed a serial killer investigation.

This killer is different, he doesn’t just want to take the lives of his victims, he wants to obliterate their very existence. The murders appear random but the killer selects his quarry with meticulous care.

While fighting her superiors Kray must conquer her own demons, which are tearing her apart.

Kray has the ability to think like a killer and her skills lead to a series of horrifying revelations that turn the case on its head. She believes she is getting close, then her world comes crashing down with devastating consequences.

Will Kray find the murderer and escape with her own life in tact?

The truth is closer than she could have ever imagined…

MY REVIEW

This is my first read by this author and after reading this I know it won’t be my last as this was a great read. 

DI Rosalind Kray has returned to work after a tragedy in her personal life. She throws everything she’s got into finding a serial killer. DI Kray is a flawed character and I was so backing her all the way. 

This is a really well written police procedural story. I thought the author was very descriptive and I thoroughly enjoyed it. 
I’ll definitely be reading more from this author in the future. Loved it.

Buy links



Author Bio:


Rob is married to Karen with two grown up daughters. He is originally from South Wales and after moving around with work settled in North Lincolnshire where he’s spent the last twenty-two years.
Like all good welsh valley boys Rob worked for the National Coal Board after leaving school at sixteen and went to University at the tender age of twenty-three when the pit closures began to bite. Since then he’s worked in a variety of manufacturing and consulting roles both in the UK and abroad.
It took Rob twenty-four years to write his first book. He only became serious about writing it when his dad got cancer. It was an aggressive illness and Rob gave up work for three months to look after him and his mum. Writing Those That Remain became his coping mechanism. After he wrote the book his family encouraged him to continue, so not being one for half measures, Rob got himself made redundant, went self-employed so he could devote more time to writing and four years later the Mechanic Trilogy is the result.
When he is not writing, Rob is a frustrated chef with a liking for beer and prosecco, and is known for occasional outbreaks of dancing.
Rob published the Mechanic Trilogy with Bloodhound Books in 2017 and will be releasing three new books during 2018. These are titled: Faceless, This Little Piggy and Suspended Retribution.

Links:

Twitter: @RobAshmanAuthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Rob-Ashman-Author-1428800800468097/

Website: http://robashman.com/

πŸ’—πŸ’œπŸ§‘πŸ’š A WISH FOR US πŸ’—πŸ’œπŸ§‘πŸ’š
πŸ’—πŸ’œπŸ§‘πŸ’š #ChapterReveal πŸ’—πŸ’œπŸ§‘πŸ’š

Scroll down to read Chapter 1 in full!!!

#PreOrder NOW | AVAILABLE #June11

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➤ Nook | bit.ly/2jo8Rvp
➤ Kobo | bit.ly/2HMVpvR

