-Knocked up By Stacey Lynn-

-Knocked Up by Stacey Lynn-
Publication Date: June 12th, 2018
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Knocked Up Cover_resize

First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes baby in a baby carriage. Just not necessarily in that order….

Braxton: I should probably be dead or in jail right now. Instead, thanks to some tough love, I worked my ass off and now I own a string of tattoo parlors throughout the Pacific Northwest. And yet the one thing I’ve always wanted—a family—still seems out of reach. When my best friend gets married, I’m just hoping to blow off some steam with the super-hot maid of honor. But after Cara Thompson tracks me down to tell me she’s pregnant, she’s more surprised than I am when I tell her I’m all in.

Cara: For the first time in my life, I’m living for myself—not for my parents and their ridiculous expectations. I gave up on my MBA, dropped out of the Ivy League, and moved to Portland to pursue my dream of becoming an artist. And what’s the first thing I do? Get knocked up. For a tatted-up sex god, Braxton Henley seems way too eager to “be there for me.” Is this guy serious? Maybe. He sure is patient. Because he won’t back down until I admit what I know in my heart: that our one night stand might’ve led me to the one.

-Read Today-

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2t74AB0

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2rR7j0S

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-Featured Book: A Map for Wrecked Girls-


Genre: YA Contemporary, Survival

“A masterfully written tale of survival, sisters, and love.” —Julie Murphy, author of the #1 New York Times bestseller Dumplin’

What’s It All About? 

Emma did something terrible to her sister. Something that cannot be undone.

Emma and Henri were supposed to grow old together. They were sisters and best friends. Emma always imagined them as little old ladies living together in a huge house by the sea.

But that was before—before the boat accident, before Emma and Henri washed ashore, before they got mixed up with Alex, a boy they barely know. The island is beautiful, but there is no fresh water, no food, no shelter. All they have are each other. And their secrets.

As nights on the island turn into days, Emma hopes the need to survive, the desperation for comfort, will drive Henri back to her. Instead they’re farther apart than ever. And Emma finds herself drifting closer to Alex—Alex, who can’t understand why Henri is so terrible to Emma. But then, he doesn’t know Emma’s secret.

Will Henri ever forgive Emma? Can they survive the island? Can they reclaim what they’ve lost? There is no map for this.

A twisting tale of loyalty, betrayal, and hope—for fans of Pretty Little Liars, Gone Girl, and One of Us is Lying.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2y426sU

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-Blog Tour & Excerpt: The House by Jo Michaels-

Genre: Psychological Thriller
What’s It All About?
This house is cursed, and everyone who lives there is in grave danger.
Ever wonder what stories you’d hear if walls could talk?
What if those walls witnessed unimaginable horrors?
Inside these pages is the story of one such house. What it sees, the people it meets, and what happens when a terrified spirit is invited to stay.
Story 1 – The Butcher
Story 2 – Marna, Fred, and Kimberly McDade
Story 3 – Lacy Mae Ritter
Story 4 – Mark and Olivia Cullpepper
Story 5 – The Writer
The House is a collection of short stories that ties in with the Pen Pals and Serial Killers series by Jo Michaels. You’ll find a couple of those characters named, and discover how one grew the teeth he used on the women he captured later.
Spoiler alert! You need to read Intensification (Pen Pals and Serial Killers, #3) before you read The House.
-Buy Links-
Intensification: https://amzn.to/2HTpMk4
Story 1 – The Butcher
My yellow paint; pretty, white shutters; and pristine porch were sullied by the first man who dwelt here. I call him The Butcher, but his name was Butch Campion, and he was thirty-seven. His face is one I’ll never forget, and the atrocities he committed are things I still shudder to think about. We met one month after I was born. He walked in, so proud and full of himself, his feet sending vibrations through my floorboards as he tromped through, checking every room like he was planning to bring a whole family in and bring them up. I thought we’d get along famously and was looking forward to warming the feet of small children as they played.
Once the papers were signed, and I was his property, things went well for a month or so. He’d go to work, come home, sit on the threadbare couch, and drink beer. To my chagrin, he didn’t seem to have a wife or children, so there was nothing for me to do during the day except sit here.
It was after that first month that I started to figure he might not be my ideal owner after all. My lawn was never cared for, and the ivy growing nearby was allowed to spring up, threatening to take over the cute porch the builders thought to add. Butch would go out and bring home booze of some kind, cigarettes, and fast food. He never cooked, and he left wrappers and empty boxes all over the place, making me smell like a trash can. Roaches scuttled in, intent on a good meal, and he’d squish the ones he saw, leaving their carcasses to decompose where they met their gruesome end.

