Emily Snow is The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Devoured series, Tidal, Wrecked, and Uncovered. She loves books, sexy bad boys, and really loud rock music, so naturally, she writes stories about naughty rockers. Visit her on Facebook, on her blog at emilysnowbooks.blogspot.com, or chat with her on Twitter @emilysnowbks for news, teasers, and contests.

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My name is Lizzie Connelly, and I have it all. The gorgeous apartment. The new job most women would rip out their own souls for—working for Margaret Emerson at Emerson & Taylor. I have one of those lives you’ve always dreamt about, the kind you only see on HBO. But, the thing is, that life is a lie. A façade.

It all started with one call. “Everything you know about your story—your father’s story—is a lie. It’s up to you to uncover everything.” One call, and I turned my world upside down to dig my way into Margaret’s life—the woman who I’d never laid eyes on until recently. My stepmother who took everything after my father died fourteen years ago.

The plan was simple—figure out what role she played in my father’s death and expose her to the world.

But here’s another thing: simplicity doesn’t exist, and my plans are flawed from the beginning because I never anticipated Oliver. Sexy, too smart for his own goddamn good, and infuriating, he’s the one person who could blow my plans to uncover Margaret. She’s his mother, and in another life, that would have made him my stepbrother.

I want to pretend that none of that matters, that I can simply finish what I came to do without sparing him a second glance and another thought.

Like I said, though, there’s no such thing as simplicity.

My real name is Gemma Emerson.

And this is my story.

AmazonUS | AmazonUK | AmazonCA | AmazonAU | B&N

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Ever since Lily died two years ago, Evie has been lost. She exists but doesn’t live, and she copes the only way she knows how: by wrecking things.

She exposes her dad’s affairs, ends things with her longtime boyfriend, and just last semester she destroyed her music scholarship. Desperate to break away from all the destruction she’s caused and start over, Evie reinvents herself at her new university.

But then Rhys, her new voice instructor, happens. He’s gorgeous, insanely talented and a part of the dark past she’s trying to overcome. Rhys’s brother is the reason why Evie’s life is such a mess right now, the reason why Lily, Evie’s sister, is dead. Even though Rhys is the last person Evie should ever want, for the first time in two years, wrecking things seems…right.

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Second Verse

The first glance into Emily Snow’s next book…

Release Date TBD

“Your sister is insane,” I said, shooting a glance across the parking lot at Hazel, who returned the gesture with her trademark icy green glare. What the hell was her problem with me? Leaning back on the bench, I tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes to match her expression. “I swear, she makes Cersei look tame.”

Emmett arched his brows and lowered his gaze. I tilted my face up, swallowing hard when our eyes met. “Who the hell is that?” he drawled, a smile teasing the corners of his full lips. “Well don’t just sit there lookin’ all sneaky, Kinsey, who is it?”

I wasn’t looking sneaky. I was looking at him. At the tiny bump on the bridge of his nose. The shadow on his chin from not shaving this morning—he should never shave, ever. At his eyes. Green like his sister’s, but so different they made it hard for me to breathe because his eyes were everything.

I was looking at him and that was just as bad as looking sneaky, because I wanted things with him I couldn’t explain.

Sliding off the bench, I shoved my hands into the back pocket of my cutoffs and looked over my shoulder. I almost expected the bronze face under all that curly brown hair to go up in flames when I caught him staring at my ass, but he simply grinned. He wanted me to know he was watching me, wanting me, and the knot in the pit of my stomach tugged even tighter.

We’re friends, I reminded myself. He’s nineteen and won’t give my ass another thought after the summer, and besides, his grandmother has done way too much to help me for me to screw myself over by getting involved with him.

But when he stood, pressing his tall, built body close to mine to whisper in my ear, “You gonna answer me, gorgeous?” and I breathed in his scent, it was hard to stick to my guns.

Gorgeous.

No wonder everyone said he was going to be a star.

One word. One softly whispered word, and I was starstruck.