➤ Add to Goodreads | bit.ly/2HMRoaP

***

CHAPTER 1

Cromwell
Brighton, England
The club pulsed as the beat I was pouring into the crowd took over their bodies. Arms in the air, hips swaying, eyes wide and glazed as my music slammed into their ears, the rhythmic beats controlling their every move. The air was thick and sticky, clothes slick to people’s skins as they crammed into the full club to hear me.
I watched them light up with color. Watched them get lost to the sound. Watched them shed whoever they’d been that day—an office worker, a student, a copper, a call-center worker—what the hell ever. Right now, in this club, most probably high off their faces, they were slaves to my tunes. Right here, in this moment, my music was their life. It was all that mattered as their heads flew back and they chased the high, the near nirvana I gave them from my place on the podium.
I, however, felt nothing. Nothing but the numbness the booze beside me was gifting me.
Two arms slipped around my waist. Hot breath blew past my ear as full lips kissed my neck. Spinning my final beat, I grabbed the Jack Daniels beside me and took a shot straight from the bottle. I slammed the bottle down and moved back to my laptop to mix in the next tune. Hands with sharp fingernails ran through my hair, pulling on the black strands. I tapped on the keys, bringing the music down low, slowing the beat.
My breaths lengthened as the crowd waited, lungs frozen as I brought them to a slow sway, readying for the crescendo. The epic surge of beats and drums, the insanity of the mix that I would deliver. I looked up from my laptop and scanned the crowd, smirking at seeing them on the precipice, waiting . . . waiting . . . just waiting . . .
Now.
I slammed my hand down, holding my headphones to my left ear. A surge, a thundercloud of electronic dance music plowed into the crowd. Bursts of neon colors filled the air. Greens and blues and reds filled my eyes as they clung to each person like neon shields.
The hands around my waist tightened, but I ignored them, instead listening to the bottle of Jack as it called my name. I took another shot, my muscles starting to loosen. My hands danced over the laptop’s keys, over my mix boards.
I looked up, the crowd still in the palm of my hand.
They always were.
A girl in the center of the club drew my attention. Long brown hair pulled back off her face. Purple dress, high necked—she was dressed nothing like everyone else. The color surrounding her was different to the other clubbers—pale pink and lavender. Calmer. More serene. My eyebrows pulled down as I watched her. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t moving. She was still, and she looked to be completely alone as people crashed and pushed around her. Her head was tipped up, a look of concentration on her face.
I built up the pace, pushing the rhythm and the crowd as far as they could go. But the girl didn’t move. That wasn’t normal for me. I always had these clubbers wrapped around my finger. I controlled them, in every place I spun. In this arena, I was the puppet master. They were the dolls.
Another shot of Jack burned down my throat. And through another five songs, she stayed there, on the spot, just drinking in the beats like water. But her face never changed. No smile. No euphoric high. Just . . . eyes closed, that damn pinched look on her face.
And that pink and lavender still surrounding her like a shield.
“Cromwell,” the blonde who was all over me like a rash said into my ear. Her fingers lifted up my shirt and tucked into the waistband of my jeans. Her long nails dipped low. But I refused to tear my eyes away from the girl in the purple dress.
Her brown hair was starting to curl, sweat from being sandwiched by clubbers taking its effect. The blonde who was one step from wanking me off in full view of the club snapped my fly. I keyed in my next mix, then grabbed her hand and threw it away from me, snapping my fly closed. I groaned when her hands slid back into my hair. I looked at my mate who had spun before me. “Nick!” I pointed to my decks. “Watch this. And don’t mess it up.”
Nick frowned in confusion, then saw the girl behind me and smiled. He took my headphones from me and moved to make sure the playlist I’d set up played on cue. Steve, the club’s owner, always let a few girls backstage. I never asked for it, but I never turned them down either. Why would I refuse a hot bird who was up for anything?
I swiped my Jack off my podium as the blonde smashed her lips to mine, pulling me back by my sleeveless Creamfields shirt. I wrenched my mouth from hers, replacing it with the Jack bottle. The blonde dragged me into a dark spot backstage. She dropped to her knees and started again on my fly. I closed my eyes as she went to work.
I sucked on the Jack as my head hit the wall behind me. I forced myself to feel something. I glanced down, watching blond hair bounce below me. But the numbness I lived with every damn day made me feel virtually nothing inside. Pressure built at the base of my spine. My thighs tightened, and then it was over.
The blonde got up. I could see the stars in her eyes as she looked at me. “Your eyes.” She reached out a finger to trace around my eye. “The strangest color. Such dark blue.”
