just Jack by K.L. Shandwick!

Being Lily Parnell’s best friend was effortless for Jack. Growing up together, Jack loved Lily and was fiercely protective of her and for most of his life all he wanted was to make her happy. When she was happy he was happy, except Lily lived a world away from him now and Jack missed her dreadfully. As far as Jack was concerned there had never been a time in their lives where they hadn’t shared everything. In recent years Lily’s ambitions took her overseas and even with an ocean between them, Jack still managed to support his best friend. One day things changed everything between them and their relationship began to shift. Lily was carving her own life and after observing a scene involving her, it made Jack take a close look at his own. Feeling confused, Jack decided to take a difficult decision never realising the potential fallout from doing something he felt was the right thing at the time. With his life laid bare Jack and as a simple, uncomplicated guy he thought he had things finally figured out. Women loved Jack and they came and went in his life apart from Lily. She was always there, until one day she wasn’t. Jack felt betrayed and abandoned by the one person who he thought he could rely on no matter what. During his journey from that moment on Jack faced more separation and loss than he could ever have imagined how would it shape him both as a man and can he forgive her?
Excerpt:-
Rick cracked the door open and padded through it hacking a cough and reaching for the mini-bar. “Mornin’ Lothario.” He croaked in my direction without making eye contact, reading the labels.
Chuckling loudly, there was just no way I was going to live down that after party Mark was talking about, but when I took in the sight of him I couldn’t help but throw a come-back at him.
Did your mother send you that get up, or are the pyjamas supposed to turn the women in your room off enough to leave?”
Rick looked down and smirked at the wine coloured paisley patterned silk pyjama bottoms he was wearing.
Waving his hand at the chair for me to sit down he pulled a glass and poured himself a miniature of gin and a small bottle of tonic water into it. “Long story.”
“Can’t wait.” My hurried comment was followed up with a wide grin as I settled back in the chair with one leg crossed over the other, my ankle resting on my knee.
“Allergy. I’ve got a rash from the starch on the hotel sheets the other night.”
As soon as he said that I knew he was going to regret it and I could see from the startled look on his face he’d been caught off guard and didn’t mean to be so open about it. He knew he’d walked right into something that I’d use against him, even if I was managing to keep my face straight.
“A rash?” I couldn’t keep the humour out of my voice, and there was even the hint of a breakthrough giggle in those two words.
Rick stared pointedly at me as if to say, “Laugh and tear you a new one,” but my sense of humour just overrode any potential fall-out consequences he may have been planning.
“That’s a bit like saying I got pregnant from the sheets, Rick. Don’t you think you’re more likely to have caught something from one of the women in your bed than the sheets? Or don’t you want to believe that just in case you get pussy-fright?
Rick threw the lid of the gin bottle at me and it bounced off my forehead but by that time I was chuckling loudly. “Laugh all you want, I’m allergic to starch. So they got me these from the hotel store because I needed something to make sure I was protected in bed. It was fucking murder trying to play with the itch in my pants the night before last.”
“Most guys wear condoms for protection, Rick not theatrical pyjamas.”
Rick was being deadly serious but the more he spoke the more uncontrollable my laughing became until he stood up and pulled them down to show me the red welts on his legs, his dick at eye level with me. Just as he did this, the door opened and the two girls he had in his bed came through the door.
Turning my head to look at them, I was still stifling a grin. Rick was true to form and had two classic groupies for his sleepover, skinny girls with big tits, no bras, dyed blonde hair with black roots dressed in the usual rock-chick attire of leather mini-skirts, fishnet stockings and tight dark brown and cream t-shirts with the ‘Cobham Street’ motif on them.
“Sorry ladies, I was just about to part-take would either of you like to join me?”
My quip was out before I’d even thought about it. Hell, I was probably going to be sacked after this, but I grinned widely and Rick smacked me around the head, making me cry out— partly in surprise, partly out of pain.
“You’re such a smart ass Jack Cunningham.” Pivoting the top half if his body in their direction he gestured at me with his hand, his pyjamas still at his ankles. “I was just showing him my rash.”
Laughing raucously I stared helplessly at Rick taking in his pathetic form with the patterned material draped around his feet and his dick dangling in front of him. As soon as I knew he felt the need to explain what was happening all of my professionalism suddenly deserted me and I was struggling to catch my breath, let alone stop laughing. The skinnier one of the girls gave a loud snort, then her resolve was gone and she joined in laughing, but I think she was laughing because mine was so infectious more than anything else.
Rick continued protesting his innocence when suddenly the second girl who had been standing staring deadpan erupted in the oddest hee-haw laugh I’ve ever heard in my life. The look on Rick’s face was a picture as he gawped in disbelief with his jaw open taking in all of us laughing hysterically at his expense. I was sure he was going react badly, but even at that I just couldn’t get it together at all.
Rick bent down and pulled his pyjamas up, which I found even funnier for no particular reason and this set off a fresh bout of laughter. Striding over to open the door, Rick waved a finger in the direction of the two women and Jed made short work of evacuating them from the scene. All I could do was watch helplessly because I couldn’t get my laughing fit under control, and I was sure I was going to be next to be thrown out, but probably via the roof terrace.
Closing the door again, Rick bent forward, his hands on his knees and he suddenly cracked up with laughter. “Jack fucking Cunningham, I should bury my size eleven up your ass for what just happened there, and I don’t understand why I can’t…I fucking love you, dude. You have no idea what a breath of fresh air you are in a world full of ‘yes men’. How the fuck have you been?”
KLShandwick just Jack 2015©
K. L. Shandwick lives on the outskirts of London. She started writing after a challenge by a friend when she commented on a book she read. The result of this was “The Everything Trilogy.” Her background has been mainly in the health and social care sector in the U.K. She is still currently a freelance or self- employed professional in this field. Her books tend to focus on the relationships of the main characters. Writing is a form of escapism for her and she is just as excited to find out where her characters take her as she is when she reads another author’s work.
Get in touch with me!!

