Monday, July 22, 2019

BOOK BLITZ - YA FANTASY - Fate of Dragons (Dragons Rising, #1) by Alisha Klapheke

Fate of Dragons
(Dragons Rising, #1)
by Alisha Klapheke
Publication date: March 27th 2019
Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

An Earth Queen desperate to wake her magic.

An elven prince fighting a ruthless betrayal.

A flood is coming. The Sea Queen has a mad plan to drown the world.

Only the magic of the Earth Queen can stop her. Vahly, the last human, was born to fill that role and wield the power necessary to battle the rising oceans and save the dragons and elves.

But Vahly is the world’s biggest disappointment. She possesses no magic whatsoever.

When she finds an ancient scroll that mentions a human power ritual conducted deep in the homeland of the elves, she gathers her dragon allies and journeys to see the king of that great forest-dwelling race.

Welcomed by a handsome royal cloaked in dark magic, will Vahly find answers or will a twisted and powerful elven lord destroy her chance at saving the world?
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Author Info
When USA Today Bestselling author Alisha Klapheke isn't busy creating new fantasy worlds, she teaches martial arts (specifically Muay Thai kickboxing, Krav Maga, and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu), loves on her two amazing kids, and travels the world with her ninja husband. *Alisha made the list November 2, 2017
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BOOK BLITZ w/EXCERPT - Mean to Be (Four Irish Brothers Winery, #2) by Nan Reinhardt

Meant to Be
(Four Irish Brothers Winery, #2)
by Nan Reinhardt
Published by: Tule Publishing
Publication date: July 18th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Can a near-tragedy help two best friends realize they’re meant to be so much more?

Best friends since grade school, high-powered Chicago attorney, Sean Flaherty, and small-town mayor Megan Mackenzie have always shared a special bond. When Sean is shot by a client’s angry ex, Megan rushes to his side, terrified she’s about to lose her long-time confidant.

Upon his return to River’s Edge to recuperate, Sean discovers that his feelings for his pal have taken an undeniable turn for the romantic. While Megan struggles with an unfamiliar longing for Sean, she worries that he may be mistaking a safe place to land for love.

Can Sean help her realize that they are truly meant to be so much more than friends?
Meg was afraid to ask, but she did anyway. “What happened?”
“Sean’s been shot.” Sam crumpled back into the booth, sobbing.
Megan gasped as bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t even comprehend Sam’s words. Sean was shot? The invincible Sean Flaherty? Her buddy? Her best friend? His handsome face flashed into her mind—the lock of dark hair that invariably fell across his brow, the blue, blue eyes that sparkled sapphire with wit or turned dark navy with emotion, that killer smile, those amazing Flaherty dimples… impossible!
“What?” She sat down across from Sam. “Shot?” She could hardly catch her breath. “When? Where?”
Sam grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and swiped at her eyes. “I–I don’t know much. Charlie Smith at the firm said it happened right outside the courthouse in Evanston early this afternoon. Some crazy woman. The wife of his current client. They took him to Northwestern; he’s in surgery right now.” She took a shaky breath. “Conor’s driving up to meet Aidan and Brendan at the airport, then they’re heading to the hospital.” She covered her mouth with both hands as if that could stop her lips from trembling, then shuddered. “Dear God, Meg.”
Megan closed her eyes, trying desperately to banish the dreadful pictures in her head—Sean on a gurney, pale and bleeding—and replace them with ones from the last time she’d seen him—grinning and pouring sparkling wine on New Year’s Eve.
They’d hugged each other at midnight because neither of them had had a date, and Sean had pressed his warm lips to her forehead. “You’re the best, Megs,” he’d murmured and held her close to his brawny chest for a long moment. She felt the even beat of his heart under the navy sweater he wore—the one she’d knitted for him for Christmas that made his eyes look deep blue.
“I’m going up there.” Megan stood and gazed at Sam. “I have to, Sam. He’s my oldest and dearest friend. Maybe there’s nothing I can do, but I can spell the guys at visitation and maybe, I dunno, give blood or something. I just know I can’t stay here. I’ll go crazy. I have to see him.”
Sam stared at her silently, then sighed. “Come on. Let’s trade cars. I don’t trust your old beater to make it to Indianapolis, and you sure as heck can’t ride Big Red all the way to Chicago.”

