Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Blog Tour: Road to Royalty by Autumn Jones Lake


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Lost Kings MC Boxed Set, Includes Books 1-3, plus bonus material.

SLOW BURN (Lost Kings MC, Book #1)
Forced to represent an outlaw biker, a married attorney must come to terms with her feelings for her client while avoiding the danger he brings into her sedate life.
CORRUPTING CINDERELLA (Lost Kings MC, Book #2)
Love is the ultimate outlaw.
How do a lawyer and a badass biker with a heart of gold keep their love alive while their opposing worlds collide?
STRENGTH FROM LOYALTY (Lost Kings MC, Book #3)
As a dark cloud descends over Hope and Rock’s already precarious future, will a long-hidden secret push them both past the point of no return?
Bonus Scene #1
At the Range
Bonus Scene #2
Prom Dress
PLUS, character interviews, and other exclusive-to-this-boxed-set material.












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PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

It wasn’t love at first sight when I met her. Lust? Definitely. I don’t think I believed in love at the time, but one look at her beautiful face, and all the bad stuff around me melted away. Not an easy feat for a guy in handcuffs.
Someone as innocent as her should never have gotten involved with a man like me. By innocent, I don't mean she was some breathy, eighteen-year-old virgin ingénue. No—when we met, she was a thirty-one-year-old married lady. When I use the word innocent, it is in terms of never having killed someone. Never seeing someone die in front of her. Never breaking the law.
True violence had never touched her life.
Violence and I had been close personal friends for a large part of my life. Along with crime. And death. I used violence as a tool to keep order in my often chaotic world, just as she used the law to keep things orderly in her black-and-white one.
She was a lawyer. I was a criminal. She was married to a decent, hard-working, honest guy. I fucked any willing girl who hung out in my club, and made my living in less than honest ways.