Scrupulous by Kristina Canady ~ Coming Soon!

Official Cover
Title: Scrupulous
An Affliction of Falling Novel
Author: Kristina Canady

Book to be released August 1, Pre-Order Available now!

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PRE_ORDER SALE LINK: This book will have a pre order sale for only $1.99!

Author Links:
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Book Blurb:
Sorcha
Some men just can’t accept that a woman can be perfectly content without them. I mean, come on; a girl can get laid anytime she wants, it’s not like it’s hard. And lord knows, I have no interest in a relationship, there is no time for that drama-filled nonsense. Pursuing my passion in life is all that I have time for. Selfish and short sighted? Perhaps, but I know what I want out of life and have no problem going after it. Life is a string of decisions, constructed and manifested by us. I own mine and don’t apologize for it either.
Gavin
Defined by my past, I hadn’t ever considered love as an option for someone like me. That is, until I spotted that sweet little brunette from across the crowded room. It was magnetic, and as much as she tried to resist, I was going to have her. Come heaven or high water, she would be mine.

All Who Are Lost, by Lindsey Forrest!

Sale-AllWhoAreLost

 

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Title: All Who Are Lost

Series: Ashmore’s Folly, Book 1

Author: Lindsey Forrest

Genre(s): adult contemporary fiction, women’s literature, romance

To celebrate the upcoming release of All That Lies Broken, Book 2 in her Ashmore’s Folly series, author Lindsey Forrest has put book #1, All Who Are Lost, on sale at an absolutely unbelievable price! This is a reading experience that should NOT be missed! The sale begins Monday, June 15th and will end on June 30th. See what you’ve been missing!

Synopsis

Three women.

Three sisters growing up in the shadow of their father’s obsessive drive to recapture his lost muse, the woman he threw into the cold Irish sea.

One man.

The scion of a great family estate in Virginia, falling in love with the wrong sister, blind to the ice at her core.

Too many betrayals.

A girl, rejected and ignored by the man she loved, choosing to walk away forever.

