Margay Leah Justice: S.L. Jennings

Showing posts with label S.L. Jennings. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

BOOK TOUR and GIVEAWAY: Ink & Lies by S.L. Jennings

Are you ready to meet Rhys & Fi in the newest romantic

stand alone by S.L. Jennings?

INK & LIES IS NOW LIVE!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1PiWzM6

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1PiWGqX

iBooks: http://apple.co/1S2GcJ4

Nook: http://bit.ly/1O05C2w

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1O05Gzp

Blurb

From International Best Selling Romance Novelist, Hope Hughes, comes a gripping, heartfelt tale of two lovers, fighting for the freedom to…

No. Scratch that. Too cheesy.

…two people, torn apart by the tumultuous tides of life, only to discover refuge in…

WTF? What does that even mean? DELETE.

…two people, confused as shit as to where they should be and who they should love and none of this means a damn thing because it’s all lies!

Lies.

I’m not Hope Hughes. I’m not some fierce woman romance machine. Hell, I’m not even a woman.

I’m a liar.

And while I refuse to believe my own BS, deceit masked in heartfelt phrases of love and devotion, I want to make her believe them. Because maybe—just maybe—if she can find the soul within my words, she’ll also be able to find the truth scribbled on my heart.

You see, I once lived for the perfect plot twist.

I just never expected to actually live it.

This is my story. Well, maybe her story. I just wish I could make it our story.

The one I’m still writing.

Excerpt

“Yeah, but…” Her eyes grow wide and glossy as she tries to sift through all the reasons why that theory shouldn’t apply to her. In the end, she relies on her heart. “You said I wasn’t like those other women…that those other women weren’t me.”

I should tell her she’s right. I should put her out of her misery and reassure her that the last ten years were as real and meaningful to me as they were for her. That even though I may sling gift-wrapped bullshit for the general public, only she knows the true, honest parts of my heart. But with my tongue possessed by the taste of her rejection, I play the petty card, and do just the opposite.

“I guess I was wrong, especially considering yesterday’s events. Maybe you’re no different from them. And maybe you were right about me…that I do sabotage with sex to keep people at arm’s length. Because in the end, that’s all I want anyway, right?”

“You don’t mean that.”

I nod. “Yeah. I do.”

“So what are you saying?” The hurt is so thick in her throat that I can barely hear the words.

I suck in a breath, and scrub a hand over my forehead. “You were right about me. About us. We shouldn’t have done…what we did. And we can’t move on and pretend that it didn’t change us. What’s done is done.”

“I agree,” she nods, with a tinge of hope in her voice.

“So, maybe we should just see this for what it is—the end. You’re starting your life with Joshua and moving away, and I’m going on with mine.”

“Wait, August. No, that’s not—”

“You didn’t actually think we’d be able to keep this up, did you? What, you thought we’d turn out to be the modern day Cathy and Heathcliff? I’m not some swoony, literary hero, Fi. I’m not here to rescue you from your shitty love life that stems from your shitty childhood.”

“I never said you were—”

I’m rambling, spewing verbal diarrhea all over her blue cashmere, but I can’t stop. I can’t shut off the bile that has been choking me since this morning when she disclosed her impending nuptials. “You have Joshua. He’s the one you chose. He’s the one you want. You made that perfectly clear. So what the fuck do you need with me?”

“I thought we were friends, August. I thought you and me were—”

“Well, I guess you were wrong. Friends don’t fuck each other and then five minutes later get engaged. And why would you want to be friends with some empty, misogynistic prick like me anyway?”

“I-I didn’t mean,” her voice cracks, and the first tear escapes. She quickly dashes it away, refusing to let me play witness to her weakness. But I’ve already seen it. I share that very same weakness that has her bottom lip trembling. I’m just too much of a coward to show it.

“Look, I’m sorry. I think we just need a break.”

“A break. Yes,” she nods, dashing away tears. “You’re right. We both said things we shouldn’t have. Let’s just take a few days to…”

“No. A break from this,” I clarify, gesturing between us. “From us. This isn’t working anymore.”

