Category Archives: Uncategorized


Moving into a new town as a child, Rowan befriended two boys named Greg and Mac, eventually earning the kids a nickname of the Three Musketeers. Even as they grew into adulthood, the three would continue their everlasting friendship.

Now, as adults, Greg and Rowan are married, and he has joined the military. Unexpected twists and turns take the two on a dramatic roller coaster as Mac is on the outside looking in.

With Mac’s hands tied behind his back, all he can do is watch and be there for his friends. As the tribulations unfold, Mac is drawn in closer and needs to find a way around his own emotions.

Will their lives be the same? Will Rowan make it through the trials of heartache and pain her new life has taken?

*Buy Links:
Barnes & Noble:


S.M. Knowles wanted to keep her S.M. name separate for her YA Books. Aubrey Kendall is for anything that is not YA or not meant for children to read. She graduated with her Master’s degree in Adult Education and Training in 2012 and is now looking at pursuing her doctoral program. She has been writing since the age of nine, but didn’t pursue publishing until 2013. She lives in Alaska with her two daughters and husband.

Connect with me! – – –
Snapchapt: smknowles01
Checkout my YouTube page and hear the first chapter read by me!
Trailers for other books:

Hosted By


Visit Us Here!



He has everything planned… except her.

Rhys lives a life of solitude — one he’s perfectly content with. That is until his friend Vinny is found murdered. There are secrets and half-truths at every corner, but he’s determined to find out what happened.

Averill is exactly where she wants to be in life after years of running. She’s opened her own boutique and can finally breathe again. She thought she was safe… until her world collides with the dark shadows of Rhys’.

When he unknowingly puts her in the path of a serial killer, will he be able to protect her? Even if it means becoming the killer he’s trained to be?

★Order links★


Amazon →

Amazon UK→

Amazon CA→

Barnes & Noble →

iBooks →

Kobo →

Signed Paperbacks →







Dirty Stranger (The Dirty Suburbs Book 3)

Author: Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Release date: February 22nd, 2017



I’m paying alimony to my idiot ex-husband, my business hardly makes enough to keep the lights on and I’m literally holding my car together with duct tape.

Scratch that, I’m holding my life together with duct tape.

So I won’t go on a date with the mysterious, new-in-town barista who makes my morning soy hazelnut latte just the way I like it.

He’d better stop trying to hypnotize me with those honey eyes and those bulging shoulders that stretch the jersey of his coffee shop uniform, because I have enough on my plate and the last thing I need is yet another liability.


The cinnamon-haired yoga chick who orders the soy hazelnut latte every morning won’t give me a shot. She thinks I’m just some college boy with student loans trying to get in her pants.

Assumptions, assumptions, assumptions…

Well, she’s right about one thing. From the moment she first sauntered into this coffee shop with her long legs and her sad eyes, I’ve wanted to toss her onto the polished wooden counter and show her just how much of a man I am. There’s so much more to me than meets the eye.

I’m just trying to make her fall for me before my secrets make it to town.

“Dirty Stranger” is book three in the “Dirty Suburbs”, a series of full-length, stand-alone romantic comedies about the residents of small town Illinois.

Buy links:







“Hello Reuben.” I stand immobilized in the doorframe as I watch him snatch two paper cups from the small wooden table next to him.


He straightens and faces me, looking like he just finished a photo shoot for Levi’s in his classic-cut dark jeans cuffed over beat-up brown oxfords, tanned leather jacket open down the front to reveal the distressed zip-up hoodie beneath and that casual swagger of a man who’s used to getting anything he wants.


He moves toward me with panther-like grace, stretching one of the cups to me. “Medium hazelnut soy latte with two sugars on the side…and a dash of cinnamon, of course.” Looking exceedingly proud of himself, he places two brown sugar packets with a stir stick on top of the plastic lid and winks.


I take the coffee, forcing back a smile. Why does he have to be so charming? “Thank you.”


He walks right past me into the empty yoga studio where a couple of candles are still burning bright from the class that just ended. I watch silently as he goes to examine the Hindu deity statutes lining the windowsill. “How’s your day going, Isla?” He focuses his intense, brown-eyed gaze on me and my nerve endings prickle with awareness.


Turning away to maintain my composure, I glance out at the heavy rainclouds. “I’m trying to keep an optimistic outlook. All things considered.” I sit my latte on the ledge of the window and lift the lid off the cup, emptying the sugar packets inside.