I held my breath. Released. Repeated. “She’s a … book character. Epic fantasy,” I murmured at last. I took a step away from him and forced a laugh. “She’s like the queen of all messed up siblings. If they ever bring her to the big screen, maybe your crazy sister can play her.”

Soundtrack: “Bottoms Up” by Brantley Gilbert (Can you guess what genre of music my hero performs?!)

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Little Rock Book Jam

July 11th, 11:00 AM – 4:00 PM

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Wicked Mafia Gets Lei’d

August 1st, 11:00 AM – 4:00 PM

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That’s Novel will be Interviewing Emily Snow on the Radio

June 24h at 8:00 PM EST

Call in an listen, or subscribe to the channel and hang out in the chat room!

This spotlight was brought to you by:

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR GENA SHOWALTER

INTRODUCES AN IRRESISTIBLE CHARMER WHO’S ABOUT TO MEET HIS MATCH…

THE HOTTER YOU BURN

The Original Heartbreakers

Blurb

An Original Heartbreaker novel.  Coming July 28th, 2015!

New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter is back with a sizzling Original Heartbreakers tale featuring a troubled playboy and the woman he can’t resist…

Beck Ockley is ruthless in the boardroom…and the bedroom. He’s never been with the same woman twice, and vows he never will. With a past as twisted as his, meaningless sex keeps the demons at bay. His motto: One and done. No harm, no foul.

Harlow Glass is the most hated girl in town. The beautiful artist is penniless, jobless and homeless. When she sneaks into Beck’s home—her ancestral estate—for food, she’s shocked by his early return…and her immediate, sizzling and intense attraction to him.

For the first time in Beck’s life, he can’t get a woman out of his mind. All too soon, friendship blooms into obsession and he’ll have to break her heart…or surrender his own.

AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / B&N

$7.99 U.S./$8.99 CAN.

ISBN-13: 978-0-373-77969-7

“Showalter writes fun, sexy characters you fall in love with!”

—Lori Foster, New York Times bestselling author

“Sassy, smart characters and an expertly woven, unconventional plot, The Closer You Come showcases Gena Showalter in all her shining talent.”

—Kristan Higgins, New York Times bestselling author

“Gena Showalter knows how to keep readers glued to the pages and smiling the whole time.”

—Lara Adrian, New York Times bestselling author

“Bold and witty, sexy and provocative.” —Carly Phillips, New York Times bestselling author

Exclusive Q&A:

1. Beck is a womanizer—what makes him an appealing leading man?

 GS: Is a he-slut appealing in real life? No way. But in fiction…bring it on! There’s something so tantalizing…so titillating about taming the ultimate bad boy. The sexy millionaire no other woman has managed to keep. The tortured alpha who softens only for the heroine of the book (cough the reader cough). He can’t get enough of her, only craves more. It means she’s special, one of a kind and a necessary part of his life. What’s not to love about that? (Shiver!)

Harlow ends up gaining some wonderful girlfriends as an adult. How important are female friendships to you?

 GS:  Very! I have a mom I love, two sisters I adore, in-laws I cherish and friends I treasure. They support and advise me. They tell me when I’m being an idiot (and yes, they even tell me when I look fat in jeans). So often female friendships are portrayed as petty, catty things, and I hate it. Women supporting other women…it’s powerful and beautiful and I hope to always express that in my books.

About The Author

USA TODAY bestselling author whose works have appeared in Cosmopolitan and Seventeen magazines, as well as Entertainment Weekly. Her novel Red Handed has been optioned by Sony Television. Critics have called her books “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly spellbinding stories,” while Showalter herself has been called “a star on the rise.” Her mix of humor, danger and wickedly hot sex provides wildly sensual page-turners sure to enthrall.

Excerpt

“I’m leaving, that’s what,” Harlow said. Determined words, snotty tone. She attempted to wrench herself from Beck’s grip.

“Oh, no.” Beck merely tightened his hold. “We’re going to have a glass of sweet tea while you two crazy kids get to know each other better.”

