Thursday, June 16, 2016

Virtual Tour w/Giveaway: 30 Nights by Christine d'Abo


Enter to Win a Print Copy of 30 NIGHTS


30 NIGHTS
The 30 Series #2
Christine d'Abo
Released May 31st, 2016
Kensington


Baring your body is simple--but baring your soul might just change everything.

The last thing Glenna O'Donald expected to stumble upon in a cemetery was a pack of index cards. And not just any cards--each one contains instructions for a seriously kinky, no-holds-barred sexual encounter. Glenna, an over-analytical research assistant by day, is suddenly tempted to conduct some nocturnal experiments of her own. Especially when gorgeous university professor Eric Morris offers to be her lab partner.

Soon Glenna begins meeting with Eric once a week to try out the suggestions that intrigue her most. In between those daring nights of sensual exploration are work days filled with laughter and flirting…until Glenna fears she's getting in too deep. For all the pleasure she's giving and receiving, Glenna wants more than skin-on-skin interaction--and Eric realizes he's about to lose the intimate connection he didn't know he needed. Can they find the courage to take this game to the next level?

As hot as it is heartwarming, Christine d'Abo's fresh, witty novel proves that practice makes perfect, and that some games are worth playing…

BUY NOW
Amazon | B & N Google | iTunes | Kobo


“I’m telling you, the staff barbecue is the perfect place for you to talk to him.” She opened her lunch and the smell of kimchi rice filled the room.
The him she was referring to was Professor Eric Morris. The tall, dark-haired, super-fit sociology professor had a voice that could melt hearts and drop panties with a simple hello. Professor Eric Morris, who had more female students in his class than anyone else on campus. A man who rarely smiled, but when he looked at you there was no doubt he not only saw you, but every thought and feeling that flitted through your head. He starred in far too many of my nightly fantasies for me to admit without sounding like a crazy, obsessed stalker.
The man, who in the year and a bit that he’d been teaching at the college, I’d barely managed to say two words to, because I was, as Jasmine put it, a coward.
“I love you like a sister, Jaz. But there is no way I’m going to say anything to him. Ever.”
It was the Friday before the Labor Day weekend, the last workday before the start of the school year. Most of the professors from the college were gone, taking their last bit of vacation to play golf, read, or do whatever their passions happened to be. I loved working this time of year. The school was quiet. It always felt as though someone had taken a deep breath and were waiting to exhale. A collective pause before the chaos to come.
This year was going to be especially awesome. Professor Mickelson, my boss, had already been away for three months on his semester-long sabbatical. I still had four more months of only communicating with him via e-mail. Heaven!
“Are you insane?” Jasmine threw her napkin at me. “This is the perfect time for you to do it. He’ll be there. You’ll be there. Your crazy boss won’t be there. You might even be able to relax and have fun for once.”
She was my best friend in the whole wide world, but there were times when Jasmine scared the shit out of me. I looked down at my hands and picked at the dry skin around my nail. “I just can’t.”
“What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll say no. At the very least you’ll have an answer and you can move on to someone else.”
A grad student chose that moment to come into the kitchen. He didn’t even look at us as he made his way to the coffee machine. I leaned forward to close the distance between me and Jasmine. “I’m quite happy with my fantasies, thank you.”
“I bet you are. I bet you dream about climbing up his body and licking every inch of his skin.”
The grad student looked at us wide-eyed before he spun away quickly. I got the impression he was still listening, no doubt wanting to get some dirt that could be passed around the student lounge. Great, like I needed that kind of attention.
I nodded my head in the direction of our friend. “Can you keep your voice down a bit?”
“Not if you’re not going to listen to my advice.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, her eyes locked onto mine. “You need to make a move before someone else snatches him up.”
Now the grad student wasn’t even pretending that he wasn’t paying attention. Jasmine must have picked up on it too, because in the next instant she turned around and glared at him. “Don’t you have someplace to be, Stuart? Like running your tutorial?”
“Ah, yeah. Yes.” For a moment I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head.
“Then move your ass.” Jasmine pointed at the door and narrowed her gaze.
I’d never seen a person move that quickly before in my life.
When she turned her glare back on me, I knew I wasn’t going to be spared anything. “Glenna, I know you don’t believe me, but this is the truth. You are not meant to be alone. You and Eric would be cute together. He’s serious, you’re serious. Just think about what sex would be like with him. Jesus, if I weren’t gay even I’d be tempted to take him for a ride my-self.”
And there was a mental picture I so didn’t want—my best friend and my crush fucking.
“I hate you.” I pulled my tuna sandwich out of my container and took a giant bite. “He doesn’t even know I’m alive. Saying hello to him at the barbecue isn’t going to do anything to help get him into my bed.”
“Well, you can’t expect him to fuck you if you can’t at least have a simple conversation.” She took a big bite of her kimchi and waved her fork around. “Maybe you can get drunk and then grope his ass. Then you’d have to go apologize. There might be groveling. ‘Oh, please Eric, how can I ever make it up to you?’” She batted her eyelashes at me before laughing. “You should see your face.”
“You’re an asshole. Why are we even friends?”
“Because I showed you how to shotgun a beer our first week of college.”
“Only after I saved your ass with that essay.”
But as she knew, my brain does this thing that as soon as someone puts a thought out there I can’t help but picture how things will work out, all the way to their natural conclusion. In my head I saw myself at the party. Eric would walk by on his way to the food table or something. I’d “accidentally” bump into him as he passed me and look into his eyes all surprised. Maybe I’d even spill a drink on myself. He’d think he’d done it and would help me clean myself.
I’m sorry, Glenna. How can I make up for this?
Oh nothing. It was an accident.
I can’t stand by while I’ve done you wrong. At least let me give you a clean shirt.
I’d blush, of course, because who wouldn’t. Thank you.
