Books, Photos & a little bit of everything else: June 27

  • Better as a Memory by Marilyn Baxter: Blog Tour & Giveaway

  • The Stage by Shelby Rebecca: Sneak Peak & Giveaway

  • Under Contract by Jacquelyn Ayres: Cover Reveal

Book:  Better as a Memory

Author: Marilyn Baxter

Publication Date: May 13, 2014

Atlanta image consultant Victoria Sharpe is about to give a makeover to the man who broke her heart in college, and a do-over to a love that always should have been.

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Looking at her potential client, Atlanta image consultant Victoria Sharpe is convinced the job will be a cross between What Not to Wear and Man vs. Wild. She’d love to turn down the offer, but refusing it—not to mention the referrals it could generate—just might break the bank. Yet, agreeing to make over this man’s image might also break her heart. Again.
Max Brown will tolerate anything to gain access to his trust fund. Returning to work in the family business, even submitting to his mother’s demands to trade his comfortable flannel for Armani is worthwhile if he can get the money necessary to start a camp for at-risk boys. But then he sees he’ll be working with Victoria Sharpe, his college girlfriend, the one who got away. Or, really, the one he left. The impression he makes here will be the most important of his life, and the person most as risk is himself.
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The persistent knocking at her front door roused Victoria from a dream where she and Max lived in a log cabin deep in the Rockies with their child—a toddler with eyes as blue as the mountain sky and brown hair that curled at his nape just like his daddy’s. The dream was a recent and recurring one, and she always woke from it a little sad. In her dream they were a family—together and happy. The location puzzled her because even though Max had invited her into his world for that one day of hiking, she knew she’d never be invited in completely. She had wondered, though, what she would have done if Max had extended that invitation. Cold and snow and isolation were out of her comfort zone.


She pulled on her robe, grabbed her phone in case she needed to call 911 and padded barefoot toward the front door, wishing she had insisted Nick install a peephole so she could see the late-night visitor. She moved to the window and nudged the curtain aside in the hope she could see a car parked below and determine her visitor’s identity.


Only one person in her circle of friends drove a black SUV, but what was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Colorado making his dream come true.


The knocking intensified. “Victoria, open the door,” Max yelled.


She opened the door a few inches and glared at the subject of her dream. Dark stubble covered the lower half of his face and his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them. It had taken him only two days to undo weeks of image coaching. Yet she had to admit he wore grungy well. Way too damned well for her erratic hormones.


“You’re usually not asleep so early on a Saturday night.” He propped one hand against the door frame.


I’m usually not pregnant and bone tired.


Victoria crossed her arms in a defensive pose, the pressure aggravating her already tender breasts. “You’re not supposed to be here. Did you forget the way to Colorado and lose your razor in the process?”


“Can I at least come inside to have this discussion?”


She swung the door open wide and waved him in. He strode to the sofa and sank onto it. His gaze swept her from head to toe. “Nice outfit,” he said with a cheeky grin. “I didn’t know you had a thing for Superman.”

Victoria pulled her robe around her and tied the sash tightly around the loose lounge pants and oversized red and blue t-shirt.


“Every woman has a thing for a man who stands up for truth and justice and comes to her rescue.”


He nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that’s why you don’t have a shirt with my picture on it.”

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In 2001, Marilyn discovered Romance novels quite by accident, which led to a renewed interest in writing. She started out by writing fanfiction about Clark Kent, Lois Lane and Superman,
which developed into a desire to write about her own characters. She’s had over forty short stories published in the confessions and Romance magazines.
Also, she has taught a class in how to effectively write for this genre and worked as a researcher and copy editor for several Romance authors. All this combined to give her a great love of the
Romance genre and helped develop a multitude of friendships in the Romance community.
She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, as well as her local chapter, Heart of Dixie. In addition to reading, Marilyn loves to knit (as long as it’s only a scarf), cook (in the crockpot), garden (in a couple of pots on her patio), and her motto is “Have passport, will travel.” She’d love to add to the list of 32 states and 21 foreign countries she’s already visited.
After raising two great sons, she loves to spoil… er… dote on her two granddaughters.
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The Stage Sneak Peek
Sneak Peek


Book Title: The Stage
Author: Shelby Rebecca
Genre: New Adult Rock Star Romance
Release Date: July 2, 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions


Mia the saint.

Kolton the sinner.

Kolton Royce is a tatted, bad boy rock star at the top of his game.

Mia Phoenix is an overly responsible nineteen-year-old striving for stardom since losing her parents in a house fire.

When Mia ends up on Kolton’s team for the debut of the new nationwide singing competition, The Stage, she’s not sure if it’s her or her voice that he’s hellbent to control.

After he takes special interest in her welfare, they’ve been warned, any contact between them outside of filming is strictly forbidden.