A man living a life of regret and sacrifice, trying to atone for a New Year’s Eve kiss that wrecked his marriage.

A fragile wife, lost in her own lies, unable to halt the devastation she set in motion with one vicious lie.

A woman haunted by a moment of blood and violence, when she reached out and took a man who didn’t belong to her.

One last chance.

On a clear summer day, Laura St. Bride’s life changes in smoke and flame. Even as the fires of grief rage on, a man reaches out from the past and tells her to come home.

Can she truly go home again?
Can sisters, bred to be bitter rivals from birth, learn to forgive the sins of the past?
Can a family, once smashed apart, find peace and rebirth?

What do you do
when the love of your life
is the last person you should love?

Can a man and a woman cast aside the violence of their past
and reach out for the last love of their lives?


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Excerpt

In his life, Richard Ashmore had made three mistakes with women. Not that three was so unusual; no man reached his thirties without suffering the particular pain that women could inflict and without inflicting it in return. He was luckier than most men, perhaps, for he had erred early and grievously, and caution had been driven into him like a bullet. He carried with him permanent reminders of his follies: a marriage gone disastrously wrong, the painful conscience that he had not always been the upright man his daughter loved, a shoulder that ached in cold weather.

Ah, Diana, unattainable once attained, a monumental mistake made in all the first flush of adolescent desire and pride. Too young to marry, too blindly in love to recognize the ice behind her eyes, he had turned a deaf ear to his father’s warning that his princess was hollow at her core.

Francie, silver-quick smile and hungry eyes, and his own need for the warmth of a woman’s arms. The dangerous combination of a magnum of champagne on New Year’s Eve and three years of exile from his marriage bed had erupted into a springtime of madness. The gods had demanded their due: a marriage wrecked beyond salvage, a family foundered, two young women cast adrift.

And the third…. Oh, but even now, all these years later, he stood before her picture, and he still did not understand. She watched him from the poster, more animated in flat gray and white than he had ever known her. But he knew those eyes. He knew how they adored him, how they burned in fever and desire, how they haunted odd moments of the day and dark pockets of the night.

Diana. Francie. Laura the Cat.

He supposed he had a special weakness for shuttered eyes that invited a man in with promises implied and unkept, for wild autumn hair spread gloriously across a pillow, for tall, elegant figures and clear, sweet voices and beguiling, destructive ways. They all three had this and more in common, and why not? They were sisters, after all.

I know you’re out there somewhere….

She stared out across a crowded London square, unknowing, unseeing, the serenity of her face captured in the flat surface of the theatrical poster. The light noon rain ran down in small diagonal rivers across her, crinkling the smooth plain of her forehead and the gentle cut of her jaw. She wept, large, abandoned tears that warred with the lovely turn of her mouth.

The Great Cat, they called her.

Many of those who had come to Leicester Square, hunting for half-price theater tickets, gravitated to her, beckoned by her eyes, lured on by the legend of mist and mystery that surrounded her. A few balked at the price of “An Intimate Evening with Cat Courtney.” Others realized to their sorrow that they had conflicting tickets, meals planned with in-laws, flights to catch. Three nights only, announced the poster, and this, unfortunately, was the last night.

She smiled out at them all, oblivious to their concerns, uncaring of the rain wetting her face.

The American tourist who came walking into the square, his daughter by his side, did not notice her at first. The rain had stopped for a few minutes, and other matters engaged him: folding up a handy umbrella, glancing at his watch, reading a guide book over his daughter’s shoulder. For one minute longer, he remained merely a tourist on a much-needed vacation. For one minute longer, the Great Cat never crossed his mind.

But the Great Cat could wait, and for this man she would wait forever.

She had left him a decade before, both of them reeling from the blood of their folly, in a deserted cottage on a desolate shore on the other side of the world. Had she eyes to see, she would know him instantly.

Eventually, respite ended. Eventually, Richard Ashmore lifted his head, his eyes scanning across the theatrical posters, in search of an evening’s entertainment suitable for a young girl. The titles made little impression – Les Miserables, The Graduate, Noises Off – until he saw her and everything around her blurred into oblivion.