She was kind. I didn't know any nice women. Hadn’t known one since my mother died shortly after my eighth birthday. I don’t have many memories of her, but the ones I do have are warm and pleasant.
None of the tramps my father brought home after her death had an ounce of compassion for a motherless brat. The strippers that danced in my club seemed younger every day. A lot of them were bitchy drama queens, and the older I got, the less patience I had for emotional scenes. The girls who attended to the members of my motorcycle club were down to fuck, but not much else. That’s how I liked them.
We met in a courtroom. I sat in the area designated for prisoners. Shackles laced my hands and feet together. I shuffled into the room wearing a spiffy orange jumpsuit, the county correctional logo stenciled across my back in big white letters—just in case anyone thought I suffered from bad fashion sense.
She sat in the front row. I didn't hang my head when I entered. I stood proud and tall looking over the entire room. Some of my brothers stood along the back wall, waiting to see if I'd get bail.
I couldn’t find my attorney in the sea of people. His big, shiny, bald dome should have been easy to spot. My gaze wandered back to the girl in the front row. Long, straight, reddish-brown hair flowed down past her shoulders. Straight bangs across her forehead framed brilliant green eyes. Even from where I sat, I spotted freckles splattered across her nose. The deep green suit she wore emphasized the creaminess of her skin. The banister separating the criminals from the common folk blocked my view of anything below her shoulders, but that angelic face hooked me right away.
The sheriff leaned over and whispered to me, "Your attorney called to say he's running late." I nodded and mumbled a "thanks" without taking my eyes off the girl. Was her old man locked up? Was she a witness to a crime? Would my asshole lawyer get here so I could get free and talk to the girl?
"Any other message?" I asked Deputy Brown. He was a decent guy as far as pigs went. He'd treated me with respect, hadn't tried to bash my head into anything, and even brought me a donut before leading me upstairs to court. He didn’t get a chance to answer, because the bailiff made a big show of telling me to shut up. Arrogant prick wasn’t good enough to even be a cop, but he sure acted like one. I'd dealt with him before.
My eyes returned to the girl. She sat patient and attentive, waiting her turn. Once or twice, she looked at the clock. Only a slight twitch of her lips indicated her annoyance.
After what seemed like an eternity, the bailiff called the next case, and the girl stood up. She hauled a battered briefcase over her shoulder and stepped through the swinging gate up to the table across from where I sat.
Holy shit.
If I'd been anywhere else in the world, I would have whistled long and low to express my appreciation for the soft curves of her body. The skirt she wore fell to her knees, but it clung to all the right spots and showcased a fantastic set of calves. Her modest heels clicked over the wooden floor, calling my attention to her slender ankles. I was so busy drooling over her I missed it when she stated her name.
The dickhead bailiff brought over a chair and actually smiled at her. She thanked him politely. The judge made some chit-chat with her, and she let out a girlish giggle. People seemed to know her. Like her.
"Attorney Kendall?"
"Yes, your honor." She stood up. Ah, she was a lawyer. That explained the chit-chat. She argued some civil matter I didn't understand or care about. I listened to her make her case, then watched her sit down. Her opponent didn’t have a lawyer. He bumbled around and generally made a fool of himself. She listened with a passive expression, then argued her position again. The judge ruled in her favor.
I wanted her. In more ways than one after her performance. The courtroom was almost empty. My guys still occupied the back row, but that was it. If my lawyer didn't show up soon, I'd be screwed.
I nudged Deputy Brown with my elbow. "Can she represent me?"
"I don't think she's a criminal attorney."
"Just for the arraignment. To get me out."
"I'll ask."
The deputy motioned to the bailiff to watch me and went to talk to the clerk. She nodded, and when the judge had a moment, she whispered in his ear.
Fuck. The girl was putting her stuff away and getting ready to leave. I really wanted her. I mean, I wanted to fuck her, of course. But I also wanted her to represent me. People seemed to like and respect her. I'd been in and out of the criminal justice system long enough to know getting out of trouble was sometimes less about what you knew and more about who you knew. If I'd gotten picked up in a different county, I could have used my connections to make this go away. Here, I was kind of stuck. I needed her.
"Attorney Kendall, could you stay and do an arraignment, please?" the judge asked off the record.
Her jaw dropped, and the color drained from her face. "Uh, I'm not a criminal attorney, your honor," she stammered.
"It's pretty simple. Mr. North's attorney got delayed. Don't make me appoint you," he teased.