“You’re being melodramatic, August. We’ve had fights before. We’ve said things we didn’t mean, and we always were able to work it out.”

I shake my head and look away, refusing to acknowledge the dejection on her face. “But I meant everything I said.”

About the Author:

S.L. Jennings is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance, reality TV junkie, obsessive coffee drinker and collector of crazy.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter |Goodreads

GIVEAWAY

Mystery Box w/Signed Paperback

a Rafflecopter giveaway

THANK YOU!

Thursday, February 4, 2016

Excerpt Reveal: Ink & Lies by S.L. Jennings

Prologue

You know that pivotal moment in every love story, when the hero or heroine makes an imperative move that leaves the other with a life-altering choice? Whether it be a pronouncement of love (I’ve been in love with you my entire life, and I don’t care that you’re my stepbrother) or a salacious secret (I’m pregnant and the baby isn’t yours) or a shocking decision (I’ve decided to embrace what I am… I’m transitioning into a unicorn, and I’m pregnant by my stepbrother), we can always count on this familiar occurrence.

I’ve always deemed them cliché yet necessary in the romance genre. A good plot twist is as vital to a story as its characters. Without it, the hero and heroine would have no reason to change, to evolve. They’d have no reason to step out on faith and madness and take hold of their destiny. Take hold of their story.

I once lived for the perfect plot twist.

I just never expected to actually live it.

I look down at my boarding pass for the eightieth time in the last fifteen minutes. Gate 3B, Seat 2A. GEG to LAX. Final boarding in…now.

Sixteen hours ago, I succumbed to the insanity of feeling, and made my crucial confession. I began that almighty trek up a story’s climactic mountain. And every hour, every minute, since, I’ve waited for her to make her choice.

To make me her choice.

The attendant glares at me from over her intercom receiver and announces that the gate for flight D5611 will be closing in sixty seconds. She’s saying it for only me, because I’m the only one here. Waiting. Crumbling.

I take one last look down the corridor that leads to security. I just knew that she’d show up, racing through the airport, screaming for someone to stop the plane. That was how I’d imagined my story…our story. The greatest cliché of all, and I still couldn’t breathe it into fruition. I still couldn’t get her to read between the lines scrawled on my heart.

I guess the most epic romances are still tucked away within the pages of her favorite novels, safely swathed in inked lies and faded paper promises. Forever fictional. Just like love.

Are you ready to meet Rhys & Fi in this romantic stand alone

releasing February 9th!

Add to your TBR at: http://bit.ly/1P7uppp

**Pre-order links**

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1PiWzM6

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1PiWGqX

Blurb

From International Best Selling Romance Novelist, Hope Hughes, comes a gripping, heartfelt tale of two lovers, fighting for the freedom to…

No. Scratch that. Too cheesy.

…two people, torn apart by the tumultuous tides of life, only to discover refuge in…

WTF? What does that even mean? DELETE.

…two people, confused as shit as to where they should be and who they should love and none of this means a damn thing because it’s all lies!

Lies.

I’m not Hope Hughes. I’m not some fierce woman romance machine. Hell, I’m not even a woman.

I’m a liar.

You see, I once lived for the perfect plot twist.

I just never expected to actually live it.

This is my story. Well, maybe her story. I just wish I could make it our story.

The one I’m still writing.

About the Author:

S.L. Jennings is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance, reality TV junkie, obsessive coffee drinker and collector of crazy.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter |Goodreads

THANK YOU!

Monday, November 16, 2015

Virtual Book Tour and Giveaway: TRYST by S.L. Jennings

Enter to Win a

Print Set of TAINT & TRYST

TRYST

A Sexual Education Novel

S.L. Jennings

Releasing Nov 10th, 2015

Avon Books

From New York Times bestselling author S.L. Jennings comes another scandalously sexy, incredibly hot story about a woman who knows what she wants...and the two men who are dying to give her what she needs.