“That’s a good philosophy.” He takes a long, purposeful sip of his own coffee.


A heavy silence fills the air and I watch the motion of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. What a beautiful man. So chiselled and strong yet polished and sophisticated. And his confidence makes my heart race in a deliriously excited way. And don’t get me started about his hands, those fingers that danced rhythmically inside of m—


“Aren’t you going to ask how my day’s going?”


I smirk, shaking my head determinedly. “Nope.”


He laughs. “Well, that’s just bad manners.”


“Not necessarily.”


“What do you mean?”


“I’m fully invested in preserving your mystique.”


“My mystique?” he questions with a hitched brow, his thumbnail rubbing along his dimpled chin.


“Yes, you’re the handsome, enigmatic stranger who seduced me in my moment of vulnerability and gifted me with countless orgasms from which I have yet to recover,” I muse in a playful but regally dignified tone. I take a sip of my latte. “Damn, this is good.” Hot and sweet with just enough foam, the addictive taste of caffeine and the heavenly fragrance of hazelnut. This coffee boy’s got skills. I lift the cup in salute to him.


He laughs again. God, I love the sound. “Y’know, I wouldn’t be such an enigma if you’d just go on a damn date with me.”


I shake my head, lust burning a path up my chest. “I’m sorry, Reuben. I just…can’t.”


His face steels with determination. He’s not about to give up just yet. “You said it yourself; I’m handsome as fuck and the sex blew your mind. Plus, I make your froufrou coffee just the way you like it,” he says smugly, “So what’s the problem?”


My attraction to him definitely isn’t the problem. He’s gorgeous. Plus, he’s funny and being around him just generally makes me feel good on the inside. But now isn’t a great time for me to be jumping into a new relationship.


I brush tendrils of hair out of my face, exhaling roughly. “My divorce is messy. And my business is in trouble,” I admit. “I really just need to focus on fixing everything that’s broken in my life.”


He seems to interpret that as a challenge. His shoulders straighten and arrogance lights up his eyes. “Maybe I can help you, Isla.” Then he lowers his voice. “…I want to be friends…with benefits that aren’t purely sexual.”


My blood heats in my veins. “What does that mean?”


“I want to fuck you some more,” he says easily, “but I also enjoy your company. I want more of that, too.”





Chapter 1


I tap the blunt heel of my snow-crusted boot anxiously against the cracked concrete floor and stare blankly at the chalkboard menu looming above the cash register even though I already know what I’m going to order. Soy hazelnut latte with two packets of cane sugar on the side. It’s the same thing I’ve ordered every morning, Monday through Saturday since I opened up my yoga studio next door two and a half years ago.

Still, my eyes linger absentmindedly on the chalkboard a while longer because I need something to fill my mind as I stand in the extremely slow-moving line. This trendy little health food cafe is a bit out of place in a small town like Reyfield. Most of the locals would rather load up on greasy bacon, syrup-drenched pancakes and butter-soaked toast at the old-fashioned diner just off of Centennial. But I try to be conscientious about what I eat. Even when I have no control over the anxiety pulsing through my mind, at least I can decide what goes into my body.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and glance around the place. It’s a really cute little hole-in-the-wall with its charming, rustic design and jazzy tunes playing quietly in the background. Rumor has it that a group of investors from the city purchased it a few weeks ago and that they’ll begin upgrading it soon. I really hope they don’t change too much because it’s so hard to find a cozy eatery with healthy options around here.

I crane my neck around the woman in front of me for a peek at the cash register. There are only two people ahead of me this morning. I don’t understand why it’s taking so long, and I chuff impatiently.

Deep breaths, Isla. Slow, deep breaths.

I’m not usually this irritable. But jeez, I always get so wound up whenever I come from my lawyer’s office. The man has a talent for taking bad news and showing me that it’s exponentially worse than I initially realized. Every time I go to see him, I leave his office an hour older, $250 poorer and 1000 miles further away from my happy place.

I make eye contact with Tina, the regular cashier. She gives me a quick apologetic smile and discreetly gestures toward the fumbling new employee hunched over the espresso machine. Great, just my luck! She’s training a new worker on the one morning that I’m pissed off and running late.

I glance up at the clock on the exposed brick wall. It’s 8:41. My Wednesday morning hatha class starts in nineteen minutes. The line is moving at a snail’s pace but I quickly decide that I need my daily dose of caffeine more than I need to be at work on time. Depriving myself of coffee would be cruel and unusual punishment, especially on a shitty morning like this. I pull in a lungful of purifying air, muttering a calming affirmation under my breath.