They were. Coupled with my black hair, they always drew attention. That and the fact that I was one of the hottest new DJs in Europe, of course. Okay, maybe it was less to do with my eyes and more to do with my name, Cromwell Dean, gracing the headline spot on most of the biggest music festivals and clubs this summer.
I zipped up my fly and turned to see Nick spinning my next mix. I cringed when he failed to transition the beats like I would have. Navy blue was the backdrop to the smoke on the dancefloor.
I never hit navy blue.
I brushed past the girl with a “Thanks, love,” ignoring her hiss of “Prick” in response. I took my headphones off Nick’s head and put them on my own. A few taps of the keyboard later, the crowd was back in the palm of my hand.
Without conscious thought, my eyes found their way to the spot where the girl in the purple dress had stood.
But she’d gone. So had the pale pink and lavender.
I threw back another shot of Jack. Mixed another tune. Then zoned the fuck out.
*****
The sand was cold under my feet. It may well have been the start of summer here in the UK, but that didn’t mean the night wind didn’t freeze your balls off the minute you stepped outside. Clutching my bottle of booze and my cigarettes, I dropped down to the sand. I lit up and stared at the dark sky. My phone buzzed in my pocket . . . again. It’d been going off all night.
Pissed off that I actually had to move my arm, I pulled out my mobile. I had three missed calls from Professor Lewis. Two from my mum, and finally, a couple of texts.
Mum: Professor Lewis has been trying to get hold of you again. What are you going to do? Please just call me. I know you’re upset, but this is your future. You have a gift, son. Maybe it’s time for a fresh start this year. Don’t waste it because you’re angry at me.
Red-hot fury shot through me. I wanted to throw my phone in the damn sea and watch it sink to the bottom along with all this messed-up shit in my head, but I saw Professor Lewis had texted too.
Lewis: The offer still stands but I need an answer by next week. I have all I need for the transfer except your answer. You have an exceptional talent, Cromwell. Don’t waste it. I can help.
This time I did drop my phone beside me and sank back into the sand. I let the rush of nicotine fill my lungs and closed my eyes. As my eyelids shut, I heard quiet music playing somewhere nearby. Classical. Mozart.
My drunken mind immediately drifted off to when I was a little kid . . .
“What do you hear, Cromwell?” my father asked.
I closed my eyes and listened to the piece of music. Colors danced before my eyes. “Piano. Violins. Cellos . . .” I took a deep breath. “I can hear reds and greens and pinks.”
I opened my eyes and looked up at my father as he sat on my bed. He was staring down at me. There was a funny expression on his face. “You hear colors?” he said. But he didn’t sound surprised. My face set on fire. I ducked my head under my duvet. My father pulled it down from my eyes. He stroked my hair. “That’s good,” he said, his voice kind of deep. “That’s very good . . .”
My eyes snapped open. My hand started to ache. I looked at the bottle in my hand; my fingers were white as they gripped the neck. I sat up, my head spinning from the mass of whiskey in my body. My temples throbbed. I realized it wasn’t from the Jack, but from the music coming from further down the beach. I pushed my hair back from my face then looked to my right.
Someone was only a few feet away. I squinted into the lightening night, summer’s early rising sun making it possible to make out the features of whoever the hell it was. It was a girl. A girl wrapped in a blanket. Her phone sat beside her, a Mozart piano concerto drifting quietly from the speaker.
She must have felt me looking at her, because she turned her head. I frowned, wondering why I knew her face, but then—
“You’re the DJ,” she said.
Recognition dawned. It was the girl in the purple dress.
She clutched her blanket closer around her as I replayed her accent in my head. American. Bible Belt was my guess, by her thick twang.
She sounded like my mum.
A smile tugged at her lips as I stayed mute. I wasn’t much of a talker. Especially when my gut was full of Jack and I had zero interest in making small talk with some girl I didn’t know at four in the morning on a cold beach in Brighton.
“I’d heard of you,” she said. I stared back out over the sea. Ships sailed in the distance, their lights like tiny fireflies, bobbing up and down. I huffed a humorless laugh. Great. Another girl who wanted to screw the DJ.
“Good for you,” I muttered and took a drink of my Jack, feeling the addictive burn slide down my throat. I hoped she’d piss off, or at least stop trying to talk to me. My head couldn’t take any more noise.
“Not really,” she shot back. I looked over at her, eyebrows pulled down in confusion. She was looking out over the sea, her chin resting on her folded arms that lay over her bent knees. The blanket had fallen off her shoulders, revealing the purple dress I’d noticed from the podium. She turned to face me, cheek now on her arms. Heat zipped through me. She was pretty. “I’ve heard of you, Cromwell Dean.” She shrugged. “Decided to get a ticket to see you before I left for home tomorrow.”