Harlow anchored her hands on her hips. “You know what? You’re right. We are going to get to know each other. But your presence is unnecessary, Beck. Leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“We don’t need—”

He cut her off, whispering, “If you and West get married and live happily ever after, you’ll have to get used to having me around.”

She snapped her mouth shut, then lifted her chin and grumbled, “That’s a very sad point.” She flashed a too-bright smile at West and eased into the chair Jase had vacated. “I’m game if you are.”

Beck vibrated with irritation as he carried a pitcher of tea and three glasses to the table and settled between the pair. “My girl here has certain ideas about the kind of man she wants to end up with,” he explained, “and I’d like to know if the two of you are compatible.”

Understanding dawned on West’s features, a smile nearly breaking free. He cleared his throat and donned his most uncaring expression. “Sure. Whatever.”

Beck poured the tea, handed out the glasses, and Harlow clutched hers as if it were a lifeline.

“Kick us off, sweet pea,” he said. “Tell my good buddy Lincoln—that’s his first name, in case you didn’t know—a little about yourself.”

“Well.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. “I’m twenty-six, and I’ve never been married.”

“Would you like a medal?” West muttered, while staring down at his cell phone, playing one of the games he’d created.

She glared at Beck, but he merely arched a brow.

Don’t make plans with men you don’t know.

“Yes, actually, I would like a medal, considering I’m hot but don’t realize it, which makes me even hotter.” The tremor had vanished, the snotty attitude firmly in its place. “It’s a miracle no one’s snatched me up. But then, most men are idiots, so…”

West smiled, realized his mistake, and glowered at his screen.

Beck braced elbows on the table. “You’re suggesting outward beauty is all that matters.”

“Hardly. My personality is hot, too. But Beck, darling.” Sugary-sweet tone now. Too sweet. “You aren’t part of this get-to-know-you session, even though you insist on being a total third wheel, so do us all a favor and zip your stupid lips.”

Then, she dismissed him. Looking to West, she traced her fingertips over the collar of her shirt, so feminine Beck’s every masculine instinct growled, hungry for the next meal. “So. Lincoln. How old are you?”

West played the video game a little longer before deigning to answer. “I’m twenty-eight, but I’ve got the stamina of an eighty-year-old coma victim. Horrible lover. Even worse cuddler.”

“Well, those skills can be taught,” she said, reaching over to caress his shoulder. “Anyway, you’re quite young to be so successful. It’s impressive.”

It was impressive. Beck wasn’t sure where he would have ended up without the guy.

West shrugged. “I work hard,” he said, then added, “probably too hard. I tend to ignore the people in my life. Especially women.”

“Well, I understand how taxing such a busy work schedule can be, and I commend you for it.” She gave his shoulder another caress, and Beck almost jerked the two apart. “I hope the lucky ladies in your life are as understanding as I am.”

“I guess,” West said and shrugged again.

“Wow, just look at these muscles, West. You are amazingly strong, aren’t you?” She cast another narrowed glance Beck’s way, presumably to make sure he was watching as she scooted her chair closer to West’s. “You know,” she said, the tip of her finger toying with the rim of West’s glass. When she caught a bead of condensation, she brought it to her lips and sucked, causing Beck’s groin to twitch behind his zipper. “I have a skill of my own, but it’s quite naughty.”

West glanced up, phone forgotten. “Do tell.”

“Yes. Do.” Beck simmered with renewed anger—even more desire. He smoothed a lock of hair from Harlow’s face. One touch, but he was greedy for more.

Her breath caught, but she leaned away from him, getting closer and closer to West, until her mouth was poised at the shell of his ear. In a husky voice low enough to be considered a whisper but loud enough for Beck to overhear, she said, “I’m super good at parking.”

Stick a fork in me. I’m done. Done with the conversation. Done with watching the object of his obsession doing her rock-solid best to arouse another male. “West doesn’t need to hear about that. Let’s go—”

“Even boys from two counties over dreamed of making out with me in the backseat of their trucks,” she continued with an effortless sensuality. “I’m very bendy.”