All is well in my world. I give no power to the problems I perceive in my experience.

God—right now that affirmation sounds like a load of crap.

As the owner of Prasanna Light Oneness Studio (and Reyfield’s unofficial beacon of positivity), I take my self-imposed commitment to remaining Zen and optimistic very seriously. I do my best to practice what I preach. But on mornings like this, when my lawyer has just explained to me that yesterday Judge Tucker rendered a decision ordering me to pay alimony to my ex, I’m struggling with my Zen. I thought I had put that cheating asshole behind me, but now it looks like I’ll be paying for the mistake of marrying him for the foreseeable future.

The groan of the front door as it swings open snaps me back to the present. Nancy and Delores, Reyfield’s very own Golden Girls duo, amble inside, bickering all the way.

“Good morning, Isla,” Delores says with a cheeky grin. Nancy lingers behind her, a frown etched on her deep brown face.

“Good morning, ladies,” I say cheerily, pushing down my worries and forcing my trademark happy-go-lucky smile to my lips. I turn my focus to Nancy. “What’s got you so upset today?”

She huffs, adjusting the wool scarf around her neck with elegant fingers. “Delores is an absolute whore,” she accuses shooting her friend a glare. “That’s what the problem is.”

My eyes bulge in shock. These two are so damn unpredictable. You never know what will spill past their lips. “Wh-what’s that all about?” I sputter, trying not to laugh outright.

Delores leans on her walking stick and rolls her eyes behind her thick-rimmed glasses. “Nancy, you’re way too old to be such a prude,” she admonishes before turning her gaze to me. “Edward Nickels has been courting her for nearly three weeks and they still haven’t done the dirty.”

Here we go…Conversations with these two tend to go off the rails quick-fast.

“I don’t see what the rush is,” Nancy says, standing her ground, her frown deepening ever so slightly.

Delores clucks her tongue against her dentures so hard that they almost fall out. “You don’t see what the rush is? You old coots could both drop dead next week. That’s what the rush is; you’re old.”

“I’m not going to ‘put out’ just for the heck of it,” Nancy sighs. “I may not be too old to have relations but I am too old to get my heart broken.”

My lips twist into a grimace. “Sorry, D. I’ve gotta side with Nancy on this one. Getting your heart broken is definitely not something worth repeating over and over.”

On hearing my melancholy tone, Delores turns and observes me with her sharp, shrewd gaze. “What has you so ruffled this morning? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so frowny before, dear.”

I force a smile as best I can. “Just feeling a little…” I search from the most accurate descriptor. “…off-center this morning. That’s all.”

She tips her head thoughtfully. “Hmm, when was the last time you did the dirty?”

“Delores!” Nancy scolds, eyes wide in horror. Did she really just ask me that?

She holds up a hand in surrender. “Okay, I won’t pry. But, as my Nana Jean used to say, ‘a little morning wood makes the morning good!’ Wise woman, she was.” She crosses herself and bows her head solemnly. “May she rest in peace.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, shooing Delores away. “Never mind her, dear.” She purses her lips momentarily. “Mmm. I heard that Judge Tucker just ordered you to pay alimony to that no-good ex-husband of yours.” I cringe on the inside. It looks like the news has already begun to make its way around town.

An indignant scowl comes over Delores’ features. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I turn back toward the chalkboard so that they don’t see the pain in my eyes. “How is it that the two of you are always up to date on local gossip?” I tuck that stubborn piece of my red hair behind my ear again. Every girl has that rebellious lock of hair that just refuses to stay in her ponytail.

Nancy shrugs a narrow shoulder. “Court judgments are a matter of public record, dear. My granddaughter, Nadia, is a big shot lawyer at a law firm in New York City. She told me that.”

“Anyway, that’s just terrible,” Delores huffs, smacking her cane against the floor. “You never should have married that boy.”

I know that now.

“My lawyer is looking into it.” I swallow a deep, centering breath. “I’m just hoping there’s a way to get the judgment overturned.”

“Oh, that no-good piece of shit,” Delores grumbles referring to my ex-husband. “I hope his cheating ass gets chlamydia and his penis shrivels off.”

That makes me laugh. “I don’t need revenge. I leave it all to a higher power. I trust the universe to take care of justice. That’s not my job.”

