Books, Photos & a little bit of everything else: July 14

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  • A Little Bit of Everything Lost by Stephanie Elliot: Blog Tour Promo

  • Underneath It All by Bethany Bazile: Release Day Event

 

 

 
 
Synopsis

At 19, Marnie plunged into first love with Joe, a guy who was completely wrong for her. Their romance was fast and exhilarating and like nothing Marnie had ever experienced or understood. Just as quickly as it began, it was over, with no explanation. He left her with unanswered questions and unexpected feelings of loss and regret, and a quiet grief she would carry with her for the next fifteen years.When Joe returns, Marnie is a 34-year-old wife and mother to two rambunctious little boys, who is slowly healing from a devastating loss. All the emotions she suppressed from the past fifteen years surge to the surface, threatening to ruin her marriage and destroy her family. She’ll need to confront the one person who hurt her the most to realize that love and loss sometimes go hand in hand… and that you have to live with some of your toughest choices for the rest of your life.

A Little Bit of Everything Lost is part coming-of-age/part love story. It’s a story about a woman desperate to make peace with the past. It’s for all women who have ever experienced the magnitude of first love, whether it was a lasting bond or a fleeting moment. Because first love – while it might not have been the best love – is a love none of us ever forgets.

 
PURCHASE LINKS
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EXCERPT
October 2004

The whole process irritated the hell out of Marnie.The microwave timer buzzed, frozen pancakes warmed and ready.
“You’re going to be late for the bus!” she yelled as she searched the meat drawer for ham.
 
“Why don’t I do this the night before?” Marnie muttered into the fridge. She found meat, made sandwiches, and moved to the pantry to grab syrup for the pancakes.
 
The lid was sticky.
 
She heard the boys arguing about who got to play Xbox first when they got home from school. They were going to be late. Again. And the lid was covered in syrup. Again.
 
“Damn it, boys! Get down here. Now!
 
They were still arguing as they bounded down the stairs and Marnie knew Jeremy had taken his forefinger and thumb and whacked his younger brother on the head because Trey yelped, “I’m telling!”
 
“No tattling,” Marnie threatened. “Or there’ll be no soccer after school.”
 
“Good. I hate soccer practice,” Jeremy said.
 
“Me too,” Trey agreed with his older brother.
 
Marnie shook her head. There was no winning here. She was losing the battle that was good parenting, and she didn’t know how she was going to survive. High school – hell, junior high school – was still eons away.
 
The rumble of the bus wheels turning onto the street signaled panic in the boys’ eyes. “The bus!” Trey screamed.
 
“Grab a granola bar, your lunches and backpacks, and run!
 
No matter what chaos each morning brought, Jeremy and Trey were endearing still, her little boys, taking the time to kiss her, and to tell her they loved her. Every morning, no matter what, they managed to love her. If only that were enough. If only.
 
As Trey buried his head into Marnie for a hug, she inhaled the little boy smell of him. Oh God, how she wished they didn’t have to grow up, didn’t have to become big boys. Big ones – well, big eight-year-olds like Jeremy – were already showing signs of pulling away, of needing her less and less. Of asking for fewer cuddles, and practically no more bedtime stories, wanting rather to stay up late to watch basketball with Dad when he was home. At least six-year-old Trey could still be babied. He and Marnie would snuggle at night and make up stories about worms named Pinkster and Swirmy, who lived in huts in their backyard, and ate muddy cakes filled with flies.
 
Marnie sighed. “I love you boys. Have a good day.” She touched her belly.
 
“Love you too, Mom. Bye!” And the door banged behind them. Her double tornado gone. She heard them screaming down the drive, Trey shouting for Jeremy to wait up for him, always, always chasing after his older brother.
 
Marnie opened the microwave and took out the mini pancakes the boys hadn’t had time to eat. She grabbed the syrup bottle again, forgetting it was sticky.
 
“Damn it,” she said to no one, because no one was home. It was Tuesday, and Stuart was gone.
 
She pulled a paper towel off the roll and noticed it had a Fourth of July stars-and-stripes pattern on it. Summer seemed like forever ago. She didn’t want to remember the summer that didn’t happen. She didn’t want to think of fireworks and pool parties, barbecues and sparklers. And her boys, their tanned little bodies, their goggled faces, swimming until they were so tired they would collapse into their beds with no coaxing. She didn’t want to think about parades and fresh sugary-tart lemonade, neighborhood get-togethers, of weekend trips to her parent’s lake house, all the things they didn’t get to do. She didn’t want to think about what she should be doing now.
 
Marnie turned the faucet on cold, saturated the paper towel, and rubbed the top of the syrup bottle as best as she could to clean it off. Then she doused the pancakes with syrup and popped the mini pancakes into her mouth, one by one, filling the void with the golden yeasty fluff, not feeling or tasting, just chewing… chewing until they were all gone; until the anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach and she felt like she could begin her day.
 
She ran a mental list through her head: the dry cleaners, she had to proof photos from last weekend’s shoot, a trip to the grocery store. And she would have to stop by the post office to mail that package that had been sitting on the foyer table for over a week now. The one Stuart had asked her to mail.
 
When he got home last Thursday and spotted it still there, he had sighed. “I didn’t have time today,” she said. “Tomorrow,” she promised. “I’ll get to it tomorrow.”
 
“I’m home now. I can mail it tomorrow,” he had said, but he hadn’t gotten around to doing it either.
 
The phone rang, Marnie wiped her sticky fingers on another paper towel, and checked Caller ID. It was Collette. She hadn’t talked to Collette since last week so she settled onto a kitchen bar stool, ready for one of her usual pep talks. Marnie was desperate for one today.
 
“Hey you,” Marnie answered.
 
“Mar, hon. He’s back in town.”
 