I lit up another cigarette. Her nose wrinkled. She clearly didn’t like the smell.
Tough luck. She could move. Last time I checked, England was a free country. She went quiet.
I caught her looking at me. Her brown eyes were narrowed, like she was scrutinizing me. Reading something in me that I didn’t want anyone to see.
No one ever looked at me closely. I never gave them the chance. I thrived on the podium at clubs because it kept everyone far away, down on the dancefloor where no one ever saw the real me. The way she was looking at me now made nervous shivers break out over my skin.
I didn’t need this kind of crap.
“Already had my dick sucked tonight, love. Not looking for a second round.”
She blinked, and even in the rising sun, I could see her cheeks redden.
“Your music has no soul,” she blurted. My cigarette paused halfway to my mouth. Something managed to stab through my stomach at her words. I shoved it back down until I felt my usual sensation of numbness.
I sucked on my cigarette. “Yeah? Well, them’s the breaks.”
“I’d heard you were some messiah or something on that podium. But all your music comprised was synthetic beats and forced repetitive bursts of unoriginal tempo.”
I laughed and shook my head. The girl met my eyes head-on. “It’s called electronic dance music. Not a fifty-piece orchestra.” I held out my arms. “You’ve heard of me. Said so yourself. You know what tunes I spin. What were you expecting? Mozart?” I glared at her phone, which was still playing that damn concerto.
I sat back, surprised at myself. I hadn’t talked that much to anyone in . . . I didn’t know how long. I took in a drag, breathing out the smoke that was trapped in my chest. “And turn that thing off, will you? Who the hell goes to hear a dance DJ spin, then comes to a beach to listen to classical music?”
The girl frowned but turned off the music. I lay back on the cold sand, closing my eyes. I heard the soft waves lapping the shore. My head filled with pale green. I heard the girl moving. I prayed she was leaving. But I felt her drop beside me. My world darkened as the whiskey and the usual lack of sleep started to pull me under.
“What do you feel when you mix your music?” she asked. How the hell she thought her little interview was a good idea right now was beyond me.
Yet, surprisingly, I found myself answering her question. “I don’t feel.” I cracked one eye open when she didn’t say anything. She was looking down at me. She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Dark hair pulled off her face in a ponytail. Full lips and smooth skin.
“Then that’s the problem.” She smiled, but the smile looked nothing but sad. Pitying. “The best music must be felt. By the creator. By the listener. Every part of it from creation to ear must be wrapped in nothing but feelings.” Some weird expression crossed over her face, but hell if I knew what it meant.
Her words were a blade to my chest. I hadn’t expected her harsh comment. And I hadn’t expected the blunt trauma that she seemed to deliver right to my heart. Like she’d taken a butcher’s knife and sliced her way through my soul.
My body itched to get up and run. To pluck out her assessment of my music from my memory. But instead I forced a laugh, and spat, “Go back home, little Dorothy. Back to where music means something. Where it’s felt.”
“Dorothy was from Kansas.” She glanced away. “I’m not.”
“Then go back to wherever the hell you’re from,” I snapped. Crossing my arms over my chest, I hunkered down into the sand and shut my eyes, trying to block out the cold wind that was picking up and slapping my skin, and her words that were still stabbing at my heart.
I never let anything get to me like this. Not anymore. I just needed some sleep. I didn’t want to go back to my mum’s house here in Brighton, and my flat in London was too far away. So hopefully the cops wouldn’t find me here and kick me off the beach.
With my eyes closed, I said, “Thanks for the midnight critique, but as the fastest-rising DJ in Europe, with the best clubs in the world begging for me to spin at their decks—all at nineteen—I think I’ll ignore your extensive notes and just keep on living my sweet as fuck life.”
The girl sighed, but she didn’t say anything else.
The next thing I knew, the sun was burning its light into my eyes. I flinched when I opened them. The screech of swarming seagulls slammed into my head. I sat up, seeing an empty beach and the sun high in the sky. I ran my hands down my face and groaned at the hangover that was kicking in. My stomach growled, desperate for a full English breakfast with copious cups of black tea.
As I stood, something fell from my lap. A blanket lay on the sand at my feet. The blanket I’d seen beside the American girl in the purple dress.
The one she’d been wrapped in last night.
I picked it up, a light fragrance drifted into my nose. Sweet. Addictive. I glanced around me. The girl was gone.
She’d left her blanket. No. She’d covered me with it. “Your music has no soul.” A hard clenching feeling pulled in my stomach at the memory of her words. So I chased it away like I did anything that made me feel. Caging it deep inside.
Then I took my arse home.