Why don’t you take mine? His voice would be that low rumble that always seemed to turn me on. His eyes would be locked onto me as he’d slowly unbutton his shirt.
Wow, Eric. Your chest is so firm.
Would you like to see the rest of me?
And bam, crazy-monkey sex!
If only.
I cleared my throat and quickly took another bite of my sandwich. “I don’t think Eric likes anyone. Or has sex. Or anything. He’s always on his own.”
“Baby, I’ve seen that man. He’s having sex. As much as he wants with whomever he wants to do it with. I keep telling you all you need to do is go after him.”
“He doesn’t know I’m alive,” I said again. And I was essentially a coworker. That went against so many things on my mental “don’t touch” list I couldn’t fathom it.
“Whose fault is that? Not his. If you want someone then you need to do something about it. Life doesn’t reward the cautious.”
“Sometimes it does.”
“You don’t believe that.”
I hated when she was right. “Maybe.”
“You’re a research assistant who lives in the world of studies and observations. Talk to him—hell, I was serious about the groping. I’m sure you could chalk this up to some exception-ally hands-on research project.”
“God, you’re a child sometimes. I don’t need a man to fulfill me when I have a perfectly good vibrator at home to help—”
“Baby, all you do is masturbate.”
“—live out my fantasies. I’d be scared that the reality would never live up to the imaginary Eric that I’ve created in my head.”
It was in that moment that my skin began to tingle. We were still alone in the kitchen, but I could have sworn someone was there. It was probably Stuart standing outside in the hall trying to get some more dirt. Well, he was out of luck because I was done being browbeaten by Jasmine.
“I need to get back soon. Professor Mickelson left me a pile of books to pull and outline for him. He’ll be chasing me through e-mails if I’m not done soon.”
Thankfully, she sighed, signaling the end of her teasing. “When does the old goat get back?”
“He’s off all term, but he’s threatened to come back around the end of October for a check-in. Then I’m sure he’ll have me buried in another bunch of new projects before the next term starts.”
“I’d better head out too. I have a one-thirty meeting. Apparently the CS profs want to do a study on online learning again. I have to pull some old case studies so they don’t rehash an old thesis.”
“Blah.”
The echo of our chairs scraping as we stood filled the room. One second I was picking up my garbage and taking it to the garbage can, and in the next I was face-to-face with the object of my lust.
Professor Eric Morris stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. Well, stood isn’t quite the right description. It’s more like he loomed. He’s probably only a smidgen over six feet tall, but being only five foot four myself, it makes for a huge difference from my perspective. Mind you, being eye level with his chest was no hardship. His dress shirts fit him perfectly, but they couldn’t hide the muscles beneath. As usual, I was paying more attention to his pecs—Were they really as firm as they looked?— rather than his face. That was why I didn’t immediately notice him staring at me. Which he totally was.
And there was my blush. “Umm, hi, Professor Morris.”
Woot, go me! I finally spoke to him.
“Glenna.”
God, his voice! It was a lot lower than any other man’s voice that I knew and had a way of seeping into my body when he spoke. Could the sound of a voice be an aphrodisiac? If so, then I could listen to him read the phone book and probably have an orgasm.
Jasmine cleared her throat and I realized that we’d been standing staring at each other for longer than was normal. I looked at the garbage in my hand and then at the garbage can directly behind him. “Umm, sorry. I just need to . . .”
I’d half-expected him to move to the side so I could reach it. Instead he stayed put, forcing me to step awkwardly around him. I clamped my mouth closed as I moved so he wouldn’t be subjected to the stench of my tuna breath. As I brushed past him, I got a nose full of his aftershave. It wasn’t a brand that I knew, but he smelled awesome and it always made me a bit giddy when he was nearby. I could always tell when he’d been in a room, my nose keenly aware of his lingering scent.
It was only after I finally dropped my garbage into the bin that Eric moved over to the coffee machines. I wasn’t a close colleague to him and hadn’t worked on any of his projects since he’d come to the school, so I didn’t have much I could say to him. Not that he was particularly easy to speak to with his back to us. I scampered over to the table and grabbed my things. “I need to stop and get some paper for my printer.”
“Cool.” Jasmine was clearly trying to fight off a laughing fit. “Want to grab a coffee before we go? You look like you could use one.”
I’m going to kill her. “No, I’m good for now.”
Just before we left the kitchen, Jasmine piped up. “Have a great day, Professor Morris.”
“You as well, Ms. Houng, Glenna.”
Yes, she was going to die in the most painful way possible.
Somehow I managed to keep my mouth shut until we were out of earshot. “I hate you.”
“Are you kidding me? For a second I thought he was going to throw you over the table and fuck you in front of me.”
“You’re high. He doesn’t know me.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. He knew your name, which means he knows who you are. And you couldn’t see his face the way I did. Not only does that boy know you’re alive, but he’s interested.”
“Whatever.” She was just trying to get me going. He couldn’t be interested.
As we were about to turn the corner, I looked back down the hall toward the kitchen. Eric was standing there, coffee cup in his hand, staring back at me.
He wasn’t interested, was he?
Until today I didn’t even think he remembered my name.
We were almost back to the office when I heard my cell phone ringing. I missed it, but when I finally got to my desk and checked, I saw that there were four missed calls from my mom. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Jasmine turned her seat to face me.
“Not sure yet. Sec. Hey, Mom. Sorry, I was at lunch.”
“Glenna, hon.” It took no time to realize that she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong? Is it Dad?”
“No, your father’s fine. It’s Great Glenna.”
I closed my eyes and felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh no.”
“She’s in the hospital, but the doctors aren’t sure she’s going to make it through the night. Can you come?”
“Where are you?”
“They took her to St. Joseph’s.”
“I’m on my way.”
Jasmine was on her feet standing in front of me when I hung up. “Hon, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my great-grandmother. She’s dying.”