Author Info
Nan Reinhardt is a USA Today-bestselling author of romantic fiction for women in their prime. Yeah, women still fall in love and have sex, even after 45! Imagine! She is a wife, a mom, a mother-in-law, and a grandmother. Nan has been a copyeditor and proofreader for over 25 years, and currently works on romantic fiction titles for a variety of clients, including Avon Books, St. Martin’s Press, Kensington Books, and Entangled Publishing, as well as for many indie authors. 
Although she loves her life as an editor, writing is Nan’s first and most enduring passion. Her latest novel, Meant to Be, Book 2 in the Four Irish Brothers Winery series from Tule Publishing releases on July 18, 2019. A Small Town Christmas, which is the first book in the Four Irish Brothers Winery series from Tule Publishing, is available now, and she is currently hard at work on Book 3. 
Visit Nan’s website at, where you’ll find links to all her books as well as blogs about writing, being a Baby Boomer, and aging gracefully…mostly. Nan also blogs every sixth Wednesday at Word Wranglers, sharing the spotlight with five other romance authors and is a frequent contributor the RWA Contemporary Romance blog, and she contributes to the Romance University blog where she writes as Editor Nan.

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COVER REVEAL - ROM-COM - About Face (Love in the Suburbs, #1) by D.E. Haggerty

About Face
(Love in the Suburbs, #1)
by D.E. Haggerty 
Release Date: August 29th 2019 
Cover Designer: Jeroen E. Spaan - Geared Training 
Genre:Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance 

My grandma is trying to hook me up. To be painfully specific, my seventy-five-year-old grandmother thinks a little hanky-panky would cheer me up. Direct quote. Since I’m currently living with her, I can’t escape the endless line of grandchildren of friends who keep ‘dropping by’ for dinner. Literally, I can’t escape. I can barely manage the trek to the dining room at this point. While Grandma’s determined to find me a husband, I’m determined to learn how to walk again so I can walk away from her matchmaking skills. Spoiler alert: She has no matchmaking skills. But then I get a brilliant idea. I can fake date my physical therapist. Only he wants a real date. Gulp. A real date with me? Is he for real? I’m no longer the stylish girl with the glamorous job. Now, I’m a woman with a shattered leg and a scarred face. If I’m going to learn to live with my new reality and give love a chance, my attitude needs to do an about face. Easier said than done.

I grew up reading everything I could get my grubby hands on, from my mom's Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew, to Little Women. When I wasn't flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although on the odd occasion I did manage to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. After surviving the army experience, I went back to school and got my law degree. I jumped ship and joined the hubby in the Netherlands before the graduation ceremony could even begin. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. But being a lawyer really wasn’t my thing, so I quit (again!) and went off to Germany to start a B&B. Turns out being a B&B owner wasn’t my thing either. I polished off that manuscript languishing in the attic before following the husband to Istanbul where I decided to give the whole writer-thing a go. But ten years was too many to stay away from my adopted home. I packed up again and moved to The Hague where I’m currently working on my next book. I hope I’ll always be working on my next book.

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TOUR w/EXCERPT - ONCE UPON A TIME N BLISS (Nights in Bliss, #8) by Lexi Blake writing as Sophie Oak

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Go back in time to Bliss’s first happily ever after…

Once Upon a Time in Bliss
Nights in Bliss, #8
by Lexi Blake writing as Sophie Oak
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The Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . ONCE UPON A TIME IN BLISS (Nights in Bliss, #8) . . . After getting started and sinking in with the Bliss, CO and its inhabitants, I was wanting more. I have to go back to start of this series and read them all and then read this one again. John/Henry was a walking desire on two legs. He was a man on a resting mission or was he. But either way the time he thought he would spend just passing with a willing woman turned out to be so much more. There were fantastic characters, a charming town, suspense and danger, and more. I was regretting putting it down, but I will return again and read it after the first seven books get devoured. Happily. 

The dedication at the beginning of this one was beautiful. I want to say thank you. 

CIA operative John Bishop arrived in Bliss, Colorado, seeking a respite from the high-stakes game of blood and lies that sent him to the worst corners of the world. A week playing the role of vacationing professor Henry Flanders would recharge his batteries, especially if he found a gorgeous woman to occupy his time.

Nell Finn has spent her life focused on helping others, but when she meets the tall and mysterious Henry Flanders, she can’t stop imagining what he might do for her. When Nell and her mother are threatened, Henry comes to her, offering his protection and comfort.

But as the threats escalate out of control, Henry discovers that the beautiful and innocent Nell is much more than a plaything. Can he save the woman he loves without exposing the secrets that would drive her away?