***

PRE-ORDER:

➤ Amazon | smarturl.it/AWishForUs
➤ iBooks | smarturl.it/IBAWishForUs
➤ Nook | bit.ly/2jo8Rvp
➤ Kobo | bit.ly/2HMVpvR

➤ Add to Goodreads | bit.ly/2HMRoaP

Tuesday, 29 May 2018



NEW RELEASE

If Fear Wins blurb

When a torched body is found in a country lane, DI Bliss and Chandler are called in to investigate.

The detectives are drawn towards recent missing person reports, and believe their victim will prove to be one of them. Bliss thinks he knows which, and fears the outcome if he is proven right.

Soon the body is identified, and Bliss and Chandler discover evidence suggesting this murder might be a terrorist attack.

Meanwhile, someone from Bliss’s past needs his help, and soon he is juggling his personal life with the demanding case. To make matters more complicated, MI5 and the Counter-Terrorist Unit are called in to help solve the case. But are they on the right track?

Bliss and Chandler soon find themselves in a race against time, and this might just be their most challenging case yet…

Buy links


MY REVIEW

This is book three in the DI Bliss series. The author has written this in such a way that it can be read as a standalone. In my opinion you gotta read them all and in order as I have loved reading them in order and follow Bliss and Chandler on their journey. 

This author certainly knows how to tell a story. He feeds us little nuggets of information throughout the story. He sucked me right in and even when I wasn’t reading about the story I was thinking about it. 

If Fear Wins has DI Bliss and Chandler on an Investigation when a body is found. Nothing is as easy as first thought. 
A face from the past asks Bliss for some help.

I love the relationship between Bliss and Chandler. They work so well together. We read of other characters we’ve met in the past as well as meet new characters. 

This is a well written police procedural read. I’m really looking forward to reading more from this author, hopefully soon.

BIO AND LINKS

BIO
Tony J Forder is the author of the critically acclaimed crime thriller series featuring detectives Jimmy Bliss and Penny Chandler. The first two books, Bad to the Bone and The Scent of Guilt, will be joined in the series on 29 May 2018 by If Fear Wins.

Tony’s dark, psychological crime thriller, Degrees of Darkness, featuring ex-detective Frank Rogers, was also published by Bloodhound Books. This was intended to be a stand-alone novel, but Tony is now considering the possibility of a follow-up.

One book that will definitely see a sequel is Scream Blue Murder. This was published in November 2017, and received praise from many, including fellow authors Mason Cross, Matt Hilton and Anita Waller.

Tony lives with his wife in Peterborough, UK.

Links
Website: https://www.tonyjforder.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tonyjforder/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TonyJForder @TonyJForder
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16166122.Tony_J_Forder
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/tony+j+forder?_requestid=248936

Bloodhound Books: http://www.bloodhoundbooks.com/tony-forder

Monday, 28 May 2018


BLOG TOUR

Synopsis

A woman's body is found in a lake. Is it a sad case of suicide or something more sinister? Hannah Weybridge, still reeling from her friend's horrific murder and the attempts on her own life, doesn't want to get involved, but reluctantly agrees to look into the matter for the family.

