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Tuesday 26 June 2018

RELEASE BLITZ - Whiskey Girl by Adriane Leigh

RELEASE BLITZ
Title: Whiskey Girl
Author: Adriane Leigh
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 26, 2018
 
BLURB

She was the one thing holding him together. Until she was gone.
And then there was whiskey.
 
Fallon Gentry has spent the last decade reliving one dark night in his head. The moment he lost the woman he loved when a single blink cascaded into a series of events that stole both of their lives. Now his nights are spent playing music in southern honky-tonks and nursing the memory of her the only way he knows how–at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

A brief stint in Nashville, a hit song, and a brush with Hollywood couldn't bring him closer to God, but when the ghost of Augusta Belle Branson appears in his corner of another lonely dive bar late after dark, he's forced to confront everything he thought he knew about that fateful night, and a few things he didn't.

He’s her contradiction, she’s his salvation.
 
A firestorm of emotion consumes them when they come together after ten lost years, every moment more revealing, more unpredictable, more intoxicating than the next until the only reckoning left for Fallon is the one he must make with himself. But this time, fate may have left an after-burn too bitter to swallow. This time, he may lose his whiskey girl for good.


An unforgettable, epic love story about two lost souls who, against all odds, find themselves through their passion and music. Filled with raw emotion, this lyrical, all-the-feels masterpiece may catapult Adriane Leigh into the league of Colleen Hoover, Brittainy Cherry, and L.J. Shen. — Nelle L'Amour, New York Times Bestselling author of THAT MAN


GOODREADS LINK: 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39934527-whiskey-girl 


PURCHASE LINKS

US: 
https://amzn.to/2ym5QpK
UK: https://amzn.to/2ymohef
CA: https://amzn.to/2yo7Hub
AU: https://amzn.to/2M3Uvwz
B&N: http://bit.ly/2M3LNOR
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2t9yRA2
iBooks: https://apple.co/2JWVgHm