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“Is there any way you could drop me off in town?” He felt his eyes narrow because she had plans. That was obvious. He was fairly sure that he wouldn’t like her plans. “Why?” “Because I need to start scheduling the repairs.” That wasn’t all she was planning on doing. She was hiding something. It was right there in the way she wouldn’t look him in the eyes. And why had she talked about her mom staying with Pam Sheppard and not herself? It was time to start herding Nell in the proper direction. He crowded her. It wasn’t hard in the small bedroom. The minute she realized how close he was, she backed up, ceding the space until her back hit the door. “Henry?” “How do you intend to pay for those repairs?” This cabin would require extensive repairs. Everything would have to be replaced. The door alone would cost hundreds of dollars, not to mention fixing the windows. He would bet a lot that Nell didn’t have that money. Her face flushed the closer he got. Yes, she was aware of him, finally. That was what he wanted. “I don’t know that’s your business.” “So it’s my business to take care of this for you, but not to know how you’ll take care of yourself? Is that how you work when you help someone out? You do one piece of the job and send them on their way?” He was playing on her sympathetic soul. And her body. He leaned in. She smelled sweet, like milk and honey. Damn, but he could eat her up. And there was no way to miss the way her nipples peaked under her sweater because she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her voice was slightly breathless. “I think it’s nice that you want to help, but I don’t need it. I can fix everything.” He loomed over her, well aware that he was using his height to intimidate her. “How, Nell? Do you have a job you haven’t told me about?” “I have a computer I can pawn,” she said quietly. He’d wondered what she’d intended to do, and still his freaking cold-as-fuck heart softened a fraction. All she’d talked about on the way over here was her writing. “I thought you wrote books.” Her back was against the wall. She had nowhere to go, and that was just what he wanted. Her eyes had dilated. They roamed from his face to his neck to his chest, taking him in even as she spoke. “I do, but I have to admit, I don’t think I’m very good at it. I keep getting rejected, so I might as well get rid of the computer. Do you have to stand so close?” There wasn’t a trace of irritation in that question. It had been asked with a delicious breathiness that let him know she was interested. “If you didn’t want me to stand so close, you should have gotten a bigger bedroom,” he said, well aware his voice had gone low. He stared down at her, unwilling to let her off the hook for a second. Now that he was close to her, he was damn sure he couldn’t let her go. Oh, eventually he would. He would go back to his life and she would move on with hers, but for a week or so, he was going to be in her bed. He was going to be in her body. And he was going to solve a few of her problems. “You can’t pawn your computer. How will you keep up with your protests? How will you know what to protest in the first place?” It didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t stand the thought of her walking into some crummy shop and giving up her computer for half of what it was worth. “I’ll figure it out,” she replied, her eyes round. And selling the thing wouldn’t do any good. It would be a drop in the bucket of what she would need. “It won’t work, Nell.” He backed her against the wall. “Let someone help you. I can loan you the money.”It wouldn’t be a loan, but she didn’t have to know that until he was long gone and she couldn’t find him. “That’s not a good idea.” Her head tilted up. “None of this is a good idea.” But her lips, those fuck-me, take-me lips, were trembling. Her hands were moving to his waist like she couldn’t help herself, and he didn’t even want to try to help himself. Everything about his life was plotted and planned and decided on for the best of whatever fucking mission he happened to be on. He didn’t want to think. He wanted her. That was all that mattered.“It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

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Author Info
Lexi Blake New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lexi Blake lives in North Texas with her husband, three kids, and the laziest rescue dog in the world. She began writing at a young age, concentrating on plays and journalism. It wasn’t until she started writing romance that she found success. She likes to find humor in the strangest places. Lexi believes in happy endings no matter how odd the couple, threesome or foursome may seem.

Connect with Lexi 
Facebook: BookBub: Twitter: Amazon: Goodreads: Instagram: Pinterest: Youtube: Stay up to date with Lexi by joining her mailing list: Website:
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TOUR w/EXCERPT - EVERYTHING BETWEEN US (Starving Artists, #2) by Sarah Fine

Everything Between Us
Starving Artists, #2
by Sarah Fine
Publication Date: 2013
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance

Bestselling author Sarah Fine presents a sexy and psychological standalone novel sure to thrill new adult romance readers everywhere.

What starts as a battle of wills can quickly turn into passion...

The Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . EVERYTHING BETWEEN US (Starving Artists, #2) . . . 