The past however still stalks her steps, and a hidden danger accompanies her every move.

The third in the bestselling Hannah Weybridge thriller series, Songs of Innocence provides Hannah with her toughest and deadliest assignment yet... 

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Songs-Innocence-thrilling-Hannah-Weybridge-ebook/dp/B07BY6RQS6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1525948400&sr=8-1&keywords=songs+of+innocence+anne+coates



Anne Coates
-
Author Info


Reading and writing has been Anne Coates’ passion for as long as she can remember. Instilled and inspired by her mother and by the Deputy Head at her secondary school who encouraged her hunger for reading by granting her free access to the books not yet in the school library, and she feels still grateful for this, in her eyes, amazing privilege.
After her degree in English and French, Anne moved to London to stay. During her career she worked for publishers, as a journalist, writer, editor, and translator. The birth of her daughter, Olivia inspired her to write non-fiction books, such as ‘Your Only Child’ (Bloomsbury, 1996), books about applying to and surviving university (NeedtoKnow, 2013), but also short stories, tales with a twist, and stories exploring relationships, published in two collections by Endeavour Press (2015).
The sometimes strange places Anne visited as a journalist often made her think “What if…” And so, investigative journalist Hannah Weybridge was born… The Hannah Weybridge series currently consists of three books, all published by Urbane Publications: ‘Dancers in the Wind’ (2016), ‘Death's Silent Judgement’ (2017), and ‘Songs of Innocence’ (2018).
Anne Coates lives in London with three demanding cats and enjoys reading, going to the theatre and cinema, wining and dining.
Where to find Anne Coates
Author Website: www.annecoatesauthor.com
FB Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AnneCoatesAuthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Anne_Coates1
Parenting Website – Twitter: https://twitter.com/ParentingWT

Twitter Links

@UrbaneBooks

@Anne_Coates1


#SongsofInnocence

Sunday, 20 May 2018



BLOG TOUR

Amanda Robson
Guilt
mail.jpeg
The shocking new thriller from the #1 bestseller
‘Thrilling, unputdownable, a fabulous rollercoaster of a read’ B A PARIS, bestselling author of BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

The number 1 bestseller is back!

Your sister. Her secret. The betrayal.

There is no bond greater than blood . . .

When the body of a woman is found stabbed to death, the blame falls to her twin sister. But who killed who? And which one is now the woman behind bars?

Zara and Miranda have always supported each other. But then Zara meets Seb, and everything changes. Handsome, charismatic and dangerous, Seb threatens to tear the sisters’ lives apart – but is he really the one to blame? Or are deeper resentments simmering beneath the surface that the sisters must face up to?

As the sisters’ relationship is stretched to the brink, a traumatic incident in Seb’s past begins to rear its head and soon all three are locked in a psychological battle that will leave someone dead. The question is, who?

Claustrophobic and compelling, Amanda Robson is back in a knock-out thriller perfect for fans of B.A. Paris and Paula Hawkins.

EXTRACT

When the train arrives at Weston-super-Mare no one helps me with my cameras, but I manage. I lump them together over my right shoulder and hobble off the train. As soon as I step off the train I am embraced by the flavour of the sea. The smell. The sweet, sharp, salty tang of the sea. The cry of the gulls. So high-pitched. So haunting.

 The taxi winds through the higgledy-piggledy streets behind the seafront. So far Weston-super-Mare looks to me as if Bath and Bristol have been shaken up together in a jar, and Weston has appeared as a mix-up of them both. I see a curved row of yellow sandstone town houses, very fine and balanced, very Georgian. I see line after line of Edwardian comfort, built in pale stone slabs with creamy sandstone window frames. Substantial and comfortable surrounded by the smell and taste of the sea.