"Well, um, just for the limited purpose of this arraignment?" she asked with a hopeful lilt to her voice.
"That's fine."
The judge waved me over next to her. Her big eyes widened in shock as I lumbered over. I was mildly insulted. Had she really not noticed me the entire time I'd been sitting there?
"I can pay you," I whispered down to her.
She looked startled. "It's okay. What are we dealing with?" I liked the way she said "we."
"Weed."
She gave me a blank stare.
"Marijuana. Got caught with a couple blunts." Acting on a bad tip from one of the club’s many enemies, the cops had been hoping to pin a whole hell of a lot more on me. This was why, instead of ignoring the weed like most cops did these days, I was standing here in shackles and the orange jumpsuit.
"Oh geez." She rolled her eyes. At me or the charge, I wasn't sure.
"Do you have a record?"
"About a mile long."
That stopped her. She stared up at me, searching my face for the truth. Apparently deciding no one would joke about that, she nodded her head.
"Can you post bail? Do you work? Have a family?"
"Yes, yes, and yes."
She didn't ask what kind of work. Or what kind of family for that matter.
"Your honor, I've had a chance to confer with my client." "Very well. Let’s call it."
His clerk stood and read out, "The People of the State of New York versus Rochlan North." Look at that—the old gal even pronounced my first name right.
My girl looked up at me again. My manners were shit. I’d never bothered to introduce myself, I guess.
The judge slammed his gavel down. First time I’d heard him do it all morning. The sharp thwack broke the staring contest my pretty lawyer and I were engaged in. "Do you wish to hear the reading of the charges, counselor?"
She hesitated for a minute, and the judge covered the microphone with his hand. "Usually the attorney waives the reading, Miss Kendall."
"I know, your honor. Thank you. Yes, I'll waive the reading. May I have a copy of the charges for my file, though?"
"Yes, of course. Do you wish to be heard on bail?"
"Yes, your honor. My client assures me he can pay a reasonable sum. He's a hard-working family man, so it would be in society's best interest to allow him to continue to work and provide for his family while he waits to address these false charges."
I'm proud to say I kept a straight face during all of that. She impressed me with her quick thinking, though. Criminal attorney or not, she was clever. I had a fondness for clever. Clever kept you alive.
Cute and smart. I should get arrested more often.
"Very well. Bail is set in the amount of five hundred dollars cash. If your client is able to post it now, he can be processed downstairs instead of going back to county." She looked up at me and arched an eyebrow. I nodded and motioned my crew forward.
"That's acceptable. Thank you, your honor."
"Off the record," the judge said to the court reporter. He looked back up at my attorney. "See, that wasn't so hard, Miss Kendall." The judge's face lit up in a wolfish smile I didn't take kindly to. Already in my head, I'd laid claim to this woman whose first name I didn't even know.
The sheriff came over and gripped my elbow.
"Can't you remove the restraints, now?" she asked the sheriff with wide, pleading eyes.
To say her request stunned me would be an understatement. No one had ever given a crap about my discomfort.
The sheriff did not look surprised. He answered her gently. "No counselor, not till he's posted the bail money. You can meet us downstairs." He nodded toward the guys standing behind the banister. "His posse can show you the way."
She hesitated, and I read the expression on her face loud and clear. She didn't want to follow my crew anywhere. In fact, she looked like she wanted to run away.
"Go ahead, I'll be fine." I appreciated that she'd given it a try. Sheriffs wouldn’t break protocol no matter how owl-eyed innocent she acted. It sure turned me on, though. Maybe that was the moment I fell in love with her.













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Autumn prefers to write her romances on the classy side of dirty, and she's a sucker for a filthy-talking, demanding alpha male hero. The bigger the better. She believes true love stories never end.
Some of Autumn's favorite hobbies include reading, writing, acting, music and horror movies. When she's home, her faithful Pug is always by her side. She's an active member of her local chapter of Romance Writers of America.
Autumn was born and raised in upstate New York. She still enjoys all four seasons there with her very own alpha hero and their three rescue dogs.
You can find Autumn on Facebook and she always loves to hear from readers at:
AutumnJLake@gmail.com.
Author Links


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Excerpt Reveal: Doomsday Love by Shanora Williams

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Coming  June 16th

PRE-ORDER EXCLUSIVELY ON Itunes-: apple.co/1qfggib

Add to your Goodreads shelf now

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When we were ten, he treated me like a friend.
When we were eighteen, he wanted nothing to do with me.
And now that we are twenty-four, he longs to claim every single inch of me.

He was wild—untamed.
And I, a reckless girl, who loved too hard.
But, what we had was special.
I was his serenity and he my protector.

Drake was consumed by my love…
but he also took advantage of it…
He’d broken my heart—left me hanging for years.
He ruined us.

And, now, he’s back.
He wants me.
And I want to hate him, I really do.

But, who am I kidding?
No one can deny Drake Davenport.
You can’t hide from the almighty DOOMSDAY.

Because he is a fighter.
And, just like me, he loves hard.
He never loses and he will fight as hard is he can if it means winning me back.