Daniel’s got everything figured out. He makes a good living as an artist … mostly through offering “private shows” to the wives of local wealthy businessmen. He never stops playing the game and never lets anyone touch his heart. But when his current fling offers him a few hundred an hour for art lessons for her reclusive, college-dropout daughter, Daniel finds himself forgetting his own rules. The girl is rude. Insulting. Incredible.

And she sees straight through him.
Stella is hiding from the world, not because she wants to, but because crippling panic attacks await her every time she tries to live a normal life. She’s determined to push everyone–including her handsome new art teacher—away. But Daniel makes it utterly impossible. The guy is irritating. Mocking. Magnetic.

And makes her want things she knows she can never have.

What starts as a battle of wills turns into passion, where giving in means facing the things that scare them most.

**WARNING: This is a new adult novel and contains material which is sexual in nature. Content may not be suitable for readers under the age of 18.**

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A Starving Artists Novel
© 2013 Sarah Fine



As soon as I climb back into bed, Liza’s fingertip is tracing along the swirling black lines of my tattoo, winding its way across my chest, all the way up to my neck. “That was amazing,” she purrs.
I smirk at the ceiling as she settles herself against me. “You’re welcome.”
She smacks me lightly on the shoulder. “It seemed like you enjoyed yourself, too.”
I cringe inwardly. That pouting, please tell me I’m pretty tone always makes me want to vault off the bed and sprint for the door, but I force myself to smile instead, because that’s how you play this game … if you want to win, that is. “More than enjoyed myself.” I brush her auburn hair away from her slightly damp forehead—catching a glimpse of a few gray hairs that tell me she probably has a salon appointment scheduled next week—and plant a lingering kiss on her brow. 
She stretches like a cat in the sun, throwing her smooth leg over mine and nuzzling my neck. Ah, cuddling. Liza loves it, and I hope she pays accordingly. “This was exactly what I needed to get my mind off things.”
“Good.” I tangle my fingers in her hair as her lips tickle my skin. It feels good, and I close my eyes and savor it, focusing only on the sensation, fluttering and light and warm. 
She sighs, and that’s when I know she wants to add talking to our routine. We met a few weeks ago when she began attending the winter session painting class I’m teaching at the artists’ co-op downtown. Like it’s been with so many of the wealthy wives of our local upper class, my arrangement with Liza started out easy—a “private lesson,” a quick fuck, a hundred or two in my pocket, a kiss goodbye—but now that we’ve been on for nearly a month, she’s wanting more. I don’t really do more, but she’s commissioned a series of paintings for the new entertainment suite her husband is building off the back of this mansion, and she’s paying a few thousand per canvas. How many canvases she ends up wanting depends very much on how well I satisfy her. So … “Are you okay, Liza? You sound stressed.” I squeeze her a little, just to show I really care.
She smiles and squeezes me back. Mission accomplished. “I’m okay, but not great. Estella came home from college for the holidays, and she’s adamant that she’s not going back.”
I try to remember which of her daughters she’s talking about. She pointed out their pictures in the entryway the first time I came over, poster-sized senior portraits of two girls with Liza’s high cheekbones and slightly pointed chin, and their dad’s dark eyes. One of them has black hair like he does, too, while the other is a brunette. I didn’t attach names to faces because I was struck by the fact that one of them is older than I am. I’m guessing the younger one is Estella, then, if she’s still in college. She’s the brunette, I think. “She’s been home since before Christmas?”
Liza chuckles. “See what I mean? You didn’t even know she was here. She’s like a ghost these days, haunting my house.”
“Is she transferring to Becker?” I’m a local boy and graduated from there. It’s a pretty solid school, and their art program is damn good. 
Liza’s plastered against me, so I feel her stomach tighten and see her lips twitch. She’s trying not to laugh. Wow. “Oh, Daniel.” She lets out a little snort that makes me grind my teeth. “No. Lou and I are really pushing her to go back to Wellesley, but it looks like she’s sitting out this semester—and of course, we’ve already paid for her housing and tuition.”