 I arrive at my hotel, dump my bags, grab one small cine camera, and head straight for the seafront. Having allowed myself to fall in love with the architecture of Weston too quickly, the brutal architecture of the seafront disappoints me. It’s too Victorian. Ugly grandeur. Bold and unforgiving. Telling tales of another era, not accepting that life has moved on. Buildings with an artificiality about them. As if they are trying to pretend life was better then, when we now know that for many it was far worse. Fronted by the pier, a spiky contraption that spoils the sweep of the bay. It is so dark that as I walk away I can only see the outline of its monstrous bulk, shining between the street lamps. I step onto the beach, my back to the pier. Unencumbered by the sight of architectural ugliness, I move towards the sea. Black sea churning and heaving in the moonlight.

Friday, 18 May 2018



BLOG TOUR

Game Players blurb

When a gang of six children playing in their den in the woods spot a man burying drugs nearby, it marks the beginning of the end of their childhoods.

Unsure what to do, the children dig up the drugs and take them away. But when the dealer, who they watched bury the stash, shows up dead, the youngsters are thrown into turmoil.

Scared of what might happen, the children tell the police about the body they have discovered.

Meanwhile, a group of gangsters start searching for their missing drugs.

Soon the children and their families become the target of the vicious criminals who will stop at nothing to retrieve their narcotics…

πŸ’•πŸ’•MY REVIEWπŸ’•πŸ’•

When I was younger I loved reading The Famous Five and The Secret Seven. Game Player reminded me of these stories, but an adult version. 

I started this book one morning and ended up reading it in one sitting. I couldn’t put it down. It’s a captivating read about how one summer can change the lives of six children and their families. 

This is an engrossing read that I pretty much inhaled. I highly recommend this read and can’t wait to read more from this author.

Author Bio

Anita Waller was born in Sheffield, South Yorkshire in 1946. She married Dave in 1967 and they have three adult children.

She began writing when she was around 8 years of age, writing 'compositions' at junior school that became books with chapters.

In 1995 she sent Beautiful to a publisher and as they reached the contract stage the publisher went into liquidation. As a result, the book was consigned to the attic in dejected disgust but in 2013 it was dragged out again for an enforced complete re-type. The original was written on an Amstrad 8256 and the only thing that remained was one hard copy.

Anita is not a typist and it was painfully reworked over two years, submitted to Bloodhound Books who, within three days of reading it, offered her a contract. 31 August 2015 saw its release into the wide world.

Following the outstanding success of Beautiful, she began a sequel on 27 December 2015, finishing it on 19 March 2016. The new novel, Angel, was launched on 7 May 2016.

34 Days followed, with its launch in October 2016. This was a huge success, particularly in the United States. While this, her third book in the psychological thriller genre, was flying out in all directions, she began work on her fourth book.

Winterscroft was a change in genre. It is a supernatural tale, set in Castleton, Derbyshire, and its release date was February 2017.

While she was writing Winterscroft, it became very clear from reading reviews that a sequel to 34 days was needed, and she began work on that. Bloodhound Books launched Strategy, on 10 August 2017.

Her next book, launched February 2018 and entitled Captor, is a psychological thriller, set exclusively in Sheffield. It was an instant success, both in the UK and the US.

The along came Game Players… once more set in Sheffield, the story involves a group of six children who have each other’s backs to a remarkable extent. The darker, criminal side of Sheffield is explored, and the book launch is 18 May 2018.

In her life away from the computer in the corner of her kitchen, she is a Sheffield Wednesday supporter with blue blood in her veins! The club was particularly helpful during the writing of 34 Days, as a couple of matches feature in the novel, along with Ross Wallace. Information was needed, and they provided it.

Her genre is murder - necessary murder.