Don't miss book one, 30 DAYS!




Christine d’Abo is a romance novelist and short story writer, with over thirty publications to her name. She loves to exercise and stops writing just long enough to keep her body in motion too. When she’s not pretending to be a ninja in her basement, she’s most likely spending time with her husband, daughters, and her two dogs.




a Rafflecopter giveaway

Virtual Tour w/Giveaway: Hanging by a Thread by Jenna Sutton


Enter to Win a $50.00 Amazon eGift Card


HANGING BY A THREAD
Riley O'Brien & Co. #3
Jenna Sutton
Releasing June 7th, 2016
Berkley Sensation


Thirty-year-old Bebe Banerjee is desperate to get rid of two things: her fiancĂ© and her virginity. Escaping her arranged marriage might be impossible, but she refuses to give her firsts to an entitled jerk who lives on another continent. Instead, she devises a plan that guarantees another man will get her momentous firsts. But she never imagined that man would be Cal O’Brien, the gorgeous heir to the Riley O’Brien & Co. denim empire…

Although Cal has always been fascinated by Bebe’s brilliant mind and beautiful eyes, he’s never pursued her. She can’t stand the sight of him, and every time they’re in the same room, they end up trading insults. Yet when he finds out about Bebe’s bold plan, he makes his move, unaware of her upcoming nuptials. He promises to make her firsts unforgettable, but he doesn’t know how hard it will be to forget her when their arrangement ends.