Heidi DuCane is a tough-as-nails publicist with a passion for success and her husband Tucker. While they’re polar opposites, what they do have in common is a fierce love and commitment to each other. But their relationship-in and out of the bedroom-will be put to the ultimate test.

Rock superstar Ransom Reed is every woman’s fantasy, including Heidi’s. When she meets Ransom, she shares a wild night with him where Heidi gets to play-and Tucker watches, and enjoys, the pleasure Ransom gives Heidi. Though Tucker was a willing participant, Heidi still can’t help reeling with guilt. There’s no doubt that she loves her husband. While Tucker is the perfect lover-generous, attentive and gentle-she needs much more. She needs the mind-blowing ecstasy Ransom offers.

Tucker isn’t blind to the fact that Heidi has unconventional needs which he can’t satisfy. He loves his wife and will do anything to please her The night he watched her and Ransom was so scorching hot amnd Tucker can’t stop thinking about it. He decides he wants to join Ransom in pleasing Heidi. But as Tucker and Heidi soon realize, it’s not just the sex that is enticing. Heidi felt something within her awaken, and she felt so deliciously sated and loved by both men. Tucker felt it too, and he finds it impossible not to want that feeling again.

Ransom and Tucker satisfy a need within Heidi. And now that she’s had them, she can never go back to the way things were before.

BUY NOW

Amazon | B & N | iTunes |Kobo

“I dare you…to let me touch your wife.”

An audible gasp escapes my kiss-swollen lips and turn to Tucker, awaiting his wrath. He returns Ransom’s intent stare, his expression unreadable. Yet, the younger man doesn’t back down, cocking a challenging brow at Tuck’s silence. He remains unmovable, a master at the art of restraint from his years as a shrink. No doubt he’s had to answer some odd questions, but never any involving his wife.

“I don’t let Heidi do anything. She has her own mind…her own body.”

“So maybe I should be asking her.” A sinister smile on his lips, Ransom angles his focus on me. “Heidi, would you let me touch you?”

My first reaction is to say no—hell no. But Tucker quickly grasps my knee, capturing my attention.

“This is what you want,” he whispers. “He…is what you want. And I can accept that. This is your fantasy, baby. Let me help you make it come true.”

I search his face, waiting for him to break into laughter, but he’s completely serious. My husband is telling me to let another man put his hands on me—his wife. This isn’t right. This isn’t what married people are supposed to do. But even as that rational part of my brain lists all the reasons why I shouldn’t allow this to go any further, my body is already tingling with anticipation. My face and chest are flush. My nipples harden in exhilaration. And my mouth waters with the prospect of tasting Ransom’s skin.

Oh, God. I do want this. And now the decision is mine and mine alone.

“So?” Ransom asks, awaiting our fate.

Say no.

Grab Tucker’s hand and get the fuck out of here. Go home and make love to him. Let that kind, good, gentle man be enough.

Once again, Ransom Reed steals the truth from my lips, forcing me to abandon all decency and sanity. Making me take the sanctity of my marriage and soil it with my own slick arousal.

In one single breath, I shatter ten years of devotion, trust and love. And although I know what I’m destroying by lighting this fire, I can’t do much more than stand back and watch it all go up in flames.

“Yes.”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

S.L. Jennings is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance, reality TV junkie, obsessive coffee drinker and collector of crazy.

Website | Facebook | Twitter |Goodreads

Don't Miss TAINT

Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Release Blitz and Giveaway: Afraid to Fly by S.L. Jennings

Meet Dirty Dom in this fantastic stand-alone!

AVAILABLE NOW!

Amazon:

Amazon UK:

Barnes & Noble:

iBooks:

Kobo:

Blurb

I’d like to tell you that I’m ok.

That the meaningless sex with countless women has somehow numbed the pain. That it’s deciphered the constant confusion in my head. Eased the self-hatred that sinks into my gut every time I look in the mirror.

I’d like to tell you that time heals all wounds.

That we evolve and grow into well-adjusted, stable adults, set on a path to right the world’s wrongs. That we are not our past…we are not our pain.