Even as I repeat the well-practiced words that I’ve said so often over the past few months, I’m not quite convinced how much I really mean them. I always make a conscious effort to see the world in a positive way, to see the best in people. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. It’s an important part of my yoga practice. But I’m human, and this morning in the shower, I may or may not have allowed myself to indulge in a fantasy about pushing Zayn in front of a speeding diesel truck and throwing a lit match at him, only to watch him blow up with Oscar-worthy cinematics.

Nancy reaches out and taps me on the hand.

“Oh darling, you’ll certainly have the last laugh.” Her voice is comforting and though I don’t like to revel in the notion of revenge, I welcome the idea that life will stop sucking sooner or later.


The hairs on the back of my neck bristle at the deep baritone pronouncing the word. In my peripheral vision, I see the woman who was ahead of me trudging toward the door with her green smoothie and small, white paper bag in hand.

I step forward and look up to find the most stunning pair of honey-brown eyes waiting patiently for me from under the bill of a black Herbivore Eatery cap. I gasp hard enough to pull in half the air in the room.

God, he’s breathtaking.

And it’s not just his eyes. It’s the chiseled structure of his face, the fullness of his lips, the very pronounced dimple nestled on his smooth-shaven chin.

“Good morning.” His deep voice rings out again.

Taken aback by the sudden assault of shimmering, white teeth as his lips split in a heart-stoppingly handsome (but somewhat controlled) smile, I stutter. “G-good morning…”

His gaze surveys every inch of my face before slipping down over the front of my slim-fitting jacket and settling on my chest for an instant. By the time his eyes return to my face, my cheeks are burning at his blatant scrutiny.

Satisfaction twinkles in his eyes. If I’m honest, I think he likes what he sees.

High five, Isla!

“Welcome to Herbivore Café. What can I get you?” His tongue darts out and glides over his full lips in a leisurely sweep.

My mind goes blank as I follow the path of his tongue. “Uh…I, uh…” I continue to fumble as my eyes tip up at the chalkboard in search of a prompt to help jog my memory.

Tina gives me a knowing smile from the other side of the counter. “She’ll have a medium soy hazelnut latte.”

I smile thankfully at her. “With two brown sugars on the side, please.” But, I’ve got to downsize because with the current state of my finances, every penny counts. “Actually, can you make that a small?”

All the top debt repair gurus would agree that I should sacrifice my morning latte in order to fix my financial problems, but to me, caffeine isn’t a luxury. It’s a basic human right, one I won’t be deprived of.

If getting my daily coffee fix is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

“Small soy hazelnut latte with two brown sugars on the side,” the new barista calls over his shoulder to Tina. His eyes stay on me, intimately examining me all over again.

And on second thought, ‘stunning’ is too mild an adjective to describe those eyes. They’re dazzling, magnetic, powerful. They’re sharp with intelligence while maintaining a playful twinkle that forces my lips to curl into an undefeatable smile. And he’s intense. Definitely a creature who lives in his third chakra, his solar plexus.

Tina shakes her head wearing an apologetic look as if she’s just remembered something important. “Oh, I’m sorry, hun. We just switched up our menu,” she says pointing up at the chalkboard. “We don’t serve hazelnut drinks anymore.”

My spirits sink to my toes. “Really?” The disappointment is clear in my voice.

“Not enough demand for it. You’re practically the only person who orders it.” She shrugs helplessly.

But her new coworker speaks up in that deep, smooth cadence of his. “No, Tina. We’ll make an exception for our friend—” He pauses and looks at me.

It takes a beat to realize that he’s waiting for my name. “Isla,” I supply in a thick voice, eyes locked on his tempting mouth.

“Isla.” His lips part and he breathes my name reverently, like it’s a sacred thing.

Tina’s voice breaks my trance. “But it’s off the menu,” she protests. “I programmed it out of the cash register—”

He speaks firm and steady without breaking my gaze. “Tina, we’ll make an exception for Isla,” he declares sternly.

By now, my heart is flitting like crazy and I feel warm to my bones. The new guy’s bossy. For some reason, I like that.

“Fine,” she says begrudgingly as she marches into the back room and returns a second later with a bottle of hazelnut syrup. He tosses me a wink before he and Tina turn to the back counter where the espresso machine sits next to a bunch of blenders and dispensers and other coffee-making contraptions. She stands by, arms folded tightly across her chest as she instructs her co-worker on how to prepare my beverage.