 Read an Excerpt of Story 2 From The House on 

*PAGE 2*

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-Excerpt & Blog Tour: There Goes Sunday School By Alexander C. Eberhart-

there-goes-sunday-schoolAuthor: Alexander C. Eberhart

Genre: YA LGBT – Coming of Age

What’s It All About? 

In sixteen-year-old Mike Hernandez’s life, only one thing is clear: Gay is NOT okay. His family’s life revolves around the church, a church run by the vocally intolerant Pastor Myers, so Mike has resolved to spend his life in the closet. His only escape—besides the occasional, anonymous gay make-out session—is his art. He pours his complicated emotions into risqué drawings he keeps in a secret sketchbook. A sketchbook he carries everywhere. 

 When his sketchbook goes missing in the middle of Sunday school, Mike is sure his life is over. He’s going to be outed, ostracized by their community, condemned by the pastor, maybe even homeless. What’s worse, the pastor’s son, Chris, suddenly seems hell-bent on adopting Mike and his friends and he has no idea why.
When an awkward confrontation with Chris leads to an unexpected kiss instead of a much-expected punch, Mike’s world is turned upside down. As their friendship grows and faith is questioned, Mike may be forced to choose between the comfortable life he’s always lived and a chance at the love he never thought he deserved.






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-Freebie Book Blitz & Excerpt: Broken World by Kate. L Mary-

Genre: Post-Apocalyptic
What’s It All About?
Follow a group of survivors on a journey that spans eleven books and twenty years as they search for safety in a world overrun by the dead…
When a deadly virus sweeps the country, Vivian sets out for California in hopes of seeing the daughter she gave up for adoption. Then her car breaks down and she’s faced with a choice: give up or accept a ride from redneck brothers, Angus and Axl. Vivian knows getting in the car with strangers is a risk, but with time running out, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to reach her daughter.
The virus is spreading, and by the time the group makes it to California, most of the population has already been wiped out. When the dead start coming back, Vivian and the others realize that no electricity or running water are the least of their concerns. Now Vivian must learn how to be a mom under the most frightening circumstances, cope with Angus’s aggressive mood swings, and sort out her growing attraction to his brooding younger brother, Axl.
While searching for a safe place to go, the group meets a pompous billionaire who may be the answer to all their problems. Trusting him means going into the middle of the Mojave Desert and possibly risking their lives, but with the streets overrun and nowhere else to turn, he might be their only chance for survival…
Shattered World: https://amzn.to/2Jm14No

Movement catches my eye. My heart goes into double time when my head jerks up. There’s a man across the street, walking slowly up the hill. He has his head bowed and he stares at the ground.
“A man,” I say, pointing at him.
Axl looks over and we both stand quietly for a few seconds, just watching him. He’s alone and unarmed, but my heart still pounds. We should just walk away. Leave him alone.
Axl cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey!”
The man stops and lifts his head, but he doesn’t look around. He just stands there. I hold my breath while we wait for him to respond, to acknowledge us in some way. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything. After a few seconds he starts walking again. The same sluggish pace as before: his head down, his arms slack and swinging at his sides. It’s creepy.
“Guess he don’t want company,” Axl says.
I nod, but something inside me tightens. It makes me think of that man we saw in the field a few days ago. He was walking the same way. Aimless. Defeated. There’s something unnerving about it.
My scalp tingles and the sensation of being watched sweeps over me. “Let’s get back inside.”
We walk into the lobby and both freeze in our tracks at the sight of a woman standing there. She’s wearing a uniform—looks like housekeeping—and stands perfectly still, staring at the ground. She slowly raises her head and I suck in a deep breath. She’s sick. Her face is pale and gray, her skin droops and her eyes are cloudy. She looks awful. Death can’t be too far away.
“Son of a bitch,” Axl mutters, pulling his gun out. His body goes rigid and his hands even shake a little.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s the maid.”
What does he mean? She’s wearing a uniform; it’s obvious she’s a maid. “What?”
“The maid we took the key from,” he says, stepping back. “She was dead.”
I laugh a little, but it comes out strained and nervous. I can’t process what he’s saying. She’s clearly alive. She’s standing in front of us, staring at us.
“You’re wrong,” I say.
“I ain’t wrong,” he growls, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me back.
I shake him off and take a small step forward. “She’s sick.”
“Vivian, get back!”
I move forward again. “Are you okay? Can we help you?”
She doesn’t talk, but she tilts her head to the side and studies me. A chill runs up my spine, but I ignore it. Axl is freaking me out, but he’s crazy. There’s nothing to worry about.

