Blog Tour: A Lie for a Lie

From the New York Times bestselling author of the Pucked series comes a romantic comedy about instant attraction, second chances, and not-so-little white lies.

Sometimes I need an escape from the demands, the puck bunnies, and the notoriety that come with being an NHL team captain. I just want to be a normal guy for a few weeks. So when I leave Chicago for some peace and quiet, the last thing I expect is for a gorgeous woman to literally fall into my lap on a flight to Alaska. Even better, she has absolutely no idea who I am.

Lainey is the perfect escape from my life. My plan for seclusion becomes a monthlong sex fest punctuated with domestic bliss. But it ends just as abruptly as it began. When I’m called away on a family emergency, I realize too late that I have no way to contact Lainey.

A year later, a chance encounter throws Lainey and me together again. But I still have a lie hanging over my head, and Lainey’s keeping secrets of her own. With more than lust at stake, the truth may be our game changer.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited! 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KeBlqZ

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Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2MTMWOC

Audio: https://amzn.to/2KM4CZF

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2MJpbIG

Excerpt

I stuff my earbuds in and cue up a movie on my entertainment console. After the last flight, I deserve three hours of brain candy.

Just as I settle on an action flick, a body lands in my lap. At first, I think I’m being accosted—yet again. It’s not unusual for women to literally throw themselves at me. Typically I’m not on a plane, though, but considering my last flight I shouldn’t be surprised by anything right now. “What the—”

“I’m so sorry!” says the voice attached to the body in my lap. She scrambles to right herself but jerks back, gagging, her tidal wave of silky, dark hair slapping me in the face. It smells like mint and cucumber, which would be nice if it weren’t in my mouth.

She grabs my shirt with one hand and catches my earbuds, yanking them free. The other hand curls under the fabric wrapped tightly around her throat. She’s sprawled across my lap, legs hanging over the armrest, face level with mine. She’s totally blocking the aisle, making it impossible for anyone to get by and creating quite the spectacle. “My scarf is caught,” she rasps. “Oh my God. I’m choking myself. I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.” The more she struggles, the more the scarf tightens, which in turn causes her to flail.

I slide a supporting arm behind her. “Stay still for a sec.”

She freezes, still gripping my shirt, eyes wide with panic. I turn my head to the side and lean forward. Her lips connect with my cheek.

“Oh!” She tries to turn away, but she really is stuck, so her nose ends up in my ear and her lips are still pressed against my jaw.

“Just give me a few more seconds, and you’ll be free.” She exhales heavily against my jaw, warm breath making my skin prickle. I lift her carry-on and use my foot to pull the scarf free from the wheel.

She loosens the fabric around her throat, dragging in a long, deep breath. “Thank you. So much. Choking to death on an attractive man’s lap really isn’t the way I wanted to go.” She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes to a stand. “I’m so sorry.”

She keeps her gaze averted as she gathers up the scarf that never seems to end. It gives me time to check her out. Well, shit. This woman is hot. Like Pour a gallon of gasoline on me and light me on fire hot. She has long dark hair, a shade of brown so deep it’s nearly black. Her eyes are the color of coffee or chocolate—something with caffeine in it. Something that would amp me up. And her face . . . daaaaamn. High cheekbones, full lips, a dainty nose, arched brows, thick lashes.

I take in the rest of the package, which gives me pause because her outfit is just . . . out there. She’s wearing a full-on parka, hiding her figure, but based on her legs I’m thinking she’s probably slender. That’s a guess, though, with all the layers she has going on. And that scarf has to be a mile long with how many times she winds it around her neck, hence the near strangulation.

Her little wardrobe malfunction has resulted in a line of people waiting to board, so she rushes down the aisle, throwing another “So sorry” over her shoulder as she disappears into coach.

I’m almost disappointed. Almost, but not quite. I plug my earbuds back in and veg out to movies for the next three hours.

About Helena Hunting 

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy. 

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Book Blast: Miss Felicity's Dilemma

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

ALL SHE WANTS IS HER OWN HOME

Miss Felicity Chambers is the new teacher of piano and deportment at Miss Manville’s Academy for Superior Girls. There is no reason a duke should contact her. There is certainly no reason she should marry his son. But that is evidently what the duke wants. Felicity should be delighted. But the orphaned schoolteacher has long since stopped believing in fairy tales. If only the duke’s son weren’t so compelling…

ALL HE WANTS IS THIS HOME

Lord Flint Bracken knows just what is behind the duke’s command, and it isn’t an attempt to secure a happily-ever-after for his son. The proposal is one of the duke’s schemes. Flint has no choice but to cooperate, though, or he risks more than his home. He risks national security. So court a penniless schoolteacher he must. He should be furious. But Felicity Chambers isn’t at all what he expected. She might very well be what he wants…

Read an Excerpt

It wasn't until she heard the door close that she breathed a sigh of relief. Time to escape from under the bed.

“Aren’t you growing cramped under there?” Lord Flint suddenly asked.

Felicity’s eyes flew open to find an upside-down face where the boots had been. Her heart dropped like a stone.