As he works, I watch his muscular back ripple and undulate under the thin, white jersey of his T-shirt. He’s confident in a natural, easy way. His body speaks that language fluently. And though he’s wearing a coffee shop uniform, he makes it look important, dignified even, with those thick shoulders and sinewy forearms.

I search through my purse for my wallet to pay for the drink and count out my money. The sexy barista turns back to me with a small paper cup of caffeine goodness. That’s when I notice his hands. They’re big and tanned, with a light sprinkling of dark hair. An image of myself licking coffee foam off each of those fingers in turn while looking into those honey eyes flashes through my mind. I shake my head to clear the inappropriate visual.

I smile, trying not to look too affected by him. “Can I have a dash of cinnamon, please?”

“Of course you can.” He licks his lips, leaning over the counter and sliding that wayward lock of red hair over my shoulder. His voice drops to a growl that only he and I can hear. “Now, the question is, can I get a dash of cinnamon?”


A tickle skitters down my spine. I open and close my mouth but nothing comes out. He flashes a quick, subtle smile before he grabs the cinnamon shaker and adds a light dusting to my drink. Steam billows from the tiny hole in the plastic lid that he snaps onto the cup. “You’re…delightful, Isla,” he says almost to himself.

I’m still frazzled as I take the coffee and stretch the money out to him. He reaches across the counter and taps my hand to stop me. “I can’t charge you for something that isn’t even on the menu, Isla.”

God, my name just rolls off his tongue. Say it again…

I narrow my eyes at him. “You can’t do that. I have to pay. You have to charge me,” I insist. My eyes shoot over to Tina but she gives me an impassive shrug.

He follows the path of my stare. “Yes, I can do that,” he smirks. “Right, Tina?”

She nods uninterestedly. “Yup, he can do that, I guess,” she says in a listless tone.

What the hell is going on here today? The last time I was a dime short, Tina made me swear that I’d give her the money the next day. And now, here she is, practically letting the new guy steal right in front of her.

“I’m not walking out of here with a free drink,” I say, sliding a handful of carefully counted change across the counter.

“Well, I’m not taking your money,” he shoots, folding a pair of bulging arms across his wide chest, “and I’ll be here all day so you might as well get comfortable if you’re gonna stay.” He nods over at the grouping of shabby chic, overstuffed sofas facing the window.

He’s annoying. Truly.

So, why do I find myself smiling?

“Take the damn coffee,” Delores says impatiently tapping her stick on the floor. “Just let somebody do something nice for you for once.” She eyes the barista. “This girl is Reyfield’s resident Ms. Altruistic. Always taking care of everybody but she won’t let anybody do anything nice for her.” Nancy nods along.

Mr. Bossy evaluates me again, hitching an eyebrow this time. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” Nancy says, “She volunteered to go grocery shopping for me when my arthritis was acting up a few weeks ago even though that dinky station wagon of hers can barely keep up with this cold weather.”

“She came to my house with some weird, hippy essential oil concoction when I had pneumonia last winter,” Delores adds. “It worked wonders.”

A grin threatens to spill onto Mr. Bossy’s face as he opens the bakery display case and grabs a pair of metal tongs. “Well, in that case, I’m going to have to throw in a giant coconut cookie.” He slides the crumbly sweetness into a small, white paper bag and hands it my way.

“You really don’t have to do this.” I hesitate to take it from him.

“A sweet treat for a sweet girl,” he says in an easy voice.

I feel a blush coloring my cheeks and my heart is picking up speed. “If you gave treats to all the sweet girls in this town, you’d be out of business before sundown.”

I’m subject to that honey-brown stare again. “I doubt that the others are sweet like you.” He licks his lips. “Lightning rarely strikes the same small town twice.”


This guy…He knows very well the type of effect he has on a woman and he’s not above using it to get what he wants. He exudes the confident magnetism usually possessed by charming politicians, hot-shot lawyers or powerful CEOs. And here he is, manning the espresso machine at a small-town coffee shop.

That’s when realization hits me. He’s not just some barista. He must be a student working here as a part-time gig while he pursues his studies at the local community college. He’s probably studying Business Administration. Or Economics. Something brainy like that.

While I stand there silently writing the unofficial biography of the gorgeous and domineering man I literally just met, my phone begins to ring in the pocket of my jacket and reality slams back into me. Here I am flirting with some college boy at a coffee shop when my whole life is falling apart around me.

Way to prioritize, Isla.

I glance down at my phone and see my best friend, Sammie’s, number. Excitement flutters in my stomach. This call could change things for the better. She told me yesterday that she could potentially help me get an investment for my yoga studio.