Beck slammed his glass on the table, tea sloshing over the sides of the rim. “Harlow here is looking to settle down forever,” he barked. “She thinks you’d make an awesome groom.”

“Marriage?” West sneered with distaste. “Me? Hell, no. Never.”

“He’s all for others tying the knot, but when it comes to himself he thinks the NewlywedGame should be called the Dig Your Own Grave game,” Beck explained, relaxing now that the conversation had taken a new direction.

Harlow unveiled a brittle smile. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person, Lincoln. You don’t mind if I call you Lincoln, do you?”

“Call me whatever you like, but I have met the right person.” His voice cracked. “She died.” He stood, his chair skidding behind him, and strode out of the kitchen.

Harlow rounded on Beck, all hint of supple, willing female gone. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. You did this.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” The words were nothing more than a hiss. “You wanted me to know I can’t win the affections of anyone else, that I’m stuck with you, destined to be your newest conquest.”

“Stuck with me?” he snarled.

“Yeah, that’s right. You aren’t the prize you think you are, Beck Ockley, but maybe West is. Maybe he’s worth fighting for. Maybe, unlike you, he has a heart and the ability to care for someone other than himself.”

“I have a heart. I care.”

She didn’t seem to hear him, plowing ahead. “You know, there are plenty of guys in town. Why focus all my efforts on just one? I’m sure lots of guys would like a chance to get to know the new me. I can bring them back to my RV—”

“My RV.”

“—and practice being married, just the way you suggested.”

Beck would burn the RV to ash first.

Too far gone to fight his sense of possession, he hooked his foot around the bottom of her chair and forced her chair closer, closer still. Their thighs touched, and she gasped, perhaps at the force he’d used, perhaps with a desire of her own.

He grabbed her by the waist and easily hefted her onto the table, on his feet and between her legs a second later, glaring down at her.

“I want you, and it’s past time I showed you how much. You’ll keep your sweet ass parked on this table and you’ll show me your skills. Me. No one else.” And then his hand was cupping the back of her neck, drawing her forward.

THE SHORTSTOP

A.M. MADDEN

July 13, 2015

Synopsis

“Quint and Annie sitting in a tree…K.I.S.S.I.N.G.”

Quint Lawson and Annie Weber heard that childhood song over and over and it never bothered them. Even though Quint was only five, Annie wasn’t just his neighbor. She would become his best friend and the love of his life. Annie wasn’t interested in dolls, or girly things when growing up. A tomboy at heart, having a boy as a best friend suited her just fine. That same boy captured her heart.

Quint had two passions, his girl and baseball. From kindergarten to college, Quint tore up every baseball diamond he played on. His position was shortstop. His talent was undeniable. Professional ball was most definitely in his future, and he was ready for it. Annie would be right by his side.

When everything in life is perfect, it’s hard to imagine heartbreak in any form. Quint wasn’t immune to its power. This shortstop had no idea what any form of heartbreak could do to his perfect world. When it hit, there were many casualties left in its wake…the most important one was Annie.

Can a person be prepared for, understand, or even endure a misfortune if they’ve never experienced one before? In Quint Lawson’s case the answer is no.

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Author bio

A.M. Madden is a wife, a mother, an avid reader of romance novels and now an author. In Back-up she aspired to create a fun, sexy, realistic romantic story. She wanted to create characters that the reader could relate to and feel as if they knew personally. A self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, she loves getting lost in a good book. She also uses every free moment of her time writing, while raising teenage boys.

Connect with A.M.

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Excerpt:

King

Tattooing Doe was the single most erotic moment of my life. Marking her perfect, pale skin with a tattoo I’d designed for her made me so fucking hard I had to adjust myself every thirty seconds in order to concentrate on my work.