BUY NOW
Amazon | B & N |GoogleiTunes | Kobo





Chaste. Untouched. Maiden. Pure. Innocent. The words that described a virgin might sound pretty, but the truth was downright ugly, at least in Bebe Banerjee’s opinion. She was convinced her virginity was the reason her heart raced, her breath seized, and her palms sweated whenever she was near Cal O’Brien.
Bebe surreptitiously studied Cal, trying to ignore the wave of lust that surged over her. If she’d had some experience between the sheets, she was sure she’d be able to handle the way he made her feel.
If she had gotten naked with a few guys, maybe she wouldn’t obsess about his glacier-blue eyes and his thick, dark hair. Maybe she wouldn’t notice the way his jeans clung to his tight behind and long legs. Maybe she wouldn’t fantasize about his lips, his smile, his big hands . . .
Bebe desperately wished she could just avoid him, but his little sister, Teagan, was her best friend. If she wanted to spend time with Teagan, she had to put up with Cal. She said no to a lot of Teagan’s invitations to hang out because of him, and she had to be very careful not to offend her best friend.
That was why the object of her X-rated fantasies stood next to her in a club-level suite at PacBell Park. The San Francisco Giants were in the playoffs, battling against the Atlanta Braves to win the National League pennant, and Teagan had invited her to attend the game in the Riley O’Brien & Co. suite.
Founded by Teagan’s great-great-grandfather, Riley O’Brien & Co. was the nation’s oldest designer and manufacturer of blue jeans. Americans had worn Rileys for nearly two centuries. In fact, Bebe was wearing a pair right now.
Teagan and her brothers were involved in the day-to-day operations of Riley O’Brien & Co. She managed the company’s law department, while her oldest brother, Quinn, served as president and CEO, and Cal handled global marketing and communications. Even Quinn’s wife, Amelia, was involved in the company, heading up the women’s division.
Beside her, Cal shifted slightly and took a pull on his Shiner Bock. He was close enough to touch, and she clenched her hands into fists just in case her fingers suddenly decided to act out her secret fantasies. He didn’t even look her way, and he probably wouldn’t unless he felt the need to toss an insult at her.
“How was Antigua?” Cal asked, directing the question to his sister and her new husband, Nick Priest.
“It was the most amazing place I’ve ever been,” Teagan said, her blue eyes shining and her glossy lips turned up in a smile.
Teagan and Nick had just returned from their three-week honeymoon to the Caribbean island. Both of them were glowing from their tans and their newlywed status.
“We were lucky we had our own private beach because Nick is apparently an exhibitionist,” Teagan added with a lustful gleam in her eyes.
Nick was a former professional football player, and he had been voted as one of the “Sexiest Men Alive” by People magazine. With his blond hair and bright green eyes, he was gorgeous, no doubt about it. But in Bebe’s opinion, he wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as Cal.
No one is as gorgeous as Cal.
Nick leaned down and whispered something into Teagan’s ear, something that was obviously naughty because her face turned the color of cherries. When he straightened to his full six-five and saw her red cheeks, he chuckled.
“You’re so bad,” Teagan muttered, lightly slapping Nick’s chest. In response, he grabbed her hand, hauled her up against him, and kissed her . . . with tongue.
Cal made a gagging noise. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “do you have to do that in front of me?”
Teagan pulled away from Nick. “Please,” she shot back, her voice full of disgust. “Do know how many times I had to listen to my high school friends talk about you and your big—”
Much to Bebe’s disappointment, Cal covered his sister’s mouth with his hand and cut off the rest of Teagan’s sentence. She tried to pull his fingers away, and finally she got free by elbowing him in the stomach.
Laughing, Cal stumbled sideways into Bebe, almost knocking her over. He grabbed her forearm to steady her, his hand hot against her skin, and she gasped. Even the slightest touch from him made her pulse pound, and she tugged her arm to get away from him.
Instead of releasing her, his fingers tightened. She looked up . . . way up. He was almost as tall as Nick, and he loomed over her by more than a foot. He was a little leaner than Teagan’s husband but still solid muscle. His faded Giants T-shirt showed off his broad shoulders, impressive biceps, and ropy forearms. He’d paired the shirt with ancient Rileys that fit him like a glove and well-worn boots.
“Sorry about that, Cookie,” Cal apologized offhandedly.
“I told you not to call me that,” she snapped, trying to jerk her arm free.
She hated it when he called her Cookie, and he knew it. Of course, that was why he did it.
He had come up with the nickname right after he’d found out she had a medical degree in addition to her MBA and law degree. He’d claimed it was a better moniker than Bebe since she was such a smart cookie, but she knew it wasn’t a compliment.
“I thought you liked nicknames.” He smiled angelically and widened his eyes to look innocent. “You call Teagan kanya all the time.”
Kanya was Bebe’s nickname for her best friend. It meant “girl” in Hindi, the native language of her Indian ancestors. She had been born and raised in the United States, but using Hindi words was one way she stayed connected to her heritage.
“Teagan and I are friends,” she pointed out.
He got her message loud and clear because his eyes got all squinty. “I can be friendly.”
Yes, he could be friendly. In fact, he was friendly to everyone but her. He never had anything nice to say to her, and she returned the sentiment.
She wasn’t sure who had struck first, probably her, but now they launched verbal missiles at each other with frequency and precision. He went out of his way to be rude and antagonistic, and she did the same.
Bebe knew the real reason she acted like such a bitch around Cal. She liked him, and she didn’t want him to suspect how she really felt. She didn’t want to be the pathetic geeky girl with a crush on the hot guy.
Before Cal, she had never been attracted to any man. She’d never even experienced a high school crush because she had entered the ninth grade when she was twelve and had graduated when she was fifteen. She had immediately headed off to college, and she’d obtained two bachelor’s degrees in three years.
By the time she had been able to vote, she had been in her first year of medical school. She’d become accustomed to being viewed as a study partner rather than a sex partner.
She wasn’t oblivious, though, and over the years, she had noticed good-looking men. But she had never felt that zing of sexual attraction until she had met Cal four years ago. She hated the way he made her feel: gauche, nervous, and overstimulated. When he was near, sounds were louder, colors were brighter, and smells were stronger.
Right now, she could smell him, a panty-soaking aroma of warm male and expensive cologne. It was so delicious, she could barely concentrate on the conversation swirling around her.
“Even though Antigua was amazing, I’m glad to be home,” Teagan said, ignoring Cal and Bebe’s sniping. “I missed everyone. Mom and Dad. Quinn and Amelia. Bebe. Letty.”
“You didn’t miss me?” Cal asked, feigning hurt feelings.
Bebe knew Teagan had intentionally excluded Cal, trying to annoy him. The O’Brien siblings teased one another mercilessly. Their relationship was so different from the one Bebe had with her older brothers.
She rarely talked with Pritam and Ranjit, and when she did, they definitely didn’t tease her. They didn’t even call her Bebe. They insisted on referring to her by her full name, Bindu, which she hated.
“No. I missed Kim more than I missed you,” Teagan replied, referring to the woman who did her nails at the swanky spa she frequented.
Teagan’s snarky response made laughter well in Bebe’s throat. Before she could choke them back, giggles escaped her. Cal stiffened next to her, and she mentally prepared for their next verbal battle.
Ready. Aim. Fire.