I scoop my money off of the counter. “I’ve got to take this,” I say, waving the phone in the air.

Mr. Bossy nods as I take my coffee and cookie, pivoting toward the door. “Have a nice day, Isla.“

I can’t help but smile as I drop my fistful of coins into Tina’s tip jar. I hear him call after me but I wave quickly at Nancy and Delores and hurry out the door.







Cassie-Ann L. Miller writes steamy contemporary romance with a dash of angst and a sprinkle of humor. And if her toddler weren’t rebelling against his bedtime right now, she’d have a minute to write her author biography, too 😉

Social media

Facebook page:

Facebook group:







Find out what happens next. Pre-order your copy of “Dirty Stranger (The Dirty Suburbs Book 3):







Hawk’s Promise by Nola Cross

Buy on Amazon only 99 Pennies!


When an old friendship promises to become so much more.

Desiree Taylor was just ten years old when Hawk Ironcloud joined the army. The young man she had come to think of as her big brother disappeared from her life, but she’ll never forget him. No man she met afterward could ever measure up to Hawk. More than a decade later a sudden family tragedy reunites the two of them. Now an adult, Desi finds herself plagued by a whole new set of powerful and confusing emotions.

Hawk has learned from hard experience that he’s just no good at relationships. When Desi comes back into his life he struggles to deny his feelings for her. When that doesn’t work he pushes her away—for her own good. But circumstances throw them together again, and this time there’s no turning away from the smoldering attraction that flares up between them.

Now Hawk and Desi must decide whether they are stuck in the role of brother and sister or old friends, or can they become something much more?


***Content Warning:  contains adult language and sensual sex scenes

Genre(s): Contemporary Romance / Interracial Romance / New Adult


It was hard to believe she was really there. That the man who sat across from her was not, after all, some figment of her ten-year-old imagination. As she ate her meat and thick-cut fries, she studied him from under lowered lashes. He looked much as she remembered, but heavier, more filled out. His skin was not as tanned as it used to be, maybe because he now spent more time indoors, but the Native American genes from his mother’s side were plain in his black eyes, thick brows, and high cheekbones. He wore his hair long now, neatly banded in a ponytail that reached halfway down his back. She couldn’t remember which tribe his mother had been affiliated with. Maybe someday she would ask him. For now, she found herself feeling shy.

“I was sorry to hear about your mom. Dovie told me she read the obituary in the paper. I would have sent you a card if I’d had your address.”

A momentary wince of pain flashed across his face and then was gone. “Thanks,” he said, cutting another bite of meat.

“I remember her as being such a nice person.”

He nodded, his lips twisting in a wry smile. “Yeah, she was way too nice for…”

At his abrupt silence she dropped her gaze and nodded. “For my dad. I know. You can go ahead and say it.”

Instead he poked the bite of steak into his mouth.

“She used to tell the best stories. Remember the coyote tales? I loved those.”

“Yeah. Good times.” He scowled. After a moment he wiped his mouth on his napkin and leaned back in the booth.

“So. Desi. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I can be a support for you right now. But I gotta know. How did you find me?”

Desi reached down and opened her handbag and took out a stack of envelopes. She set them on the table between their two plates.

“I found these this morning in Dovie’s bottom dresser drawer.”

“Ah.” His gaze rested on the envelopes as if they were a pile of venomous snakes. “So she kept my letters.”


Meet Nola Cross…

Nola began writing before she even started school and won her first writing contest at the age of nine. It’s always been her dream to be an author. She’s a two-time Golden Heart finalist and several of herstories have been Amazon best sellers. For awhile she penned erotic fiction under a pseudonym. Although it was fun to explore her “darker side”, she is now answering the true call of her heart:

To write bigger stories that focus on emotion, loss, spirit, and true love, stories she hopes her readers will relate to and want to read more than once. Small town America is her favorite fictional setting.

She lives in a funky, comfortable fixer-upper on three wooded acres in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, in southwest Washington state. With her husband and youngest son she runs a family business in a small town nearby, a town very similar to the ones she writes about. At home, three fine cats and a collie dog act as her muses. And four years ago the family welcomed their first grandchild, darling Ona Mae.

Nola loves to connect with readers and other authors. 