Which is probably about as much as she paid for her last facelift—pocket change considering her husband owns an industrial machinery company and is one of the wealthiest men in the state—but her tone says she’s still pissed about it. “What happened?”
“Estella has always been a little sensitive and shy, but now she’s simply refusing to do anything. Refusing to leave the house, actually.”
I frown. “Did something happen to her?”
Liza’s hand flaps against my chest. “I’ve asked her, but she denies it. And there’s no discussing it. She won’t listen at all.”
“But if she won’t leave the house … is she scared? Do you think someone hurt her?” I stare at the elaborate light fixture above us and think of my best friend Caleb’s sister. That girl has too many problems to count and requires a lot of therapy to keep her on the rails, and Liza’s daughter sounds a little like her. 
“It’s hard to tell with Estella. She’s very closed off. Hard to talk to.”
And Liza isn’t exactly the compassionate type. She’s pretty focused on how things affect her. “Are you getting her some kind of help?”
“I’ve tried,” Liza snaps before softening her tone. “I offered to take her to my own psychiatrist for a prescription, but she refused to consider it, even after Lou offered to buy her a Mercedes. It’s irrational. I’m almost at the end of my rope with her.” 
Liza’s expression changes slightly, and I think she’s trying to raise her eyebrows, but her forehead stays smooth and still, made perfect by Botox or whatever else she’s had done. She looks great, but it’s weird when her face doesn’t quite move like it should. “She’s the most stubborn girl,” she continues. “Lou dotes on her, but even he doesn’t know what to do. She was a junior this year and we thought she was doing so well, but she came back for Christmas like a shell of herself. It was so embarrassing at our holiday party—everyone wanted to see her, but she refused to even come out and say hello!”
Jeez. It sounds like the girl had a total breakdown. “What are you going to do?”
She props herself on an elbow. “Actually,” she says, walking her fingers down my neck and across my collarbone. “I had an idea this morning.”
My eyes drift shut again as her touch dips lower, right down the center of my chest to my stomach, waking my cock from its temporary slumber. “Hmm?”
Tingles of pleasure roll out in waves from my belly as her hand closes around me. “Well, you know how they say art is therapeutic?” She strokes me, and a few times is all it takes to have me hard and ready. She keeps talking, but I’m not really paying attention anymore.
“Yeah.” My fingers tighten on her shoulder. “Yeah, definitely.” My hips start to move as her grip tightens. She makes this amused sound and edges down my body, her tongue dipping into my belly button before traveling south. 
“I was thinking you might be able to help.” Her mouth closes around the tip of me, and everything goes tight. 
“Sure,” I gasp. I can’t remember what we’re talking about. “Whatever you need.” My fingers twist in her hair as she bobs up and down. She has me practically arching off the bed in less than a minute.
Unfortunately, that’s when she pulls back and looks up at me. “I want you to give Estella some art lessons.”
I freeze. “What? Oh …” 
She works on me for a few more minutes before teasing me again. “I’d pay you well. This would be outside the commission agreement.”
“Umm.” Wait, what’s she saying? “Could you …” She’s still stroking me. I can’t think straight.
“I want Estella to express herself. Maybe draw or paint a few things and work out whatever’s going on with her. Then maybe we can get her on the right track and back to Wellesley. You could help her.” 
“Help … Estella?” I start to say something else, but Liza’s tongue slides over me and I groan instead.
“Yes,” she whispers, blowing cool air across my wet skin, making me jerk. “And if you do a good job, I’ll be recommending you to all my friends.”
“Sounds good.” I’m trying to guide her mouth back to where I want it. Words. She’s saying too many words right now.
She lets out a huff of laughter. “You can start tomorrow. Ten should be ideal. I’ll make sure she’s expecting you.”
“Mmmhmm. Sure. Good.” 
Her grin is laced with triumph. Then she bows her head over me again.
She’s too busy to say anything else for a good long while.