He knew her too, instantly.

Laura.

His worst mistake.

Buying Link

amazon.com

About the Author

Lindsey_Forrest

Lindsey Forrest, a lead writer/editor for an international information company, writes about income tax but prefers to dream of heroes and heroines and grand romance. With the publication of her trilogy, she checks off the top entry on her bucket list. She lives in north Texas with her family and cat and has a five-year plan for becoming a full-time novelist and editor of indie fiction. When she isn’t working or writing, she amuses herself with reading, needlepointing, tramping around historical sites and houses, and outbidding everyone who gets in her way on Ebay.

Visit Lindsey’s web site at www.lindseyforrest.com. You can also learn more about the Ashmore’s Folly Trilogy at www.ashmoresfolly.com.

Social Media Links

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5-Star Amazon Reviews…

“I read the reviews for this book and expected a good read but nothing prepared me for the intensity of emotions that the author brought to life in this deeply rooted saga.
With the stories of three families intertwined we see how one person’s hope is another’s hate. How one person’s loss is another’s passion and how life creates good and bad moments in the blink of an eye. This is a haunting read and the author draws you in to the lives of the characters while adding layer after layer of family dreams, hopes, desires and despair. Prepare to feel the joy as well as the agony of characters throughout this read. The story is solidly written and leaves you wanting more so I’m glad this is just the first book and can hardly wait for what may be coming next…”

“WOW!!!! I just finished “All Who Are Lost” by Lindsey Forrest. I LOVED it! I am an avid reader, but this is not my usual genre. Or SO I THOUGHT! This book spans multiple genre’s ( romance, drama, mystery & intrigue, and even historical)! There are so many twists and turns to the story, and so many individual stories with twists and turns it literally made my head spin and I had a hard time putting it down.It is the 1st of a trilogy, and I can not wait for book 2! I think this is a Hallmark mini series prospect! I absolutely highly recommend this book!”

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10 Inspiring Facts for Indie Authors

Nicholas C. Rossis's avatarNicholas C. Rossis

I found this wonderful post on Wise Ink Creative Publishing and am sharing. As always, there’s been some editing to add my thoughts, but you can read the original post on the Wise Ink‘s website.

10 Inspiring Facts for Indie Authors

If I had a dime for each time one of you has told me you’re going through a rough patch with your writing, I’d probably be able to get Michelangelo to illustrate my book covers (yes, I’d also have enough to build a time machine). It’s probably even harder for Indie authors, as we have to do everything ourselves. So, I thought you might appreciate these statistics that should bring a smile back on your face.

  • Self-published books accounted for 31% of all e-book sales in the Kindle Store in 2014.
  • Indie books account for 31% of e-books. However,
  • 40% of all e-book revenue is going to indie…

View original post 266 more words

Many lovely creatures were stirring…A blog of complete madness.

Love this! Kinky….

Christian Grey's avatarChristianGreyPOV

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Redroom

Not even an insanely fucked up creature like me was stirring, or spanking, or even flogging anyone…until I heard a big BOOM!

I jumped out of my warm bed to see about the commotion, and to my sweet surprise, I find a sea of ladies filling the Redroom, moving me to some strange unknown emotion.

“What the fuck is going on here, ladies?” I ask. But to my disapproval they all ignore me, and one tosses me a bright shiny flask.

Wall to wall submissives now fill the once empty room, and I glance down to find my X-Cross on the floor, and now understand the boom.

“Who is responsible for this?” I ask in a demanding tone, but am once again ignored, but I think I heard a moan. “Lils? Why do I have the feeling that you are…

View original post 409 more words

Forfeit by Caroline Batten

TourBanner-Forfeit

Title: #Forfeit

Author: Caroline Batten

Publication Date: July 29, 2014

The Story…

Getting divorced at twenty-five sucks.
Teaching over-confident rich kids instead of designing handbags for Mulberry sucks. In fact, every single aspect of Daisy Fitzgerald’s life is one big…

#fail
Enter Xander, a veritable Knight-in-Shining-Cricket-Pads, who knocks her off her wedge heels and into his world of It-girls, players and Michelin stars.