Connect with Nola…




COVER REVEAL: Twisted Luck by Mia Downing

Title: Twisted Luck
Author: Mia Downing
Word Count: 102,000 words/400 pages
Release Date: 4/7/17
ISBN: 9781386286479
Genre: Paranormal contemporary romance bordering on erotic, m/f
Other: Possible first book of series (no cliffhanger, HEA for couple)

Pre-order Links:
iTunes: coming soon



When I told him to go to hell, I never realized it would be a trip for two.

All I wanted was luck—the good kind. I’d lost my job, a jerk hacked my bank account, and I caught my best friend screwing my fiancé. When stood up by my Internet date in a bar, I met the perfect man—tall, dark, and handsome in the most expensive suit. He was out of my league, but I didn’t want forever.

I barely remember the words he whispered under the veil of sin and seduction. I didn’t believe in Satan, God, Heaven or Hell. I thought he was kidding. A figment. A dream.

I was wrong. With one, breathless yes, my fate was sealed.

Businessman by day, demon by night, Leo Weston now owns my soul in exchange for good luck. Time is ticking as he works to secure my mother’s soul, too. Somehow, I have to take him down despite him being so damned gorgeous, glib, and devious. Will my gift of twisted luck be enough to save her and protect my heart?

PREORDER BLITZ: We Are the Stars by Teagan Hunter

The first time I saw Carsen Wheatley, I flipped him off.
The second time, I kneed him in the balls.
The third? I kissed him.

Why? Because Carsen needed it.

Angry and full of hate, Carsen is a lost soul, searching. Since the death of his mother, he’s cold and isolated, needing someone to fill the gap she left wide open, someone to kiss the anger from his soul.

That’s where I come in.

I’m restless, on the search for a new adventure, something to make me feel…well, anything. I’m certain I’ll find a permanent fix soon, but in the meantime, I have this summer job and Carsen to keep me going.

But the summer is only temporary, and so is the fix.

We are imperfect.
We are mismatched.
We are the stars.

Up for preorder for just $0.99 now and will go up to its regular pricing of $2.99 on 2/20.

Amazon US ➜
Amazon UK ➜
Amazon AU ➜
Amazon CA ➜
iBooks ➜
B&N ➜
Kobo ➜






COVER REVEAL: Dirty Stranger by Cassie-Ann L. Miller



Book: Dirty Stranger (The Dirty Suburbs Book 3)

Author: Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Release date: February 22nd, 2017



I’m paying alimony to my idiot ex-husband, my business hardly makes enough to keep the lights on and I’m literally holding my car together with duct tape.

Scratch that, I’m holding my life together with duct tape.

So I won’t go on a date with the mysterious, new-in-town barista who makes my morning soy hazelnut latte just the way I like it.

He’d better stop trying to hypnotize me with those honey eyes and those bulging shoulders that stretch the jersey of his coffee shop uniform, because I have enough on my plate and the last thing I need is yet another liability.


The cinnamon-haired yoga chick who orders the soy hazelnut latte every morning won’t give me a shot. She thinks I’m just some college boy with student loans trying to get in her pants.

Assumptions, assumptions, assumptions…

Well, she’s right about one thing. From the moment she first sauntered into this coffee shop with her long legs and her sad eyes, I’ve wanted to toss her onto the polished wooden counter and show her just how much of a man I am. There’s so much more to me than meets the eye.

I’m just trying to make her fall for me before my secrets make it to town.

“Dirty Stranger” is book three in the “Dirty Suburbs”, a series of full-length, stand-alone romantic comedies about the residents of small town Illinois.

Buy links:
Cassie-Ann L. Miller writes steamy contemporary romance with a dash of angst and a sprinkle of humor. And if her toddler weren’t rebelling against his bedtime right now, she’d have a minute to write her author biography, too 😉

Social media
Facebook page:
Facebook group:

Release Blitz: Cruel and Unusual by c.e. wilson


Malcolm Davenport is serving time.

On a remote island in Alaska, Malcolm is part of Project Isolation, where he must reflect on the crime that cost him the only thing he ever loved. He spends his days and nights alone, with his thoughts and his art—drawing the woman he lost.


But his isolation comes to a strange and abrupt halt when a miniature winged woman with pink hair and striking blue eyes comes literally crashing through his cell and his life.


Is Verity Nine a fairy? A sophisticated spy drone? She’s says she’s a human, and she just might be the answer to the pardon he’s so desperately wanted. But at what cost? The closer Malcolm gets to Verity, the less he sees a fantastical creature or a robot—what he sees is a woman for whom he might be willing to sacrifice it all.