Links:


Amazon page:   https://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=anita+waller
Facebook page:  @anitawaller2015
Website:  www.anitamayw.wixsite.com/anitawaller
Twitter:   @anitamayw

Beautiful:
www.amazon.co.uk/Beautiful-Anita-Waller-ebook/dp/B014RCH5WM/

Angel:
www.amazon.co.uk/Angel-Anita-Waller-ebook/dp/B01DR4USZC/

34 Days:
www.amazon.co.uk/34-Days-Anita-Waller-ebook/dp/B01IP6YE0M/

Winterscroft:
www.amazon.co.uk/Winterscroft-Anita-Waller-ebook/dp/B06XMY3JD3/

Strategy:
www.amazon.co.uk/Strategy-Anita-Waller-ebook/dp/B0748MRBT2/

Captor:

www.amazon.co.uk/Captor-gripping-thriller-dont-want-ebook/dp/B079F3J98Y/



►► Blog Tour ◄◄
Love of the Egoist by @Nero Seal
Release: May 20, 2018
Preorder now: http://tiny.cc/eylnsy
Special release price: $0.99! LIMITED TIME ONLY!
Blurb:

“I wanted to play with you… punish you. But now, I want to ruin your world and turn it pitch black. Isolate you so you don’t have anything left except me.
And remember, it’s your own fault.”

* * *
Isolation. Loneliness. Endless silence stretching into eternity.
This is the personal living hell of police detective, Kuon Leiris.
His punishment for ruining the Black Duke’s deal.
But when nights come, it gets worse…
Cruelty. Care. Brutality. Affection.
Constant mind games where he can do nothing, but give in.
Yugo pours his every corrupt desire into his prey, testing the limits of their twisted relationship.
Do you dare enter a dark world where safe-words don’t exist?

***Dark, Twisted, Comes with a warning!***

πŸ–€πŸ–€MY REVIEWπŸ–€πŸ–€

No matter how hard I try I know I won’t be able to give this book the justice it deserves. 

This is a new to me author but I thought I’d give it a try as the blurb sucked me in. Never mind the blurb, the whole book sucked me right in. 

Detective Kuon Leiris was trying to bring down a crime organisation when he was captured by ‘Black Duke’ Yugo. 

Yugo is obsessed by his possession. Kuons strong will is put to the test by Yugo. 

Be warned there is trigger warnings with this story. If your like me and you read stories that have warnings then this could be for you. 
This is a really well told dark m/m read that will stay with me for a long time. I’m so looking forward to reading more from this author.


#mmromance  #Egoist #NeroSeal #Enemies2lovers #mm #BlogTour #LOTE #DarkRomance



Tacet a Mortuis by Amo Jones
REVIEW TOUR
May 16-18th


Tacet a Mortuis, the third installment in Amo Jones's Romantic Suspense Elite Kings Series is AVAILABLE NOW!

Synopisis:
Hail to the king, and watch him reign, this game was somewhat fun, until the finale came…
Now we’re here, with carnage and despair, and the only questions left to answer, are the ones that do not appear...
A king loses a war, and a swan sheds her wings, chaos collides with peace, as the crows begin to sing…
Enter if you dare, because I swear the end is near, but nothing is as it seems, and everything is so bare.
So what the f*ck is going on at Riverside,
I think, I think... everyone is about to die....

Grab your copy Today!
Add to Goodreads - http://bit.ly/2BH6VsD

MY REVIEW

This is book three in The Elite Kings Club series. Make sure you read The Silver Swan and The Broken Puppet before you read this story or you’ll be completely lost. 

This is the conclusion to Madison and Bishops story but not the end of the series as we are getting plenty more books in the series. 

I couldn’t put this down and I read it in one sitting. It is truly an amazing read with plenty of what the heck have I just read moments. I’m so looking forward to reading more from this author.


Start the series today and purchase The Silver Swan!

About Amo Jones
Amo Jones is a small country girl totally winging this author thing (she's probably doing it all wrong). She likes cake, loves wine, and her religion is magic. She's a profound work-a-holic, but when she's not writing, you can find her chilling with her kids & partner at the nearest beach, with a cocktail in her hand.
New Zealand is not a state of Australia and rugby is the best sport ever played.

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Instagram: thatcrazykiwiauthor