“Not at all,” she said, proud at how composed she sounded. “I am quite petite. But you really should have someone sweep under here. The dust balls are the size of wolfhounds.”

He reached a hand under the bed. For a moment Felicity just stared at it, unable to move. Even in the shadows it was a beautiful hand, with long, elegant fingers and a strong wrist. And she noticed beautiful hands. She was also, after all, the substitute art teacher for Miss Manners Academy for Superior Girls.

“I'm getting a crick in my neck,” Lord Flint growled, wiggling his fingers.

Felicity gave up and took hold. And gasped. It felt as if she'd been rubbing her stockinged feet on the carpet on a cold winter’s day and gotten a shock. She had heard of such a thing, of course, in every Minerva Press novel she had ever secreted under her pillow. But she had always thought it a literary device. A myth.

That was no myth tingling up her arm.

Before she had a chance to do more than stare at the offending member, Lord Flint grasped her tightly and pulled her out from under the bed. She came out in a tangle of arms and legs, dragging dust after her.

How mortifying, she thought, brushing madly at her sensible gray kerseymere skirts.

“Er....”

She looked up and forgot what she was going to say. She forgot her name.

He was beautiful. Tall and lean and russet-haired, with eyes the color of spring leaves and a humorous cant to his mouth. Chiseled features, square shoulders, slim hips. Hard and sharp as quartz.

Suddenly his name wasn’t so funny.

About the Author:

New York Times Bestselling, award-winning author Eileen Dreyer has published 40 novels and 10 short stories under her name and that of her evil twin, Kathleen Korbel in contemporary romance, paranormal romance, historical romance, romantic suspense, mystery and medical forensic suspense. A proud member of RWA's Hall of FAME, she also has numerous awards from RT BookLovers and an Anthony nomination for mystery. She is now focusing on what she calls historic romantic adventure in her DRAKE'S RAKES series. A native of St. Louis, she still lives there with her family. She has animals but refuses to subject them to the limelight.

http://eileendreyer.com/
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/eileen-dreyer
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19012.Eileen_Dreyer
https://www.amazon.com/Eileen-Dreyer/e/B000AQ3F2O/
https://www.facebook.com/EileenDreyer/
https://twitter.com/eileendreyer?lang=en
https://www.instagram.com/eileendreyerauthor/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Miss-Felicitys-Dilemma-Drakes-Rakes-ebook/dp/B07WWJSFJW
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/miss-felicitys-dilemma-eileen-dreyer/1133345594?ean=2940163616749
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/miss-felicity-s-dilemma
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/miss-felicitys-dilemma/id1478890709

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Sunday Post #33: What Do You Think? 4

Yes, it's another one. I didn't intend to continue with this kind of Sunday Posts. However, I enjoy reading what people see in my simple drawings. What do you see?Feel? (If Anything)

Random movement of an eight ounce glass

Post Rewind

📌 3rd =Book Blast: Live Soldier

📌 8th = Release Blitz: Baking Me Crazy

📌 9th = Review Tour: Cross Crease

📌 10th = Book Blast: Ropin' the Moon

📌 11th =Book Blast: Wait

Moolt Cartoon of the Week

No cartoon this week

"Heads Up" - Upcoming Posts

🔼 15th = Book Blast: Miss Felicity's Dilemma

Goodreads

📚 Cross Crease ( by: Elizabeth Hartey ) = moved to "read" shelf

📚Cross Stroke ( by: Elizabeth Hartey) = added to "want to read" shelf

Currently Reading

📖 Rescue Me (by: Valerie Twombly) = 6%

*** If you don't know what to say on this week's Sunday Post topic, you can comment on any other part of the post or just say "hi".

The Sunday Post is a weekly meme hosted by Kimba @ Caffeinated Book Reviewer

Book Blast: Wait

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rebecca Brewster Stevenson will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What are you waiting for?

Everyone has endured the endless traffic light, the queue that goes nowhere, the elevator music piped through the phone line. But what of those periods in your life when everything seems on hold? When you can't do the next thing in your professional or personal life because you can't get to it?

Waiting—be it for health, a life partner, a child, a job—can be an agony. The persistently unrealized goal feels like an endless road. And hope's constant deferment can be exhausting. A firm answer against the thing you're hoping for—"no"—might be easier than this constant lack of closure. It might be easier to give it up.

But what if waiting means to be something else? Waiting doesn't have to mean idleness. Our prolonged state of need might teach us to look beyond the desired goal to something infinitely better. We find lessons on this throughout the Bible and, if we are paying attention, in our own lives.

Rather than fostering frustration, periods of waiting might have great truths to tell us. It might show us that hope is worthwhile. Waiting might even be a gift in and of itself.

Read an Excerpt

The first lesson of waiting is that we are on the outside. Like the boy on the sideline; like the not-engaged friend who pins wedding gowns on Pinterest; like me squinting for lines that fail to emerge on the pregnancy test; none of us--whether or not we are actively waiting-- is where we want to be. This might not seem true, of course. This actually might seem patently untrue. You might be happily ensconced in a loving family, a marriage, a tight-knit circle of friends. You might belong to a country club or a sorority, a church, a civic group.