EXCERPT

One

Fallon 
The first time I met Augusta Belle Branson, she was fixin’ on killin’ herself.
Said the minute I’d walked up, she was tryin’ to decide if jumpin’ off the bridge in the center—where the water was deep and the current stronger—would be a swifter end, or if she should jump near the edge, where jagged limestone slabs anchored the slow-moving current.
Certain death for sure.
I replayed the split second when the Indian summer sun burst through the orange oak leaves, a halo of warmth enveloping her.
Like an angel. Stardust sparkling straight from heaven, ploppin’ her in my path.
And then she turned, the most startling shade of liquid amber eyes breathing something real and alive, like fire, into my soul.
That same something I’d been runnin’ from—or chasin’, dependin’ on how you looked at it—just about every day since.
I settled myself on the lone wooden stool that awaited at center stage, my thoughts drawing back to the present. My head swam, but the old familiar chords floated on through the current of whiskey in my blood, and I strummed the first few notes of a song I wrote a lot of nights ago by an act of sheer muscle memory.
Old acoustic guitar resting on my knee, my first and third fingers in position on the strings, the opening chords of “Whiskey Girl” bled from my fingers.
Every chord, another dagger.
Every whispered lyric, my undoing.
I still didn’t know what the fuck had overtaken me the night I’d written this song in a fevered rush.
Well, the booze might have played a part, but I happened to think my best shit came out of uninhibited states.
I’d just had a fuckton of uninhibited states recently.
And the harder the liquor, the more she haunted me.
Whiskey Girl.
My poisoned lullaby.
The crowd of a few hundred erupted into a standing ovation when I ended with the final, emotion-charged words.
The irony of this song was it was the one that’d launched my career. The first single to hit radio waves and then the top spot on the Billboard charts, and brought reporters, music executives, long-lost family members I wasn’t even really sure I was related to, and too much other scum with an end game that carried dollar signs to my front doorstep.
I’d moved to Nashville a rising star and left two years later, middle finger in the air as I tossed my once-promising music career out with last night’s liquor bottles in favor of the open road.
Chasing something.
Not finding the one thing I needed.
Playing local honky-tonks for a fraction of the money I could have made.
But the truth was, the road was the only place I could find my happy.
A familiar ball of pain formed in my throat as I stood, pushing my guitar over one shoulder and bowing deeply. I couldn’t see a single face behind the glaring stage lights, but still, some part of me pretended she could be out there, that I was singing to her.
That she would hear her song and find her way back to me.
After hundreds of faceless crowds and too many bottles of Tennessee whiskey to bother counting, I still felt the pull inside me to travel to every town in America if that’s what it took to find her.
Hell, maybe she was happily married with a few kids, a dog, and a fucking minivan by now.
I nodded my head, giving one last wave to the crowd in the dark beyond, then left the stage, taking the steps two at a time and angling past the curtains to head for the tiny-ass dressing room this dive bar provided. Heading for another chug of amber gold before packing my shit into my truck and hitting the road.
I pushed a hand through my hair, thinking maybe a shower would be in order before I bailed, when a curvy little thing backed right up into me.
My palms landed on her shoulders, warm blond waves falling in a cascade over one side. The heady scent of peaches and honey filled my nostrils. My eyes slammed closed and brought me back to summer nights under a giant oak, fireflies melding together with the stars above like a painting.
“Sorry, I just dropped my phone.” The sweet-scented creature spun, brilliant smile falling from her face when our eyes made contact for the first time.
Every coldhearted memory slammed into my chest like a pallet of bricks.
I narrowed my eyes, gaze tracing the familiar yet unfamiliar angles of her porcelain face.
She was thinner now, cheeks sharp slashes of bone that highlighted her always-devastating round eyes and full lips. It was her, all right. I’d know this woman anywhere.
“Hi, Fallon.” I’d been dreamin’ of this moment for the better part of a decade, and still, my heart wasn’t prepared for those two words. My name on her lips left me with a toxic reaction.
My whiskey girl.
My damnation and my salvation.
“I need a fucking minute.” I dropped my hands from her shoulders, her skin still haunting my fingertips, and walked straight down the narrow hallway, pushing the rusted back door open so hard the hinges protested.
Warm night air filled my lungs, replacing the empty feeling seeing her again had left.
“Fallon…” Hell, she’d followed me out.
And hell if wanted her to, but I didn’t not want her to either.
The emotions bombarding my mind were just a-fucking-bout unbearable.
“I said I need a fucking minute.” The sentence came out as more of a growl than I intended. Before she could reply, I stomped across the potholed parking lot, aiming for my heavy-duty Ford.
I yanked the door open, digging behind the driver’s seat for a fresh bottle of my favorite recipe.
I couldn’t be bothered to retrieve the half-full bottle I’d left in my dressing room. I had to get as far the fuck away from her just to clear my head and process what her being here even meant.
My hands circled the neck of the bottle, and I opened it in a flash, chugging back the first warm bite of pleasure I’d been craving.
I tossed the cap on my dash and fished the keys out of my pocket, about to climb into the cab and make hay, when fingertips painted a dark navy filtered into my vision and back out again, my goddamn truck keys hanging from one finger.
“Fuck,” I bit out, crawling out of the cab and swiping for the keys.
My reactions were a helluva lot slower than I thought they were. How much of that bottle had I drunk before the show? I shook the thought from my head, realizing this was probably about close to my average state of play on any given day. Runnin’ away from the life Augusta Belle and I’d had took something out of me. Something only whiskey could fill.
“I don’t care what your stupid ass does on your own time, but you’re not dying on mine, Fallon Gentry.”
My head pounded then. A whole fucking sentence out of her pretty pink lips, and my body’s old dependable reaction to her infuriating every cell of me.
I’d never been in control when it came to Augusta. Shouldn’t have been surprised it was no different now.
“As irritating as ever, I see,” I said, swiping for my keys one more time and missing before I stumbled off around her, whiskey bottle clutched in my hand and hell on my mind.
Augusta was back, and there wasn’t enough whiskey in the state of Tennessee to help me deal.


AUTHOR BIO

Adriane Leigh is an Amazon Top 25 and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and erotic romance. Raised in a snowbank in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, she was born with a book in her hand and won her first Young Authors award before the age of ten. She finished her first romance novel at 14, and hasn't stopped playing with words since. She earned a literature degree, co-founded and organized international book conventions with RARE: Romance Author & Reader Events, and has written more than 45 independent titles under various pen names.