Buoyed up on cocktails & escapism
Daisy agrees to play Forfeit, the ultimate game of dares, where a simple kiss sparks her relationship with Xander. But £25,000 is up for grabs and the game’s called Forfeit for good reason.

Blackmail * Betrayal * Revenge
Move over Gatsby, there’s a new bunch of bored young things in town.

Perfect for fans of Jilly Cooper, David Nicholls, Fiona Walker and Jo Carnegie, #Forfeit’s an contemporary romance from a No.1 and ‘Most Read’ Wattpad author with over 3,000,000 online reads.

“#Forfeit will make you laugh, cry, question your sanity and wish for your very own Knight-In-Shining-Cricket-Pads.” – cosyingupwithbooks.blogspot.co.uk

#Forfeit_XanderTeaser_New

Excerpts…

Daisy rolled the Teetotum ball, praying for a pleasant dare, and when it landed on twenty-five, she smiled. Her age, surely that was fortuitous? She took the card out of the Forfeit box and read the dare.

Lust: Kiss another player for five minutes. Don’t tell anyone what you’re doing, or why.

Oh bugger.

‘This is nuts,’ Xander said, shaking his head as he rolled the ball.

Totally nuts, Daisy mentally replied. The dare was doable, absolutely doable, but who the hell was she going to kiss? The obvious answer was Xander.

He laughed as he read his dare card. The obvious answer, but should she? He’d stuck by his no shagging promise and hadn’t been even slightly flirtatious all night, but what if he got the wrong idea? Or got pissed off because he thought she had? She couldn’t ruin their new best friend relationship, or her chance to live in the dream cottage.

‘Mine’s a piece of piss,’ James said, grinning.

Maybe she could kiss James. She could walk right over and just kiss him. As if he’d read her mind, he glanced at her, his face crumpling with disdain as he checked out her chest. What the hell? They might not be enormous, but her boobs were one of her better features. Clearly, she couldn’t kiss him. He might tell her to piss off. That would be horrific. Not James.

‘Twenty-to-one,’ James said. ‘One hour. Let’s do it. Tab, give me your bra.’

‘Not wearing one. I need a bottle of Jack and a shot glass,’ Tabitha purred to James, showing him her card.

‘Unlucky.’ He laughed, already heading for an open cabinet crammed with spirits. ‘It says whisky, spelled without an e. How about a sixteen year-old single malt?’

Tabitha’s smug smile faded. ‘But you know I can’t stand scotch fucking whisky.’

‘Aren’t you doing your dare then?’ Daisy asked sweetly. Wasn’t payback a bitch?

Tabitha snatched a bottle of Jura from James. Game on. Daisy grinned, appreciating Tabitha manning up, but she couldn’t help wishing that knocking back ten shots of top-quality whisky were her dare. It’d be a lot easier than kissing one of the other players for five minutes.

What about Marcus? He grabbed a guitar that stood propped beside the piano – because what respectable bachelor pad didn’t have a Steinway to hand? Casually, he sauntered up to a pretty girl with a dark, elfin cut. Any conversation she was having with her friends dried up as Marcus took her hand, kissing it briefly, before bursting into song. And not just any song. He’d chosen One Direction’s Little Things.

Daisy would’ve giggled at the cheesiness, but Marcus knew the words and he could play the chords. Better still, despite being off-key and horrifically flat, he delivered the song as if he were Harry Styles himself. The pixie girl never dropped eye contact with him. He’d so pulled. Daisy wouldn’t be kissing him.

Which left Xander.

He’d settled back on the sofa with his eyes closed. Was his dare to go to sleep?

‘If I die, I leave everything to my cat,’ Tabitha said, lifting the first of the ten shot glasses James had lined up on the table.