He has other ideas.

She’s a phoenix rising from the ashes, the only one who understands the pain that lies beneath the persona. Though he’s not sure if he’s too bad for her, he can’t stay away.

All sinners have a past. All saints have a future. But, does being born in fire make the fissures weak in all the wrong places, or stronger than they’ve ever known?


The Stage is written for an adult audience 18+. This excerpt contains adult language. Copyright, Shelby Rebecca, 2014. All rights reserved.

In this excerpt of THE STAGE, Kolton Royce has made his team on the nationwide singing competition, The Stage, wait all day and into the evening to film a group scene together. Mia Phoenix has just found out that Kolton has hired a nanny to take care of her little nine-year-old sister, Riley (who she’s raising alone after the house fire that took the lives of both parents) so she can still compete on the show. After filming the scene, he offers to take her to the hotel where she’s been staying while they’ve been filming. He picks up her sleeping sister and gets in the back of his car. This is what happens next.

Chapter Four

Call me Kole

“Something funny, Mia?” he asks, his face half shadowed as the car begins to move us forward.

“Riley hates boys,” I say. “She’d be so pissed if she knew she was all nestled up to you like that.”

“Well, it can be our secret,” he says, and a chill runs up my spine. I want out of this car, now.

“Are we going to the hotel?” I ask to appease the odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“We need to talk about that,” he says. His chin sticks out and he rubs the stubble on his cheek.

“What are you doing?” I feel brave all of the sudden, but my voice gives away how aware I am of my own lack of control over this situation.

“I want you to call me Kole.” His voice is deep. He sounds troubled. Nothing like the entertainer I’m used to watching on TV.

“Why do you want me to call you Kole?” Adrenaline. Heart pounding. Take a breath.

“Say it again,” he says, shutting his eyes. His voice sounds carnal and filled with need. It scares me.

“I’m not going to call you that. I just need you to take us to our hotel?” I need his help, but I can tell he’s not being honest with me.

“Mia,” he says. And oh, the way my name comes out of his mouth. “I saw you the other day outside the studio, then your voice up there. You’ve really stood out to me, overall. I want to, no—I need to help you.”

“Kolton, I—”

“I’ve read your file,” he says, interrupting me. “I’ve watched the media footage about your parents and the fire,” I have to cover my mouth with my hand.

“I don’t—”

“We have a lot in common.” His voice sounds like tears when they’re stuck in the throat. “I feel very protective of you,” he admits, and clears his throat.

My hands are shaking. Is he crazy or something? Like one of those celebrities who owns a puma and wants only red M&Ms in his dressing room? Plus, we’ve been driving for too long. Where is he taking us?

“Are we on the freeway?” I ask. It’s hard to see out of these black windows. They’re eerily dark like shadows and secrets. I feel agitated—my eyes too wide to blink.

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Why?” I ask, noting the slight tremors of my hands.

“I’d rather just show you.”

“Listen, just because I’m on your team doesn’t mean—,” I start.

“It’s all or nothing for me,” he interrupts. He’s rubbing his thumb into the palm of his hand and talking to the shadow window.

“You’re really controlling.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds, as his jaw tenses up.

“Like that’s going to help,” I say.


“Snapping at me.” I fold my arms and lean back into the seat.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me. When I want something, I get it. Does that make sense?”

“And what you want is?”

“Hmm,” he says, contemplating. “To help you, to help take care of your sister so you have limited distractions, and you can go all the way to the finals. For now, that’s what I want.”

“I’m not a groupie who’s willing to be abducted and taken wherever you want me to go.” But then again, I guess he did exactly that. Anger boils up in me like boiling water.

He ignores me. We stare at opposing black windows, sitting in silence. Only the hum of the tires on asphalt and the in and out of Riley’s slumber-breaths between us.

I’m too agitated to ask him where we’re going. If he refused to tell me again, I’m going to go off. We take a slight right, getting off the freeway and head down a road lined with high-rise buildings. The car stops and I can’t control the tremors in my hands as I wait for him to say something. Explain himself.

“Kolton? Where are we?” I ask, my voice higher than I’d meant it to be. We’re parked in front of a brick high-rise with two huge ferns outside the front entrance.

“The Wilshire Thayer,” he says. “I didn’t have a chance to talk to you. It was a split-second decision.” He pinches between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve moved you to the penthouse here. It’s an exclusive building. The security is tighter than the hotel. I feel better about you staying here while I’m gone.”

“What? I—you—I’m? You moved our stuff out of the hotel?”

“Not personally, no.”

“Is this something you’ve done for your whole team? Like, we’re all staying here?”

“No, Mia, they’re not,” he says, as he leans slightly forward, his green eyes are being highlighted by the street light. They look predatory and possessive. “I only want what’s best for you.” I’m shaking my head no. I put my hand out to ward off any more talking from him. This is not fucking okay.