  Follow  Kate on Facebook!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KateLMaryauthor

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-Excerpt & Sales Blitz: Distraction by Angela McPherson-

Genre: NA Contemporary Romance
What’s It All About? 
Aside from the normal changes in her life, college junior Elle Richards can always count on her friendship with Tristan. The longing for him to love her back is something she keeps well hidden, even from herself. No matter how many miles apart they are, regular phone calls and texts keep them close…until the day everything changes.
Wide Receiver Tristan Daniels has a good thing going. Much to his, and every single woman’s surprise, he’s in a committed relationship. The possibility of going pro looks more than promising…until his spur of the moment transfer to a rival college is approved. Now, Tristan will be forced to be in the presence of the woman he’s secretly loved for as long as he can remember. Elle.
Being away from one another was enough to keep Tristan and Elle distracted, but angst, confusion, and troubled secrets launch them into a breathless, heart pumping story you won’t want to miss!
Recommended for mature audiences 18+ New Adult/College Contemporary Romance
Frantically, I searched her face until I reached her wounded eyes, and my insides knotted with uncertainty. I claimed her lips with mine, fitting perfectly together. Her mouth opened, and the salty taste of her tears forced reality into the room. As much as I wanted the kiss to linger, I had to make her understand how much I wanted her, and only her. Reluctantly, I backed away.
“I’ve loved you since we were kids. I wanted it to be me instead of that dick, Mark James, on your first date. I’ve wanted you so fucking bad, but I never told you how I felt because the thought of losing you, even as a friend, terrified me.”
Her green, shock-filled eyes pooled with tears again. I did the only thing I thought would make her believe me. My hand wrapped around the back of her head, fingers weaving through her hair. I inched her closer until I felt her soft lips against mine.
The kiss started in a slow exploration. The moment my tongue met hers, her breath caught and her body shivered. My heart raced like a jackhammer when her fingers spread through my wet hair and the kiss deepened.
Damn she felt good, and tasted even better. Her lips were soft, but eager for more. Her hair felt like smooth silk beneath my hand. I wrapped my other arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against me, only it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.


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-Cocktales: The Cocky Collective- AKA Fighting #Cockygate-

No automatic alt text available.Cocktales, a LIMITED RELEASE anthology of original, never before published material, from some of your favorite bestselling authors is available now!

Each story was specificallywritten for this anthology.
The goal of the Cocktales Anthology is to raise funds to fight against obstruction of creative expression. Specifically, what we believe are obstruction attempts through the trademarking of common (single) words for titicular use in books / or as a book series (eBooks, print, and audio).

To Purchase: (Remember, this is a limited release… so hurry up lol.)

Basically, a bunch of authors came together to write a satire/parody/haha book in order to raise funds to fight #cockygate. Don’t know what Cocky Gate is? Well, you’re in for a treat. Here’s a breakdown on Faleena Hopkins and Cocky Gate: http://wp.me/p8dPp2-13M

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-Books Suggested By Wendy Higgins Fans-

wendy-fansSome of the BEST books I’ve found are through suggestions of other readers with similar tastes. I asked fans of Wendy Higgins what other books they just *love*, and this is what they told me.

I’m seriously dying over this list. I honestly don’t know which one to start with! They all look so good!

-Suggested By Wendy Higgins Fans-

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-Random Writing Tips-


This quote gives me LIFE. I am such a rewriter; my guilt has washed away because of you, Judy Blume.

I’m totally not fact checking this quote, either. If it’s not true, I do not want to know.

Anyways! Writing is hard. Really hard. Dialogue, imagery, plot, typing, staying awake, remembering to eat- hard.

BUT! I saw an author, Emma Hart, post a photo of her desk and there was this book next to her keyboard titled ‘The Emotion Thesaurus“. Immediately bought it. And so glad I did.

Here’s a little tip from inside these magical pages: “When revising, look for instances where emotions are NAMED. Nine times out of ten this indication is a lack of confidence that the emotion is shown clearly through thought, sensations and body language. Strong verbal cues negate the need to “explain” the emotion to the reader.”

So true, Magical Thesaurus. So. True.

Basically, when your characters about to feel something, you go to the table of contents and click on that feeling, then up will pop physical signals, internal sensations and mental responses of that emotion.

Example: I’m feeling TERROR.

Physical Signs: Rasping breaths, bulging eyes, full body tremors.

Internal Sensations: Sound of a heart thrashing in your ears, pain in the chest, increased strength or stamina, clenched jaw.

Mental Responses: A compulsion to look back, risk taking, hyper-vigilance.

I’m not a naturally eloquent writer, so this book has literally saved me. Maybe one day i’ll dish out lines like “a wry grin twisted up at the thought.” But today is not that day.