5 Stars

Where do I start, Hanging by a Thread, it was such a wonderful romance. I just fell in love with Cal he was such a sweetheart, he wanted to give Bebe all her firsts & love doing all of it. The chemistry between Cal & Bebe was HOT, HOT, HOT, it made me HOT. The bantering between Cal & Bebe was so delightful you could just see from the beginning how much the truly liked each even when they thought each other hated the other one. This book had everything this reader loves in a book, nosy but caring family & friends, laughs, a few tears & chemistry out of the is world between the two main characters. Jenna Sutton has earned a new fan in this reader, I will definitely be going trying to find a way to get Quinn & Amelia, Jake & Teague’s books, if they are as good as Cal & Bebe’s I know this reader is in for a treat. If you are looking for a beach read or a vacation read recommend you grab a copy of Hanging by a Thread. Thank you to Tasty Book Tours for the opportunity to read & review Hanging by a Thread.






Jenna Sutton is a former award-winning journalist who traded fact for fiction when she began writing novels. Surprisingly, the research she conducted for her articles provided a lot of inspiration for her books.

Jenna is the author of the Riley O’Brien & Co. romances including All the Right Places and Coming Apart at the Seams. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from Texas Christian University and a Master’s degree in Integrated Marketing Communications from Northwestern University.

Jenna and her husband live in a 103-year-old house in Texas affectionately known as “The Money Pit”. You can find out more about her and her books by visiting www.jennasutton.com.



a Rafflecopter giveaway