I take a quick shower in the enormous marble bathroom before slapping on my clothes and kissing Liza, who’s napping on the bed. She gives me a sleepy smile and reaches for her purse on the bedside table, and I kiss her again as she slips me three hundred. I look down at it, wondering how I earned the extra, and she says, “Payment in advance for tomorrow.”
Shit. Now that I’m not horny, I’m remembering our conversation. Private art lessons for her crazy recluse of a daughter. My dick has gotten me into a lot of stupid situations, but this one might be the worst. “Liza …”
She slides out another hundred and hands it to me. “See you at ten. You know the way out?”
“Uh-huh.” Arguing is pointless, especially if she’s going to pay me this well. She’s just covered my monthly car payment and groceries for a few weeks. “See you.”
I grab my sketchbook and coat from the floor and exit her bedroom, walking toward the central section of the house. Her husband, Lou, who I’ve met at a couple of gallery shows and always has a glass of scotch in his hand, won’t be home until late. The guy’s never here, so Liza pretty much does whatever she wants without worrying about being caught. 
I walk past a few pieces of art by people I know—one of Markus’s sculptures is on a small pedestal in the sunken family room. Liza bought the piece from him during their affair last year. She’s commissioned something from Caleb as well—a small painting for her library, she said—but that comes with no sexual strings attached, because Caleb doesn’t play this game. He’s crazy in love with his girlfriend, Romy, and he won’t do anything to mess that up. I’d say he’s missing out, but Caleb’s on the sensitive side. Not like me.
As I pass the guest wing, a door clicks shut and my heart jolts. A girl in black yoga pants is standing a few feet away. Her dark tunic shirt has white powder marks on it, and she’s clutching a book to her chest, staring at me with big, dark eyes. She’s only a few inches shorter than I am, and considering that I’m six-two, that’s saying something. Her long, straight brown hair hangs over her shoulder. She looks about twenty or so, but she’s got purplish circles beneath her eyes that make her look a little older. 
“Hi,” I say.
She takes a step backward. “Hi. Sorry—who are you?” Her voice is a little raspy. 
“My name’s Daniel.”
“What are you doing here?”
I raise my eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
Her posture stiffens. “I live here.”
“You must be Estella.”
She blinks and mumbles something, and suddenly I wonder if I’m wrong. “Didn’t quite catch that,” I say.
“Stella. I prefer Stella,” she says a little louder. “I hate being called Estella. Or Stell.”
“Fair enough. I hate being called Danny. Or Dan. Or Danielle.” 
The corners of her mouth twitch, and I stare. Liza’s crazy daughter is actually kind of interesting to look at. Not hot in the way I’m normally attracted to, but … definitely not boring. 
“What are you reading, Stella?”
She bows her head over her book. “Anna Karenina.”
“Any good?” I’ve never read it.
She shrugs. “It’s about a woman who slowly has an emotional and psychological breakdown under the weight of society’s expectations.”
I let out a laugh. “Sorry. That sounds kind of morbid.”
“No, not at all. It’s a comedy. Pretty light and funny. You should check it out sometime.”
I can’t look away from her eyes, and that saves me from being snowed. The spark of mischief in their dark depths gives her away. “Maybe I will. I bet it has a happy ending, too?”
She presses her lips together and nods solemnly. Totally straight face. “The happiest. A perfect read if you’re feeling depressed.” She tilts her head like she’s just realizing something. “You still haven’t said why you’re in my house.” 
She glances down the hallway toward her mother’s bedroom at the very end, and there’s a subtle change in her expression that tells me her brain is working at light speed. Her grip on the book tightens like she’s planning to hit me with it if I get too close. Most girls do the opposite—maybe it’s that I’m easy on the eyes, or they like the tat, the tips of which peek out of the collar of my shirt, or maybe I give off the right pheromones or whatever. I have no idea, but it certainly helps in getting things I want. But this girl? Her gaze is full of challenge. And more than a little fear. 
I smile. “You’re right. I didn’t say why I was here.” I’m not going to confirm her suspicion that I was just in bed with her mom, and I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell her I’m showing up tomorrow to be her art teacher. If she says no, what the hell am I supposed to do then? I need this money. “Have a great day.”
I wave and head for the door. When I get to the huge, arched entryway, I look back. Stella’s peeking out of her hallway, staring after me. Good. Hopefully when Liza breaks the news, Stella will be intrigued. 
I know I am.

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the blog tour for ONLY BETWEEN US and the upcoming release of ANYTHING BETWEEN US, we're giving away four paperback sets of the Starving Artists series!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS  |  Open to internationally. Four winners will each receive a paperback set of Only Between Us, Everything Between Us, and Anything Between Us by Sarah Fine.  This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Sarah Fine.  Giveaway ends 7/27/2019 @ 11:59pm EST. 

Author Info 
SARAH FINE is the author of several books for teens, including Of Metal and Wishes (McElderry/Simon & Schuster) and its sequel, Of Dreams and Rust, the bestselling Guards of the Shadowlands YA urban fantasy series (Skyscape/Amazon Children’s Publishing), and The Impostor Queen (McElderry, January 2016).

She is also the co-author (with Walter Jury) of two YA sci-fi thrillers published by Putnam/Penguin: Scan and its sequel Burn. Her bestselling adult urban fantasy romance series, Servants of Fate, includes Marked, Claimed, and Fated, and was published by 47North in 2015, and her second adult UF series —Reliquary (and its sequels Splinter and Mosaic) was published 2016. When she’s not writing, she’s psychologizing. Sometimes she does both at the same time. The results are unpredictable.
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