When I was done, I handed her the hand mirror, and she walked over to the full-sized mirror that hung on the back of the door, like she’d seen dozens of my other clients do before. When she held up the hand mirror, she gasped.

“What?” I asked in a panic, hoping she didn’t already see what I’d hidden in the tattoo. I was an asshole for putting it there. I was an asshole for tattooing her in the first place.

I was just an asshole.

But I couldn’t help myself. My name needed to be on her. It wasn’t enough just to call her mine. I needed to mark her as well. So hidden in the vine work under the quote I found that I thought was perfect for her, was my name.

KING was woven into the design.  In order to see it you had to tilt your head or otherwise you wouldn’t notice it. But it was there.

I would tell her eventually of course, but I wanted it to be my secret for a while. She’d stopped being my possession a while ago, a lot longer before I cared to admit, but I still felt the need to mark her as mine.

I still liked the idea of owning her.

Only now, she owned me, too.

She didn’t notice the name. Tears filled her eyes. She stood there staring at the hand mirror in just her panties. Little cheeky ones where her ass hung out of the bottoms. Her tits were only inches from my face. Her tears of happiness made my dick twitch. Although her sad tears evoked the same response.

My dick wasn’t partial to which kind of tears he liked.

I took the mirror from her hand and lifted her up onto the counter. “You like it?” I asked, pushing her panties down her legs.

“I love it,” she panted, wrapping her legs around me, drawing me close. Her wetness soaking my boxers. I pushed them down with one hand. I’d been hard for three hours, the entire time I’d been working on her, and couldn’t wait any longer. I pushed inside her tight, wet heat.

We both moaned at the contact.

“You love it?” I asked, needing to hear her say it again.

“Yes, I love it!” she said as I thrust up into her, hard. “I love it. So much. I love you.”

I froze when I heard the words, and when I did, her eyes flung open.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh my god, I have that word vomit thing. I’m sorry.  Shit, I just meant that—”

“Shut the fuck up!” I demanded, thrusting hard to get her attention. She closed her eyes, and her head fell back. “That’s fucking better. Now, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while I fuck you.”

“Okay,” she whispered, breathless.

“Shut up,” I said again, and she closed her mouth. “Shut up so I can fuck you…and show you how much I love you.”

She nodded and although her eyes stayed shut, a tear rolled down her cheek. I sucked it off her chin before it could fall to the floor.

Then, I fucked her.

I showed her how much I loved her until I couldn’t tell where I started and she began. Until all that was in that room was me and her and the thing between us that kept pulling us together like magnets. Until we were lost in sensations and orgasms.

And in each other.

I fucked her until we were one person, and in a way we were, because I’d lost myself along the way and I found myself again in the most unlikely place.

I’d found myself again in the haunted eyes of a girl who was just as lost as I was.

Or maybe, we didn’t find each other at all.

Maybe, we just decided to be lost together.

KING. IS. COMING!

Meet King on June 15th!

Pre-order NOW AVAILABLE

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1ALhF4i

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1AOJb0q

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

Blurb

Homeless, hungry and desperate enough to steal, Doe has no memories of who she is or where she comes from.

A notorious career criminal just released from prison, King is someone you don’t want to cross unless you’re prepared to pay him back in blood, sweat, pu$$y or a combination of all three.

King’s future hangs in the balance. Doe’s is written in her past. When they come crashing together, they will have to learn that sometimes in order to hold on, you have to first let go.

Warning: This book contains graphic violence, consensual and nonconsensual sex, drug use, abuse, and other taboo subjects and adult subject matter. Although originally slated to be a standalone, KING is now a two part series.

About the Author:

T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and three feisty fur kids.

She attended Florida Gulf Coast University where she specialized in public speaking. After years working in real estate and new home construction, she decided it was finally time to stop pushing her dreams to the back burner and pursue writing seriously.

In the third grade she wrote her very first story about a lost hamster. It earned rave reviews from both her teacher and her parents.

It only took her twenty years to start the next one.

It will not be about hamsters.

Stalk Her: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, and Goodreads.