I want to tell you all those things. Hell, I want to believe all those things. But I’d be lying. I’m good at that. Living a lie is the only way I truly know how to survive.

But the day I saw her, I stopped surviving. I stopped existing. And for the first time in 24 years, I started living.

She brought me back to life. Set me free and sent my soul soaring. Made this useless shell of a man feel like…something. Something whole and real and good.

She saved me.

Although she believes I wasn’t even worth saving.

This story chronicles the journey of Dominic Trevino, a character from Fear of Falling. However, it can be read as a standalone.

Excerpt #1

I approached her slowly, letting my eyes take in her soft, feminine curves. That’s what I loved the most about women—their softness, their delicateness. It made them appear breakable, just like me. And it made me appreciate that vulnerability, in hopes that someone could—and would—one day, appreciate mine.

That’s why even though I never offered more than a few hours of toe-curling pleasure, I assured each second was spent tending to their sexual desires and making them feel treasured. Just because I was a whore, it didn’t make me callous or uncaring. If anything, it made me more aware of my humanity.

I pushed it all away, trading my own hang-ups and idiosyncrasies for the mental numbness that sex could provide and did what I do best: Fuck. I was good at this part—touching, kissing, licking. And when we were both ready—too ravenous with desire to consider my aversions—I drove into her slowly, all the way to the hilt. Until her body completely covered mine and soothed the ache of loneliness with wet warmth. This was the feeling I had been chasing since I was just a child, barely a man. That sweet oblivion that only mindless sex could provide. I was made whole by emptying myself into another, and for the barest of moments, I became separate from my pain and anger. I became the type of man that could look himself in the mirror and not see the horror of his past standing behind him, its razor sharp claws cutting into the skin of his shoulders while it smiled in that sinister way that still made my skin crawl.

I had seen that malevolence in my dreams every day since as long as I could remember. Sometimes it was in the form of a smile, a laugh. Sometimes it wore the face of ecstasy and passion. But it was always terrifying.

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling long after Alyssa had passed out in blissful exhaustion. She came twice, once by my tongue, the other with her ankles on my shoulders. She was a screamer, and I kept wondering if Angel would bust in here, wondering if I was fucking or killing the girl. Then, if Alyssa was up for it, she’d join, like she had just this past weekend with Cherri. It wasn’t that we wanted each other in that way—oh hell no. We were just better…together. It made it even easier to get out of our heads and lost in the movement of our bodies.

It was co-dependent like a motherfucker. And unhealthy. And unconventional. But it was all we knew.

Excerpt #2

Velvet sucked me until I was on the brink of release and for a quick moment, I thought about just getting it over with. But I needed more. I needed that physical connection. I yearned for her touch, her kiss, her smell. It reminded me that I was not like him. I was not what he had hoped I would be. It stated that just because I had been violated, that didn’t make me…it didn’t make different. It didn’t make me gay. I didn’t want that. I wanted this.

Spreading those shapely, toned thighs and filling her up until I pulsed in her womb validated me. Every stroke was a confirmation, and the deeper I went, the more whole I felt. But the moment it was over, the moment I pulled out of her, my latex-sheathed cock wet with her gratification, the doubt began to claw its way back in. Telling me that I was dirty—stained. Used. Useless.

She smiled lazily at me, the dark kohl outlining her eyes smudged along the apple of her cheek. I brushed it tenderly with the pad of my thumb and told her she was beautiful.

“Oh, Dom. You’re such a sweet gent. Too bloody sweet for this shit,” she giggled, looking soft and girlish. I liked her better that way, untarnished by the hardness of life.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Good guys like you shouldn’t be fucking strippers in the middle of the day. I mean, I’m not complaining—I can still feel you inside me, for crying out loud—but, I don’t know. You deserve better.”

I winced at her words, and how much I longed for them to be true. She was just feeding me more lies, and I was ingesting them like candy.

Except this one. This one I knew would never be true. Even if it was the one I wished for the most.

“Nah, I don’t. They don’t call me Dirty for nothing.”