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Review & Excerpt Tour for Laura Kaye’s HARD EVER AFTER


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We are over the moon excited to bring you the    Review & Excerpt Tour for

Laura Kaye’s HARD EVER AFTER, a novella in Laura’s New York Times and USA Today bestselling Hard Ink Series

Releasing February 2, 2016! Grab your copy of the amazing final book in the Hard Ink Series today!

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Winter Blog Blurb

Justice served. Honor restored. Team reunited. After a long battle to discover the truth, the men and women of Hard Ink have a lot to celebrate, especially the wedding of two of their own—Nick Rixey and Becca Merritt, whose hard-fought love deserves a happy ending.

As Nick and the team shift from crisis mode to building their new security consulting firm, Becca heads back to work at the ER. But amid the everyday chaos of demanding jobs and their upcoming nuptials, an old menace they thought long gone reemerges, threatening the peace they’ve only just found.

Now, for one last time, Nick and Becca must fight for their always and forever, because they know that when true love overcomes all the odds it lasts hard ever after.

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Winter Blog Review

Laura’s readers voted for who would have their wedding in this book. Nick and Becca won even though we wanted all of them to get married in this one.

Becca has to return to work and Nick doesn’t want to let her go. They have been together everyday for so long that normal, just doesn’t seem normal anymore. Before she starts her day she asks Nick to tattoo her after work. Nick takes that ball and runs with it, she is getting more than just a tattoo that night.

Memories of Tyrell Woodson’s attempt to abduct her hit her as she was leaving for the day. A tall, bald nursing assistant named Ben startled her. Not Woodson, just bald like him, no tattoos. She was okay. He wasn’t there.

Nick’s proposal had me in tears, as did seeing all the Hard Ink gang together again, celebrating something that means a future.

I laughed when the choose the venue for the wedding with a date just three weeks away, you know what people are going to think about that.

Nothing every comes easy for any of these wonderful folks. So I got really concerned when Becca started seeing and not seeing Woodson. Recognizing her own PTSD from that incident was a big step forward, but was it only that? One of the scariest and emotional scenes is in the excerpt below.

I did a lot of crying in this one as well as laugh at the antics of planning a wedding on short notice. I hate that this is the last of the Hard Ink books. I love this crew Beckett, Marz, Shane, Easy, Charlie, Jeremy, Kat, Emily, Sara, Jenna and of course Nick and Becca. There are a few surprises in store for us as well, thank you Laura!

The unfailing love and devotion to each other. The dedication of the team, it’s all there. Family.

I hope we will see them visit in Laura’s new series with the Raven’s MC coming soon.

5 Contented Purrs for Laura!

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Winter Blog excerpt

Nick nailed Becca with a stare. As he watched, she made a valiant effort to button up just how upset she was, and that made him worry even more. He knelt down in front of her, his hands on her knees. “What’s going on?” She shook her head, and his heart fucking broke as he saw her struggle to find her voice and hold back the tears.

Kat grasped something from Becca’s lap and held it out to him. “Someone left this in front of Becca’s locker at work today.”

Frowning, Nick accepted the small, floppy, black-and-brown stuffed animal into his hand. He guessed it was supposed to be a German shepherd, and the damn thing was missing a leg. It looked like someone had cut the back leg off and stapled the opening closed. What the hell?

“Look at the neck, Nick,” Kat said, her voice serious.

He flipped it around, and that was when he noticed that the animal was so floppy because the head was connected to the body only by a thin strip of material along the back. He might not have thought much about that if someone hadn’t gone to the trouble of spray painting the torn opening red. As if the neck had been slit. “Sonofabitch,” he said, hot prickles running down his back. “Talk to me, Sunshine.”

She heaved a deep breath. “I found it at the end of my shift,” she said. “I went to get my stuff, and this was sitting upright on the floor in front of my locker. I thought someone had left me a present until . . .”

“This is fucking twisted,” Kat bit out.

The words echoed Nick’s own thoughts. Twisted and threatening. The removed leg was clearly meant to communicate that the person knew Becca’s dog had only three legs, which made the threat personal and specific.

“Did you talk to security about this?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice even.