It had to be Xander, but what if it all went wrong? God, she was acting like a twelve year-old over a stupid kiss-dare. Wasn’t that the point of a dare, to do something humiliating? And she had to do it – no way would she flake out in front of Tabitha bloody Doyle. Then Daisy had a brilliant idea; how to make it a lot less messy – she’d cheat.

Buoyed up on cocktails, coke and escapism, she sat astride a somewhat stunned Xander.

‘Help me?’ she whispered, surreptitiously showing him the card.

Tabitha groaned as she sank number four. She was so going to be sick, but Daisy’s stomach churned too. What if he said no?

He didn’t.

Clearly fighting a smile, he gave a slow nod and Daisy stared at him, her nerves building. Oh God, she was about to kiss Xander. He raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling as he waited. She’d have to start this – it was her dare, not his. Tentatively, she brushed her lips against his, testing the water before she set the timer on her phone.

Five minutes, easy-peasy.

It all started harmlessly – even a little mechanical, but after the first minute, Xander’s hands moved up her back, his thumbs caressing her skin through the thin silk and shivers surged over her. He’d done the same on the one night stand, just before he’d undone her bra.

And I want him to do it again.

What the hell was that drumming noise inside her head? Was that her heartbeat? She wanted to pull away, desperate to breathe, to take control of her head, but her hands still held his face and his Bulgari aftershave still sent her senses reeling.

Slow, sweet, teasing, this was no teenage kiss-dare. Xander’s hands had moved up her bare shoulders, his fingers doing wicked things to her neck. How long had they been kissing for, three minutes, maybe four? Why wasn’t it thirty seconds? Then she’d have four and half minutes still to go.

Tequila body shots. Oh to lick salt off his abs again.

‘Supposed to be just friends,’ Tabitha slurred behind her. ‘That doesn’t look like friends.’

Daisy’s phone beeped. The five minutes were up, but no way was she stopping.

I want more.

‘I bet it’s her dare,’ James replied.

A dare.

She dragged her lips from Xander’s, looking down, watching his chest rising and falling. It was just a stupid dare. How had she got so carried away? How had they got so carried away? Oh God, what if he wasn’t carried away? What if he thought she were some desperate cow, throwing herself at him? Mortified, she closed her eyes, her head dropping. How could she laugh it off, put on her bravest of brave faces when she’d made such a fool of herself?

Xander dropped a kiss on her neck.

#Forfeit_DaisyTeaser_New2

Itching with a masochistic desire to read the HeatWorld article, Daisy unlocked her phone, but the first notification waiting for her was Forfeit invited you to like the page Forfeit – the Ultimate Game of Dares. Her finger shook as she clicked the link. Eighty-one Likes. What the hell? Liked by who? Who knew about it?

On Saturday 24th June, five hedonistic twenty-somethings each tossed fifty pounds into a pot, gambling on their ability to do a dare. Follow their progress as they get ready to play the final round.

Who the hell would be interested? Eighty-two people, one of them a friend of hers. Clara had liked this nonsense?

In Round One, birthday boy James Dowson-Jones collected bras…

The names were hyperlinks. Daisy clicked hers. Daisy Fitzgerald – Forfeit Player. It wasn’t her own Facebook page, but another set up by someone else. It had a shot from James’ party as the profile picture. Vague details about her. And comments. People had posted comments on her wall.

Do the dare!

Hope you play!

Do the dare #forfeit

It had a hashtag? Oh God. It did. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. But over on Twitter, @ForfeitHost had almost a hundred followers, the hashtag dozens of tweets.

@polilrichgal: Daisy’s a Fugly Ho. #forfeit

@1_D_fangirl_1990: hate her too, but so want to play #forfeit

@skizzerd_love: bet they don’t turn up on NYE #forfeit

@wineinachippedmug: she’s alright, I reckon. Daisy to win.

At least someone was on her side.

Daisy scoured the tweets, the comments, the messages. Ninety percent of it was people discussing dares they’d done or forfeits they paid, but the other ten percent? Bitchy comments, mostly decrying her as totally unfit to kiss the feet of Xander or Finn.