Married to her own Prince Charming, she now lives among the sand dunes of Lake Michigan, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She's a romantic rebel and word junkie that believes wanderlust is life, is part of the #goodvibetribe, and wishes she had more time to read and knit scarves to keep her cozy during the arctic Michigan winters. Yoga pants, puppies, and mac and cheese also help. Never miss a release! Get an alert at: 
http://www.adrianeleigh.com

Praise for Adriane's work:

“Sizzling chemistry, a glamorous world, plot twists…a perfect combination held together with Adriane Leigh’s addictive writing. I dove into this world, and didn’t want to come up for air. I can’t wait for more!” – Alessandra Torre, Hollywood Dirt

“Adriane Leigh never dissapoints with equal amounts of heat and heart with all the sex, suspense and scandal…Leigh’s newest mysterious hero will have you anxiously flipping pages well into the night trying to uncover his secrets.” – Jay Crownover, Marked Men


AUTHORS LINKS

Facebook: 
http://www.facebook.com/LaceSeries
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/adriane.leigh.writer
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AdrianeLeigh
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/LeighAdriane


GIVEAWAY 

There is a giveaway for a $25 Amazon gift card + paperback of Whiskey Girl (1 winner, open internationally)

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Direct Link: 
 

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Sunday 24 June 2018

RELEASE BLITZ- Save the Date by Carrie Aarons

RELEASE BLITZ
Title: Save the Date
Author: Carrie Aarons
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: June 24, 2018
 
BLURB

You know that pact you make with your childhood best friend of the opposite sex? The one where, if you’re both still single, lonely and hopeless at thirty, you’ll marry each other?

This is the story about what happens when you hit the big three-oh and have to make good on that pinky promise.

Personally, I think love, romance and all of that nonsense is a crock of, well, you know. And Reese Collins, the boy who used to put worms in my hair at backyard barbecues, knows that better than anyone.

But when he moves to the same city I’ve happily, and singly, inhabited for years, memories of oaths past resurface. Reese is like a dog with a bone; a really hot dog and that bone just happens to be me.

He won’t stop hounding me, and the crazy thing is, my frigid, traitorous heart is starting to cave. For my best friend.

It seems so far off, when you’re a kid playing Monopoly in your treehouse. But when that clock strikes midnight on your thirtieth birthday, and you’re standing alone in front of a grocery store-bought cupcake, a childhood deal to walk down the aisle doesn’t seem so silly anymore. 



GOODREADS LINK: 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40102257-save-the-date 


PURCHASE LINKS – 99c for release day ONLY! 

US: 
http://1click.bz/SavetheDateUS
UK: http://1click.bz/SavetheDateUK
CA: http://1click.bz/SavetheDateCA
AU: http://1click.bz/SavetheDateAU

Free in Kindle Unlimited


AUTHOR BIO

Author of romance novels such as Red Card and Privileged, Carrie Aarons writes sexy, swoony and sarcastic characters who won't get out of her head until she puts them down on a page.

Carrie has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book, and still can’t fathom that she gets to live her dream each and every day.

When she isn't in a writing coma, Carrie spends time Netflix-binging with her husband, snuggling her infant daughter, and chasing her black Lab through the dog parks of New Jersey.


AUTHOR LINKS

Website: 
http://www.authorcarrieaarons.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CarrieAarons
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/carriescharmers
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCarrieA
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1P556r9
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14160972.Carrie_Aarons

Friday 22 June 2018

RELEASE BLITZ - Family Ties by Stephie Walls

RELEASE BLITZ
Title: Family Ties
Author: Stephie Walls
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 21, 2018
 
BLURB

With a history like ours, the meaning of the word family tended to tangle into something unrecognizable. DNA and bloodlines didn’t tie us together, and neither did our last names. Various shades of grey blurred the branches of our twisted family tree.

I wasn’t her brother.
They weren’t my parents.
Not that it mattered…

She was off limits.

Portia was my friend.
Then my foster sister.
And she’d always be the love of my life.


GOODREADS LINK: 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39725038-family-ties


PURCHASE LINKS

US: 
http://1click.bz/FamilyTiesUS
UK: http://1click.bz/FamilyTiesUK
CA: http://1click.bz/FamilyTiesCA
AU: http://1click.bz/FamilyTiesAU

Free in Kindle Unlimited


AUTHOR BIO

Stephie Walls is a lover of words—the more poetic the better. She lives on the outskirts of Greenville, South Carolina in her own veritable zoo with two dogs, three cats, the Mister, and Magoo (in no preferential order).

She would live on coffee, books, and Charlie Hunnam if it were possible, but since it’s not, add in some Chinese food or sushi and she’s one happy girl.