But, like that of all who wait, the human condition is actually a condition of being on the outside, an unhappy state that writers and poets have noticed since time out of mind. It's true of all of us, but we manage to obscure it from ourselves with all manner of distraction: accumulated wealth and possessions, meaningful or frivolous activity, even what is truly good and beautiful.

The problem is that you can't contend with something if you simultaneously ignore it. And the fact of our exile--the fundamental state of all human existence--is not going away.

Waiting can teach us this.

About the Author:

Rebecca Brewster Stevenson is a native of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She has a master's degree from Duke University and has lived in Durham, North Carolina for over 20 years with her husband and three children.

Before dedicating herself to writing full time, Rebecca worked with Trinity School of Durham and Chapel Hill to develop the curriculum for their humanities department; she also worked as an English teacher at public and private middle and high schools in Durham and Pittsburgh. Rebecca's debut novel Healing Maddie Brees was published in 2016 to literary acclaim. Her beautifully crafted personal essays on her blog "Small Hours" have earned her a strong audience of readers who enjoy her explorations of themes relating to family, marriage, faith, writing, language, literature, and film.

"Rebecca Brewster Stevenson's writing is consistently powerful, complex, honest, and hopeful" (Andy Crouch, author, Culture Making and The Tech-Wise Family). Rebecca's writing has also been called "exquisite" (Stephen Chbosky), "thought-provoking" (Barbara Claypole White), and "gorgeous" (Kirkus Reviews).

Website: https://rebeccabrewsterstevenson.com
Blog: https://rebeccabrewsterstevenson.com/blog/
Light Messages: https://www.lightmessages.com/rebecca-brewster-stevenson
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RebeccaBrewsterStevenson
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/rebeccabrewsterstevenson
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/rbstevenson1

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Book Blast: Ropin' the Moon

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Deborah Camp will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

He had tumbleweed in his blood, moving from one town to the next. Traveling to where there was trouble, Dalton Moon was hired to tame wild places with a fast draw and an iron will. Lacy Tyrell knew that Dalton wouldn’t be around long and she shouldn’t be tempted by him. But like the moon, his pull on her was a natural, powerful force that she was helpless to resist.

Read an Excerpt:

“You could come with me, Lacy. Nothing’s keeping you here.” The words tumbled out before his brain had time to process them, but they felt right. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Are you dangling a carrot in front of me with no intention of ever allowing me to take a bite of it? If you are, I might just slap your face.”

Dalton caught her wrists in his and grinned, not the least bit bothered by her threat. He couldn’t blame her for doubting him. “I’m not dangling anything. What would stop you from coming with me when I leave Far Creek? Would you even consider it?”

Pink color pooled in her cheeks. She stared at his shirt button, refusing to meet his eyes when she whispered, “Perhaps.”

The world paused, suspended by her one-word answer. “Perhaps?” he repeated, needing to be sure that’s what he’d heard.

Her shoulders bobbed. “It depends on if you ask me the right question before you ask me to leave Far Creek with you.” Now her gaze slid up and she peered at him through the curtain of her sable lashes.

His breath whistled down his throat. The right question? Oh, hell. What did he say to that? Was he ready to ask that of her? Was he even worthy of asking her? Before he could say another word, she made a sound of impatience and ripped from his loosened grasp. With a flounce of petticoats and the lash of her thick braid across his chin, she was gone.

Dalton stood in the dark alley, breathing heavily as if he’d just chased down a cougar – a cougar that smelled like strawberries and talcum powder. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes, feeling vulnerable, stripped bare. She owned him. Lacy, with her golden hair and blue-sky eyes, had lassoed and hobbled him.

About the Author:

Whatever type of romance you love to read, Deborah Camp writes it. From sweet to sexy, contemporary to historical

Author of more than 50 romances, both contemporary and historical, Deborah received the very first Janet Dailey Award (given to a romance novel that best addressed a social problem). My Wild Rose deals with battered women and children in 1800s with Carrie Nation as a character in the novel. Solitary Horseman also won the In d’tale Magazine’s Rone Award. Deborah loves writing stories that are centered on brave women and honorable men.

Deborah’s books have been praised by reviewers, bloggers, and readers who love complex characters and clever plotting. She always mixes in a bit of humor and a lot of heart.

She’s been a full-time writer since graduating from the University of Tulsa. Her first novel was published in the late 1970s and her books have been published by Jove, New American Library, Harlequin, Silhouette, Avon, and Amazon. She was inducted into the Oklahoma Authors Hall of Fame and she’s a charter member of the Romance Writers of America. She’s also a member of the Author’s Guild.

Communicating with readers and other writers is something she enjoys, so don't be shy about visiting her online.

Be sure to join her Happy Campers Super Cool Reader Group on her website to receive a copy of one of her romances novels free and participate in it on Goodreads, too.

WEBSITE: http://www.deborah-camp.com
EMAIL: deborahcampauthor@yahoo.com
FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/officialdeborahcamp
PINTEREST: http://www.pinterest.com/debbycamp44/
BLOG: http://www.deborahcampwritersdesk.blogspot.com
TWITTER: http://www.twitter.com/authordebcamp
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/198990

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XQPJMV8?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420

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