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I rushed for my car, unlocking it with the key fob on the way. Before I could pull the door handle and get inside, I heard the crunching of gravel and then a hand came down on the window, slamming my door closed.
I gasped as the same hand wrapped round my arm and squeezed it with slight pressure. He whirled me around and pressed my back against the cold door.
Bold green eyes focused on mine, pink lips so close I felt my belly swirling with heat. His hands went outside my head, pressing on the car.
He smelled good, so good, sweet pine, sweet earth. His jaw was locked, hair on his forehead, breathing deeply through his nostrils.
“I’m trying to fucking save you from me, Jenny.”
“I don’t need you to save me from you.” My breathing accelerated with his.
“Why the hell do you need to be friends with a guy like me anyway?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have to. I just… want to.”
Sighing, he brought one hand down, roughly running it over his face. He was aggravated with me, frustrated, but like me, he couldn’t let go. He hated being away.
“What is it that you want, huh?” he bit through clenched teeth. “What is it, Jenny? You want me to talk sweet to you? Is that it? You want me to tell you some bullshit about how I’m actually a good guy deep down, how I secretly wish to be with you too, but my life won’t allow it—our lives, wont allow it?”
His questions were rhetorical, but they spoke to me. There was truth behind them. He was opening up and he didn’t even realize it.
Suddenly, his face straightened, and he moved in closer, pressing his crotch into my belly. I stilled when his hands came to my face and he clasped it, keeping my eyes on his.
Breath shallow, I watched as his eyes narrowed. He studied me like a piece of artwork, like I was some intricate masterpiece that no one could figure out. The kind of masterpiece that is too beautiful to replicate—too unique to pass by without a thorough glance.
That same torment and confliction from the previous week ran deep in his eyes again. He hated this, but liked it just a tad bit more.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, Jenny.”
“What?” I finally spoke, my voice hardly a whisper.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? All of that shit I just said is exactly what you want.” He shook his head with a small huff. He still had my face in his large, rough hands. “    












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Shanora Williams is a twenty-something that creates authentic romantic stories that, may or may not, make you question what a "Happily Ever After" truly is. After hitting the New York Times and USA Today bestsellers list at the mere age of nineteen, Shanora ventured further into the creative writing world, working even harder to create unique and memorable romances for all to enjoy.
She currently resides in Waxhaw, North Carolina and is the mother of one amazing boy, in love with her devoted man, and a sister to eleven.
When she isn't writing, she's spending time with her family, binge reading, or running marathons on Netflix while scarfing down anything sweet and salty. She also writes under the pen name S. Q. Williams.
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Review Tour w/Giveaway: Touched by Love by Melissa Foster


Enter to Win a Digital Copy of
GAME OF LOVE


GAME OF LOVE
The Remingtons Series #6
Melissa Foster
Released May 17, 2016
World Literary Press 


Fiercely independent Janie Jansen has always believed there were worse things in life than being blind, and she’s spent her life proving it. She’s moved away from her overprotective parents, built a life in New York City, and is one of the top technical editors in her company. That is, until an unfortunate accident turns her life upside down and she’s forced to give up the very independence she’s worked so hard to achieve.

Firefighter Boyd Hudson pushed past his tragic past and is weeks away from accomplishing his ultimate dream—being accepted into medical school. His intense focus on his goal while working three jobs has taken its toll. With a trail of failed relationships behind him, Boyd is painstakingly aware of his limitations and avoids girlfriends completely—a difficult task given his attraction to one of his co-workers.

When Boyd comes to Janie’s rescue, she’s forced to accept his help, and Janie discovers there’s more to the sexy-sounding office flirt than one-liners. Their connection deepens as Janie heals, but it turns out that Janie isn’t the only one who needs healing. Boyd’s painful past comes back to haunt him, threatening their relationship and forcing Boyd to reevaluate everything he knows about himself.

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5 Stars

A love story, am a sucker for them, always have been and always will be. This one thought had a angle that I did not think was there. Both her characters were to say the least very interesting. Janie her female character is as strong as they come, but she is blind. Boyd the male character has his own problems to overcome, that stem from a tragedy that happened to him when he was but a child.
The Author brought these characters together and wove a magical story of love, discovery and trust that comes with love. I loved this trip through the story that took me from pain loneliness, love and back again through it all.




Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes contemporary romance, new adult, contemporary women’s fiction, suspense, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café and Fostering Success. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa has been published in Calgary’s Child Magazine, the Huffington Post, and Women Business Owners magazine.

Melissa hosts an Aspiring Authors contest for children and has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Melissa lives in Maryland with her family.

Visit Melissa on social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups, and welcomes an invitation to your event.

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