Marnie felt a glob of doughy pancake she had just devoured rise to a lump in her throat.
 
AUTHOR BIO
Stephanie Elliot is the author of A Little Bit of Everything Lost, What She Left Us, and the novella, The Cell Phone Lot. She is also a writer and editor and has written for a variety of newspapers, magazines and websites. In her spare time she edits manuscripts for other writers and proofs executive documents. She lives in Arizona with her husband and three children.
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Monday – July 14th Rockin’ & Reviewing Review
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Monday – July 14th Books, Photos & a little bit of everything else Promo Post
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Wednesday, July 16th Sassy Southern Book Blog Review
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Wednesday, July 16th Firefly Book Blog Review & Excerpt
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Thursday, July 17th New Adult Addiction Promo Post
Thursday, July 17th Sexy Bibliophiles Review
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Friday, July 18th Cheekypee reads and reviews Review
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Friday, July 18th Crawling Over The Pages Review & Excerpt
Friday, July 18th The Booknatics Promo Post
Saturday, July 19th Undercover Book Reviews Review & Excerpt
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Saturday, July 19th A Thousand Lives Review & Excerpt
Saturday, July 19th deal sharing aunt Promo Post
Saturday, July 19th Just The Stories Review & Excerpt
Saturday, July 19th Short and Sassy Book Blurbs Review & Excerpt
 

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Underneath It All Release Day

Release Day Event

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Book Title: Underneath it All
Author: Bethany Bazile
Genre: Erotic Romance (Novella)
Release Date: July 14, 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Synopsis

Avery was unexpected but exactly what I needed. She gave me hope again, made me feel things I thought died over a decade ago.

I was reverting back to the man I used to be. The man who destroyed lives to keep the one person who meant everything to him.

My secrets were piling up. I didn’t know how long I’d be able to maintain it all.

But I knew I’d do anything to keep her.

There was only one way to hold on to her. I had to let her see who I was underneath it all.

Meet the Author

Bethany Bazile reads, writes, and lives in the Northeast with her husband and two amazing kids. Her passion for writing was born from a love affair between books and music. She loves books that draw her in and won’t release her until she’s inhaled every word, panting with excitement. Then she realizes the sun came up, but the loss of sleep was so worth it. When she isn’t reading, she’s conjuring up steamy love scenes and hot romance stories to share with fellow romance lovers. She can’t function without her cup of coffee and operates on a vampire-like time-frame.

excerpt

Let’s Play Doctor

Xander

“I need help.” I licked my lips and smiled at Avery because I knew she had a weakness for my dimples.

“What kind of help?” Avery furrowed her eyebrows, gazing at me over her glasses.

“I have an obsession with sexy doctors who pull their hair up in tight buns but wear sexy garters and naughty underwear.”

“Well, Mr. Pierce, sounds like you need therapy.” Avery came around the desk and leaned her ass on the edge, pulling off her glasses and eying me.

“It’s really severe, Dr. Shaw. My fingers tremble with the need to let her hair down, my mouth waters from her smell, and my dick gets so… hard.”

She stepped forward, bit down on her bottom lip as she leaned over, and rubbed my cock through the fabric of my pants. “It’s not only hard. It’s feverishly hot.”

“What can you do for me, doctor?”

She smiled. A slow, sultry smile. She unfastened my belt, dragged my zipper down, and pulled out my cock. “Maybe I can cool it down.” She cupped my balls in her palm and massaged them, her lips brushing against mine. “With my mouth,” she whispered against my lips.

I hissed.

She dropped down to her knees, looked up at me, then rolled her tongue over the head of my cock. I jolted. It was all I could do not to come. She caressed the underside of my dick, then flicked her tongue into the seeping slit.

Ohh… fuck. She was going to kill me. Hundreds of blowjobs and I never felt anything like this. Once she got her mouth on my cock, there was no such thing as a simple blowjob. It was more like a blast of pleasure, a rush of sensation, and then a series of aftershocks once the earthquake passed.

Her mouth worked me hard and fast. I laced my fingers into her hair and restrained her, because the only way I’d survive this was if I took the bull by the horns and controlled it. She peered up at me, trying to persuade me with her blue gaze to let her drive me mad.

But fuck that. If I was going to pour my soul out to her today, I was going to savor this moment. I guided her up and down my shaft, her lips soft and her mouth hot. She licked the head every time I pulled her back, sucking me almost to the base when I pushed her down.

She’s too good at this. I’m going to blow soon.

The next time I pulled her back, she licked my cock with this wicked smile on her lips. Then she sucked it into her mouth and twisted and sucked and twisted. The pleasure was too much. I fucking whimpered, shuddered, then growled because I was pissed she’d won. She wasn’t going to let me stall at all. I came in a hot rush of pleasure that raced up and down my spine, then shot out into her mouth.

She swallowed it. I think. My mind was in a whirlwind and I couldn’t focus on much of anything that happened after that orgasm.

She sat in my lap and kissed me. Yeah… she swallowed because she tasted like me. She held me until my breathing evened out. Then she stood up and tucked my dick back in my pants.

“Xander,” she said, pushing away my hand as I tried to slip it back up her thigh. “I know you’re stalling.” Her expression was effectively sobering. The room went from reverberating sexual cries to brimming with tension in a few short minutes. “We agreed to meet here because you said you would take this seriously.”

“What just happened here was serious as fuck.” I smirked, trying to lighten up the solemn tone that was setting in around us.

She frowned.

“Fine.” I huffed a breath. “But before we continue, I want to tell you I’ve never been good at relationships.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’m controlling and manipulative. I become consumed when I feel something for a woman.”

“Don’t worry about any of that. I just want to know who you are underneath all the bullshit. Underneath the asshole persona, who are you?”

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