By the time she’d chain-smoked her way through half the bottle of wine, the Facebook page had almost three hundred Likes and @ForfeitHost over five hundred followers. This crap was going viral before her eyes, not hurt by the Daisy/Finn/Brittany story.

Pay the stake, Roll the dice, Do the dare.

The tweet had come from @jellyfishmommie at 10:45. By 11:30 that quickly became a mantra tweeted and retweeted with horrific regularity. Daisy hoped the jellyfish mommy had her jellyfish babies taken away from her. Pay the stake…

‘I don’t have five thousand pounds, you stupid cow.’

The Book Trailer:

About Caroline Batten

Caroline-BattenBorn in the United Kingdom, Caroline lives in the Lake District with her husband, small child and two Kune Kune pigs.

She daydreams of one day owning a pair of Louboutin’s and having somewhere fabulous to wear them. Until then, she’ll be found plodding up a mountain in her trusty hiking boots.

#forfeit is Caroline’s debut novel. Her second novel, Distraction, is due for publication in February 2015.

#Forfeit_FinnTeaser2

Unscripted Cover Unveil by Christy Pastore!

Unscripted (The Scripted Series #1)
by Christy Pastore
Genre : Erotica Romance
Publication Date : December 9, 2014
Cover Design : Mayhem Cover Creations

Synopsis

“His gaze on me was intense, I couldn’t look away. I felt as if I was revealing my entire soul to him in this moment.”  

The range of emotions I had experienced with Ronan felt like a topsy-turvy spinning roller coaster. Suddenly I was awake for the first time in what felt like years. Every fiber of my being was filled with heated desire, passion, lust and fear, and all I wanted was more… more of everything, more of him. How had I just lived these past few years only going through the motions?  But, as glorious as all of this was, was I kidding myself? Could it be real? Or just a moment in time – a few days of thrilling and scary excitement rolled into one? The moment before you hit that first big drop on your favorite coaster, you fall, and then it’s over.

This isn’t your typical Hollywood fairy tale where the typecast ordinary girl next door meets the famous handsome actor and they fall in love. Despite the emotional and physical scars that serve as reminders of Holliday Prescott’s past, she has evolved into a strong young woman. Ronan Connolly has loved and lost, but he’s never been in love. The weight of Hollywood’s expectations and the scripted games people play have left him bruised but not broken.

He’s always followed everyone else’s script and she wrote her own. That was until fate swept in with other plans.

MATURE CONTENT
This story contains sexually explicit material and is intended for mature individuals over the age of eighteen.

©Christy Pastore, 2014

About the Author

Writer Christy Pastore grew up in the lakeside community of Syracuse, Indiana USA writing short stories that usually involved characters who loved to travel, had a passion for fashion and were often times swept up in boy crazy crushes.  Many of her first stores also dealt with coming of age situations with their best girlfriends.

Christy gave up reading books for several years, disillusioned with the annoying characters and predictable plot lines. Upon the recommendation of a friend, Christy picked up a much buzzed about popular romance novel which reminded her of why reading was such an enjoyable guilty pleasure.
Writing has been a constant in Christy’s life, leading her to create a popular fashion blog, Fashion Wrap Up. This endeavor allowed Christy to have the wonderful experience of working and collaborating with many talented models, designers, makeup artists and photographers in the Fashion Industry. While Pastore still writes about fashion and celebrity style in her spare time, her passion for story development, more specifically creative writing, publishing and content creation has taken her on a new journey and career path: Author.

Her debut novel, Fifteen Weekends was released in May of 2014. Her next novel, Unscripted is set to release in November 2014.

Additionally, Christy enjoys a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc, a warm cup of coffee, Gummi Bears, traveling and tweeting her thoughts on her favorite TV shows.

Christy and her husband Kevin currently reside in St. Louis, Missouri in the popular Italian Neighborhood, The Hill, with their two lovable dogs and cooler than cool cat.

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