Buy links:




C.E. Wilson is a Secondary English Education graduate from Millersville University of Pennsylvania currently living in Pittsburgh with her husband, daughter, chubby beagle and two cats.

C.E. published her first book in 2012 entitled Oath of Servitude and hasn’t looked back since. She now has over ten books published and plans to release two more by the end of 2016. Her favorite genres to tackle are Young and Clean New Adult with a supernatural element…though she generally steers clear of vampires and werewolves.For now.

When C.E. isn’t writing or spending time with her family, she enjoys watching Supernatural, reading shoujo manga and shopping for leggings. She enjoys autumn, all things pumpkin, 90s music, and coffee with way too much cream.

Connect with C.E. Wilson at:

My Amazon Page –

My Bookbub Page –

Hosted By


Visit Us Here!


BOOK BLITZ: 14 Shades of F*cked Up; An Anthology

Title: Fourteen Shades of F*cked Up: An Anthology
Genre: Dark Romance/ Erotica

Roses are red. So is passion. And blood.

Fourteen authors have brought you stories of pain and love.
Struggle and dissonance.
Lust and depravity.

Whether your poison is a naughty husband and wife, a kinky night out on the town, edging toward the pinnacle of pain and pleasure, or something a little more supernatural, come indulge in your deepest, darkest, most f*cked up cravings.

We promise we won’t judge…if you won’t.

Note: This anthology contains content that is not appropriate for readers under the age of 18.

Order Link

Here’s a mini blurb from all 14 stories:
A rich lawyer gives his beloved wife the punishment of a lifetime after finding divorce papers in the mail.

An assassin’s life is never easy–and neither is leaving the one you love in order to save them.

EXCITABLE by Brittney Coon
When a dominant is sold as a submissive to another dominant, a dramatic power struggle ensues.

CONSENSUAL by Cristina Slough
A couple tries to resuscitate their broken marriage by going to their first swingers party.

Sex addict Aiden knows his attraction to fellow addict Keira is dangerous–but then, so is he.

When the demons come out to play and stake their claim, there are always fatal flaws.

For one young man, the nightmare scenario of abduction and torture becomes the key to unlocking his ultimate fantasy.

WICKED GAMES by Lilly James
Lyle and Ivy live for their toxic relationship, but all wicked games eventually come to an end.

AFFLICTION by Marie Skye
A prominent doctor enjoys inflicting pain on his enemies, until he begins to question his original intent.

STORY OF US by ML Rodriguez
He is the first to introduce her to carnal pleasures she never dreamed of, but will he be the last?

Dysfunctional: an adjective that embodies Jezabelle’s entire childhood and everything she strives to avoid, until a smooth-talking biker ruins all of her plans.

MISS X by Quinn
She calls herself a “professional mistress”–no love, no commitment, no future, until she meets a strangely familiar man who shows her how to feel again.

KILLER DOM by S. Valentine
Sometimes lust can carry you down surprising and dangerous paths…

A terminally ill billionaire uses an experimental procedure to feel endless ecstasy, but all he really wants is one last moment with his true love.



 Tough (A Hidden Hearts Novel #5)

Savannah Lyons has her secrets —she buried them in the past long ago and she’d like to leave them there. She never talks about her past with anyone — especially wickedly handsome restaurant owners like the guy next door.
Casey Moore has met women with moves and instincts like hers before but not since he was a teenage runaway. He lost his best friend to the streets and for once, he hopes his razor-sharp intuition is dead wrong because there’s just something about Savannah that turns him from a tough guy to a tender heart.

Buy here:

                   ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Mary Crawford has been lucky enough to live her own version of a romance
novel. She married the guy who kissed her at summer camp. He told her on the
night they met that he was going to marry her and be the father of their children.
Eventually she stopped giggling when he said it, and they just celebrated their
28th wedding anniversary. They have two children. The oldestis in medical
school,  where he recently found and married the love of his life,
and the youngest has started middle school.
Ms. Crawford writes full time now. She has written and published over adozen
books and has several more underway. She volunteers her time to avariety of
causes and has worked as a Civil Rights Attorney and diversity advocate.
Ms.Crawford spent many years working for various social service agencies before
becoming an attorney.
In her spare time, she loved to cook, decorate cakes and
of course, obsessively, compulsively read.
Cover Design: Mary Crawford
Author Photo: Shaded Tree Photography
All other photographs courtesy of


Hosted By


Visit Us Here!