Becca shook her head. “I was so freaked out, I just wanted to get out of there.”

“I didn’t know about this until just now, or I would’ve brought us home earlier,” Kat said.

“I’m sorry,” Becca said, turning to Nick’s sister. “I just wanted to forget about it for a few hours.”

“I know,” Kat said. “You don’t have to apologize, but I’m worried about this.”

Nick nodded. “Can you think of anyone at the hospital who would do this? Who would have a problem with you?”

Winter Blog About Author

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Laura Kaye

 

 

 

Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty books in contemporary and paranormal romance and romantic suspense, including the Hard Ink and upcoming Raven Riders series. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. She lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and cute-but-bad dog, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

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Laura Kaye’s HARD EVER AFTER – Follow the Tour

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The Witch of Painted Sorrows – A New Release from M.J. Rose


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We are absolutely captivated by THE WITCH OF PAINTED SORROWS and so excited to bring you the Release Day Launch for M.J. Rose’s amazing new novel. THE WITCH OF PAINTED SORROWS is a historical gothic romantic suspense published by Atria, an imprint of Simon & Schuster. Check out the excerpt below, buy a copy for yourself (and a friend!), then check out the giveaway M.J. Rose is holding to celebrate the release!!

 

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Excerpt:

Four months ago I snuck into Paris on a wet, chilly January night like a criminal, hiding my face in my shawl, taking extra care to be sure I wasn’t followed.

I stood on the stoop of my grandmother’s house and lifted the hand-shaped bronze door knocker and let it drop. The sound of the metal echoed inside. Her home was on a lane blocked off from rue des Saints-Pères by wide wooden double doors. Maison de la Lune, as it was called, was one of a half dozen four-story mid-eighteenth- century stone houses that shared a courtyard that backed up onto rue du Dragon.

I let the door knocker fall again. Light from a street lamp glinted off the golden metal. It was a strange object. Usually on these things the bronze hand’s palm faced the door. But this one was palm out, almost warning the visitor to reconsider requesting entrance.

The knocker had obsessed me ten years before when I’d visited as a fifteen-year-old. The engravings on the finely modeled female palm included etched stars, phases of the moon, planets, and other archaic symbols. When I’d asked about it once, my grandmother had said it was older than the house, but she didn’t know how old exactly or what the ciphers meant. Where was the maid? Grand-mère, one of Paris’s celebrated courtesans, hosted lavish salons on Tuesday, Thursday, and many Saturday evenings, and at this time of day was usually upstairs, preparing her toilette: dusting poudre de riz on her face and décolletage, screwing in her opale de feu earrings, and wrapping her signature rope of the same blazing orange stones around her neck. The strand of opal beads was famous. It had belonged to a Russian empress and was known as Les Incendies. The stones were the same color as my grandmother’s hair and the high- lights in her topaz eyes. She was known by that name—L’Incendie, they called her, The Fire.

We had the same color eyes, but mine almost never flashed like hers. When I was growing up, I kept checking in the mirror, hoping the opal sparks that I only saw occasionally would intensify. I wanted to be just like her, but my father said it was just as well my eyes weren’t on fire because it wasn’t only her coloring that had inspired her name but also her temper, and that wasn’t a thing to covet.

It wasn’t until I was fifteen years old and witnessed it myself that I understood what he’d meant.

I let the hand of fate fall again. Even if Grand-mère was upstairs and couldn’t hear the knocking, the maid would be downstairs, organizing the refreshments for the evening. I’d seen her so many nights, polishing away last smudges on the silver, holding the Baccarat glasses over a pot of steaming water and then wiping them clean to make sure they gleamed.

Dusk had descended. The air had grown cold, and now it was beginning to rain. Fat, heavy drops dripped onto my hat and into my eyes. And I had no umbrella. That’s when I did what I should have done from the start—I stepped back and looked up at the house.

The darkened windows set into the limestone facade indicated there were no fires burning and no lamps lit inside. My grandmother was not in residence. And neither, it appeared, was her staff. I almost wished the concierge had needed to open the porte cochère for me; he might have been able to tell me where my grandmother was.