“Just take us back to the hotel,” I demand.

“No. That’s not going to be possible.” He leans back into the partial shadows.

“This is why you were late today?” I ask, feeling honored, but smothered all in the same moment.

“Partly, yes,” he admits, looking straight through me again. My whole body shudders. I do not want to be under anyone’s control. “Let’s get her inside,” he says, as he taps the window. The door is opened from the outside, and he motions for me to get out first.

“We need to talk about this!”

“Not now, Mia,” he admonishes me like a child. “I’ve had a very long day—and nothing you say is going to change anything at this point. Let’s go inside and discuss it.”

I stomp out of the car and then he comes out, holding Riley, and walks past the front desk. The doorman nods to him, and we are ushered into one of the elevators. His driver is with us, and I notice a gun strapped under his arm. He must also be his bodyguard. I feel dizzy, nauseated. I put my hand over my stomach to ease the rumbling, boiling rage.

The older man has inserted a key into the elevator control. I’m assuming it’s because he’s taking us to a floor that’s off limits to the rest of the building.

There’s twelve floors and then a “P”. Penthouse, I guess. What! There’s thirteen floors? What’s up with me and the number thirteen these days?

I look at Riley. She’s so tired. She’s not moved a muscle. She’s even snoring a little.

“You don’t live here, do you?” I ask, hearing the shaking in my own voice.

“Some of the time, yes.” I’m pursing my lips together and biting the inside of the bottom one. “I also have a house in the hills.” My fingers have unknowingly chipped off almost all of my dark nail polish.

“Does it have a fire escape?” I ask. If we’re going to the top floor, that really worries me.

“It has the best built-in alarm, and that includes fire. It’s completely up to code. I had the sprinklers installed myself before I moved in. And yes, there’s a fire escape—just installed,” he says. “It reaches down to the floor below you.” He looks like he’s in pain as he says it, like it makes him sad that I asked.

“Since I have no way to leave tonight, we’ll stay the night. But we’re going back to the hotel tomorrow.” I’m mad at him. Furious. Someone had to go through our belongings to pack them up. And shouldn’t he have asked me first?

He doesn’t answer me. “I’m not some slutty girl who sleeps her way up the ladder,” I say, defensively. To that, he laughs a little.

“No, I didn’t think you did.”


Meet the Author

Shelby grew up between two mountains and a lake in Wasilla, Alaska. She used to run around in the tall grass, catch frogs, rescue dragonflies, ride horses, and ice-skate during recess. She still likes adventures and has even gone skydiving. Today she lives in Northern California with her husband, John, and their daughter, Elise, their two dogs, and a fish named Jade.

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Book: Under Contract
Author: Jacquelyn Ayres
Genre: Erotic Romance/Erotic Humor

Charlotte McKendrick is your typical thirty-something stay-at-home mom. She has three beautiful children, a loving family, special friends, and the most wonderful, adoring husband. Her life is a dream.Er . . . let’s try this again.

Charlotte McKendrick is not your typical thirty-something stay-at-home mom. Yes, she’s got three beautiful children, a loving family (all of them lingerers—you’ll see), and her friends are special, all right! As far as her wonderful, adoring husband, what a joke! That bastard abandoned her and the kids six months ago.Now, she will do anything she can to survive and provide for her children. Even if it means signing on the dotted line . . .

Mitch Colton is the CEO of Colton Technologies. Most of his year is spent traveling around the world, bringing companies the latest innovations in automobile technology. He doesn’t have time for a traditional relationship and the BS that comes with it. He doesn’t do the “marriage” thing, the “kid” thing, and he certainly doesn’t do the “falling in love” thing. All that said, he still wants someone to come home to. Someone who will offer everything he wants, and nothing he doesn’t. He realizes loyalty paired with these kinds of demands won’t come cheap. No problem. What he doesn’t realize is that once Charlotte McKendrick signs that dotted line, he’ll be paying with a lot more than money.

I am a Domestic Engineer (born and raised in NJ) whose sole responsibility is to guide three young impressionable kids into becoming phenomenal adults. This challenging, yet rewarding work requires a lot of love (coffee), patience (wine) and determination (periodic exorcisms). I work all of this magic in the beautiful state of New Hampshire .Before becoming a Domestic Goddess (not really), I spent over a decade working in the medical field where I wore more hats than the Queen.

I have had a love for the written word and the great escape it provides since I was a little girl. When I wasn’t reading about people and the places they lived, I was creating my own characters and adventures. Finally, I have been putting a pen to paper allowing my characters to come to life. When I don’t have a pen and paper in hand, you can often find me laughing at the conversations my characters are having in my head.


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