AUTHOR LINKS

Website: 
http://www.stephiewalls.com
Facebook: 
http://www.facebook.com/stephiewalls2014
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1785152491767338
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stephiewalls
Twitter: https://twitter.com/StephieWalls
Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/stephiewalls
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8126412.Stephie_Walls
Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2rwxvkc
Bookbub: http://www.bookbub.com/authors/stephie-walls


GIVEAWAY 

There is a giveaway for a $10 Amazon gift card + a signed paperback of Family Ties

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Direct Link: 
 

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba3ffd551867

Wednesday 20 June 2018

RELEASE BLITZ - Crazy Stupid Love by K.L. Grayson

RELEASE BLITZ
Title: Crazy Stupid Love
A Dirty Dicks Standalone Novel
Author: K.L. Grayson
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 20, 2018
 
BLURB

There’s a special place in hell for a man like me—a man who shamelessly sleeps with his best friend’s little sister, knowing he’ll never be what she needs. A man who takes because the only thing he has to offer in return is a broken past that’s destined to destroy his future.

I was the kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks with shit parents and clothes that had been handed down one too many times. I stole to feed my sister, fought to protect her, and I’ll always be the guy your parents don’t want you to bring home.

So yeah, that’s me. Lincoln Bennett. Adley Allen’s walk on the wild side. Her dirty little secret. And I’m okay with that—ninety-nine percent of the time. Unfortunately today is in that one percent when it doesn’t sit well with me. For some strange reason, I want to be around to celebrate all of Adley’s successes. I want to be here when she gets her first job and take her out to dinner after her first shift. I want to be the one she depends on, the person she calls when she has a bad day. Or a great day. Or any kind of day.

I want more than her body. I want her heart. But men like me don’t get women like her.

At least not to keep.


GOODREADS LINK: 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38214818-crazy-stupid-love 


PURCHASE LINKS – $2.99 for a limited time

US: 
https://amzn.to/2JYgmbB
UK: https://amzn.to/2tjtc9V
CA: https://amzn.to/2tdQTkX
AU: https://amzn.to/2tkrW6i

Free in Kindle Unlimited


ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE STANDALONE DIRTY DICKS SERIES

Crazy Sexy Love 

US: 
http://amzn.to/2FmTmRW
UK: http://amzn.to/2IcSahU
CA: http://amzn.to/2tsPTvM
AU: http://amzn.to/2FkRMQp

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Crazy Hot Love 

US: 
https://amzn.to/2Kn2Lb0
UK: https://amzn.to/2jfCU8C
CA: https://amzn.to/2ra69xi
AU: https://amzn.to/2r680E7

Free in Kindle Unlimited


AUTHOR BIO 

K.L. Grayson resides in a small town outside of St. Louis, MO.  She is entertained daily by her extraordinary husband, who will forever inspire every good quality she writes in a man.  Her entire life rests in the palms of six dirty little hands, and when the day is over and those pint-sized cherubs have been washed and tucked into bed, you can find her typing away furiously on her computer.  She has a love for alpha-males, brownies, reading, tattoos, sunglasses, and happy endings…and not particularly in that order.


AUTHOR LINKS

Facebook: 
https://www.facebook.com/BooksbyKLGrayson
Twitter: 
https://twitter.com/authorklgrayson
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/booksbyklgrayson
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/booksbyklgrayso

Thursday 14 June 2018

Elisabeth Naughton’s SURRENDER – Review & Excerpt Tour




From New York Times Bestselling author Elisabeth Naughton, comes SURRENDER, a new novella in her House of Sin Series, brought to you by 1,001 Dark Nights! Be sure to grab your copy today!


About SURRENDER:

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Elisabeth Naughton comes a new story in her House of Sin series…
The leaders of my House want her dead.
The men I’ve secretly aligned myself with want her punished for screwing up their coup.
I’ve been sent by both to deal with her, but one look at the feisty redhead and I’ve got plans of my own.
Before I carry out anyone else’s orders, she’s going to give me what I want. And only when I’m satisfied will I decide if she lives or dies.
Depending, of course, on just how easily she surrenders…


Buy Links:




EXCERPT:

I glanced over the masked couples and frowned as I sipped my drink. “Afraid to say, it’s really
not all that exciting from where I’m sitting, though.”
She smirked and lifted her glass to her lips. “And what do you find exciting, Mr. Garcia?”
Blood rolled through my veins and gathered in my groin as I pinned my eyes on her. “Very
proper British women who eye-fuck strangers across the room and act shocked and dismayed
when they’re called out for it.”
For a heartbeat, she didn’t respond, then slowly swallowed what was left in her glass and turned
my way. “I wouldn’t dream of appearing shocked and dismayed.”
She stepped in close, and I realized she was much more petite than I’d originally assumed. Even
in her four-inch heels, she had to push to her toes so I could feel her breath against my skin.
And holy hell, did I feel it. She breathed so hot over the scruff on my jaw, a blistering need
whipped through my body, making me hard in a heartbeat. “And if I was really interested, Mr.
Garcia, trust me. I wouldn’t be doing something as boring as eye-f*cking you from across the
room.” The scent of gardenia melded with the whisky on her breath when she lowered her voice
to a sultry note and added, “I’d be dragging you into a back room and literally f*cking that dirty
mind right out of you.”
Holy mother of God...
She lowered to her heels, pinned me with a steamy look mixed with a hefty dose of trouble, and
took the glass from my hand. Tipping it back, she swallowed the last mouthful without breaking
eye contact, then set my empty glass on the bar. “Mm. You were right. That was good.”
She pushed away and wove through the crowd. Blood pumping hard, I looked after her, unable
to do anything more than stare at her sexy ass and those gorgeous legs.
F*ck. Me. I was as hard as stone and even more determined to make that little siren surrender to
me. Screw what my House wanted. Screw what my associates wanted. I had to have her.
I would have her one way or another.
Tonight.

SURRENDER Trailer:

Embedded Code:

ABOUT ELISABETH NAUGHTON:


Elisabeth Naughton is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. From Elisabeth: “I was never one of those people who knew they wanted to be an author at the age of six. I didn’t have imaginary friends. I didn’t write stories in my journal or entertain my relatives by firelight after Thanksgiving dinner. For the most part, I was just a normal, everyday kid. I liked to read, but I wasn’t exceptional at it. And when my teachers complimented me on my writing abilities, I brushed them off. I did, however, always have a penchant for the unique and absurd. And as my mother told me all throughout my childhood, I should have been an actress—I was a drama queen before my time.
“Years ago, my husband bought me Scarlett: The Sequel to Gone With The Wind. If you ever saw the book, you know it’s a long one. I sat and read that thing from cover to cover, and dreamed of one day being a writer. But I didn’t actually try my hand at writing until years later when I quit my teaching job to stay home with my kids. And my husband? After that week of reading where I neglected him and everything else until I finished Scarlett, he vowed never to buy me another book again. Little did he know I’d one day end up sitting at a keyboard all day drafting my own stories.
“My writing journey has not been easy. I didn’t just sit down one day, decide I was going to write a book and voila! sell my very first attempt. As most authors will probably agree, the path to publication is filled with hours of work, pulling all-nighters I thought I’d given up in college, sacrifices, rejections, but a love I discovered along the way I just can’t live without. Instead of a big, thick book to read by lamplight (I do read much smaller ones when I get the chance), I’ve traded in my reading obsession for a laptop. And I’ve never been happier.
“I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a wonderful family and fabulous husband who put up with my writing—and obsessive personality—even when life is chaotic. More than once my kids have been late to swimming or baseball because I needed just five more minutes to finish a scene. Their support and encouragement mean the world to me. I also have amazing friends and a support network I couldn’t survive without. So to all of you out there who have encouraged me along the way, sent me emails and fan letters, phone calls and congratulations, I just want to say, thank you. You make this whole writing gig that much more enjoyable. I truly wouldn’t be here without you.”

Wednesday 13 June 2018

Blog Tour: A Wish For Us by Tillie Cole

























From the author who brought you A Thousand Boy Kisses comes the new emotional novel, A Wish For Us.
A story of music. A story of healing. A story of love conquering all.



Nineteen-year-old Cromwell Dean is the rising star of electronic dance music. Thousands of people adore him. But no one knows him. No one sees the color of his heart.

Until the girl in the purple dress. She sees through the walls he has built to the empty darkness within.

When Cromwell leaves behind the gray skies of England to study music in the South Carolina heat, the last thing he expects is to see her again. And he certainly doesn’t expect that she’ll stay in his head like a song on repeat.

Bonnie Farraday lives for music. She lets every note into her heart, and she doesn’t understand how someone as talented as Cromwell can avoid doing the same. He’s hiding from his past, and she knows it. She tries to stay away from him, but something keeps calling her back.

Bonnie is the burst of color in Cromwell’s darkness. He’s the beat that makes her heart skip.

But when a shadow falls over Bonnie, it’s up to Cromwell to be her light, in the only way he knows how. He must help her find the lost song in her fragile heart. He must keep her strong with a symphony only he can compose.

A symphony of hope.
A symphony of love.
A symphony of them.

BUY LINKS:

Goodreads - http://bit.ly/2HIqAMM




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.”







Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

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