For days now I had managed to keep my sanity only by thinking of this moment. All I had to do, I kept telling myself, was find my way here, and then together, my grandmother and I could mourn my father and her son, and she would help me figure out what I should do now that I had run away from New York City.

If she wasn’t here, where was I to go? I had other family in Paris, but I had no idea where they lived. I’d only met them here, at my grandmother’s house, when I’d visited ten years previously. I had no friends in the city.

The rain was soaking through my clothes. I needed to find shelter.

But where? A restaurant or café? Was there one nearby? Or should I try and find a hotel? Which way should I go to get a carriage? Was it even safe to walk alone here at night?

What choice did I have?

Picking up my suitcase, I turned, but before I could even step into the courtyard, I saw an advancing figure. A bedraggled-looking man, wearing torn and filthy brown pants and an overcoat that had huge, bulging pockets, staggered toward me. Every step he took rang out on the stones.

He’s just a beggar who intends no harm, I told myself. He’s just look- ing for scraps of food, for a treasure in the garbage he’d be able to sell.

But what if I was wrong? Alone with him in the darkening court- yard, where could I go? In my skirt and heeled boots, could I even outrun him?

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Make sure you visit M.J. Rose’s website to enter to win this gorgeous necklace to celebrate her release!

 

THE WITCH OF PAINTED SORROWS Synopsis:

Possession. Power. Passion. New York Times bestselling novelist M. J. Rose creates her most provocative and magical spellbinder yet in this gothic novel set against the lavish spectacle of 1890s Belle Époque Paris.

Sandrine Salome flees New York for her grandmother’s Paris mansion to escape her dangerous husband, but what she finds there is even more menacing. The house, famous for its lavish art collection and elegant salons, is mysteriously closed up. Although her grandmother insists it’s dangerous for Sandrine to visit, she defies her and meets Julien Duplessi, a mesmerizing young architect. Together they explore the hidden night world of Paris, the forbidden occult underground and Sandrine’s deepest desires.

Among the bohemians and the demi-monde, Sandrine discovers her erotic nature as a lover and painter. Then darker influences threaten–her cold and cruel husband is tracking her down and something sinister is taking hold, changing Sandrine, altering her. She’s become possessed byLa Lune: A witch, a legend, and a sixteenth-century courtesan, who opens up her life to a darkness that may become a gift or a curse

This is Sandrine’s “wild night of the soul,” her odyssey in the magnificent city of Paris, of art, love, and witchery.

 

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“Haunting tale of possession.” —Publishers Weekly

“Rose’s new series offers her specialty, a unique and captivating supernatural angle, set in an intriguing belle epoque Paris — lush descriptions, intricate plot and mesmerizing storytelling. Sensual, evocative, mysterious and haunting.” —Kirkus

“Mixes reality and illusion, darkness and light, mystery and romance into an adult fairy tale. [Rose] stirs her readers curiosities and imaginations, opening their eyes to the cultural, intellectual and artistic excitement that marked the Belle Epoque period. Unforgettable, full-bodied characters and richly detailed narrative result in an entrancing read that will be long savored.”—Library Journal (Starred Review)

 

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Author photoAbout M.J. Rose:

New York Times Bestseller, M.J. Rose grew up in New York City mostly in the labyrinthine galleries of the Metropolitan Museum, the dark tunnels and lush gardens of Central Park and reading her mother’s favorite books before she was allowed. She believes mystery and magic are all around us but we are too often too busy to notice… books that exaggerate mystery and magic draw attention to it and remind us to look for it and revel in it.

Rose’s work has appeared in many magazines including Oprah Magazine and she has been featured in the New York Times, Newsweek, WSJ, Time, USA Today and on the Today Show, and NPR radio. Rose graduated from Syracuse University, spent the ’80s in advertising, has a commercial in the Museum of Modern Art in NYC and since 2005 has run the first marketing company for authors – Authorbuzz.com

The television series PAST LIFE, was based on Rose’s novels in the Reincarnationist series. She is one of the founding board members of International Thriller Writers and currently serves, with Lee Child, as the organization’s co-president.

Rose lives in CT with her husband the musician and composer, Doug Scofield, and their very spoiled and often photographed dog, Winka.

 

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