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-Leaving Your Child To Die-


A mother recalled the phone call from her daughter, a student at Santa Fe High; “Mom, they are shooting up the school. I’m hiding in a closet. I love you, Mom.” 

When the shooter entered the art room, he shouted ‘surprise motherfuckers.’ When he killed someone, he would sing ‘another one bites the dust.’

Her daughter was hiding in the art room closet, only feet away from a monster who managed to get a gun . She was the only one in the closet with a phone, the others had abandoned theirs inside the classroom. As they waited for help, their phones were ringing non-stop, no doubt their parents freaking out and calling them.

The shooter taunted them through the door, “Do you think it’s for you? Do you want to come answer it?”

He asked them if they were dead yet, they said nothing in response. He shot into the closet.

He screamed ‘woo hoo’. Then shot into the closet.

The daughter laid next to her dead friends, covered in their blood, wondering if she was next. Her mother, rushed to the school, terrified by the same thought. Parents were told to avoid the area. No way, right? People abandoned their cars and ran to the school on foot.

She lived.

Later that night, the girl in the art closet received a slew of text messages blaming her for not doing more to save her friends. Let me repeat: Her peers were blaming her.

The news took a different route and blamed another young woman. The headline I read yesterday on MULTIPLE reputable news sites said ‘Young girl provokes shooting.’ Want to know how she somehow made a boy lose his shit and kill people? She turned him down and embarrassed him.  ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?! Victim blaming at its finest. 

My best friend texted me saying there were at least fifty police cars and a SWAT truck flying by her. And there was a life light helicopter and ambulances leaving the direction of the school.

It is too close to home, we thought. Words we knew we would say eventually, but dreaded, and wished like hell it wouldn’t be our town. That’s the thing, it’s not ‘if’  a shooting will happen. It is ‘when’ will the shooting happen.

Every morning I drop my daughter off and think to myself, is this the day she is sent home in a body bag. My brain goes into the darkest places. I used to think I was overly paranoid, now I realize I have a reason to be.

I work from home right next to her school. Every time I hear a police siren, I wonder if it is on the way to her school. I sit their quietly, hoping the siren doesn’t turn off, indicating it has turned into the neighborhood. It’s like after 9/11, whenever we heard planes in the sky, we all froze for a moment- waiting. Waiting for the nightmare to start.

None of us are shocked. We are numb. We are used to it. Columbine rocked our worlds for years. These shootings only rock us for a few months, or until the next massacre occurs.

I got an email from the district saying they put in five cameras outside the high schools after the Orlando shooting. Big fucking whoop. Would that camera have stopped the shooter, a STUDENT, from walking into class? Fuck. No. He was allowed to be there, it was HIS school. The doors were open for HIM.

I told my ten year old daughter, “I wish we had metal detectors.” I sadly had to explain to her what happened , as it is right next to us, and kids will start talking about it.

She asked, “Why don’t we?” I didn’t know the answer to that. I told her maybe because of money, or it would cause long lines to get into school. I wasn’t sure. You know what my ten year old said? “Waiting in line is better than being dead.”

What are we going to do? Because I’m tired of dropping my kid off and wondering if today is the day. I’m tired of looking at every person around the school as a threat. I’m tired of wondering if the victims of shootings felt something different in the air that morning but ignored it. I’m tired of my ten year old having more voice of reason than those who are actually in charge.

I’m pissed that a week ago I was excited for summer because I could turn my alarm off. But now, I am anxious for summer so I don’t have to worry about my child being shot while at school.

I don’t know what the solution to this problem is. It is way above my pay grade. One thing I can say for certainty, there is not ONE answer.

More security at schools? Yes. Bullying prevention? Yes. Stricter Gun Laws (No, I’m not taking about taking your guns away *rolls eyes*) The list goes on and on and fucking on.

One way I am going to help is by once again joining the PTA, and being an active child advocate. The government can’t ignore thousands of pissed off moms who are on the same mission. But, I’d surely like to see them try.

Source: Houston Chronicle

Side Note: My Scottish friend messaged my husband and I to check on us after everything happened, he said “Your country is mad, Madam.” Over there, guns are pretty much nonexistent, and yes their crime rates are much, much, so damn much lower. But I know that isn’t an option for our country, we are too invested in our right to bear arms, and I realize, understand, and accept this. (Not going to lie, I like target shooting with my brothers AK.)

Guns, although obviously a major part of the problem- duh, are not the only problem. Double duh. Our culture has changed, as a friend put it on Facebook. The people behind the guns have changed. That’s a big fucking problem.

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