Title: Wizard or Warrior
By: LD Doornbosch
Publication Date: February 11, 2016
Genre: Non Fiction - Self Help
Social Media Links
Monday, June 27, 2016
Blog Tour + #Giveaway: Wizard or Warrior By LD Doornbosch @starange13
Review: Thief of Sanguardia (Skeleton Key) by Cherie Marks @CherieMarks
Thief of Sanguardia
by Cherie Marks
Published June 15th 2016
Genre: Paranormal, Vampires
BLURB:
Skeleton Key Book
Series
One Skeleton Key.
Endless Adventures.
His otherworldly charm isn’t an act.
Kaia Skipwith is having a very bad Monday. A reformed thief
who has to pull one last job in New York City to save her sister, she must
bring some barely-guarded, ancient artifact to the Seagate Building in
Manhattan by midnight Saturday, she’ll never see her sister again. An
in-the-bag finale for an experienced B&E expert such as herself. Yet, not
more than five minutes into the job, alarms blare and police cars screech up.
She grabs the creepy key with a skeleton emblem—a literal skeleton key—looks up
at the doors in front of her, and gets the strangest feeling that she’ll be
safe on the other side of that door.
Zegorie Fay of Clan Montgomerie has taken charge of the
Vampire Army, and though he knows his duty, he no longer knows why he fights.
War has been raging in Sanguardia for as long as he can remember. Battle-worn
and searching for meaning in his existence, he gets distracted in a most
unusual way. The minute he sees her, he knows she’s trouble. For one, she’s the
most attractive female he’s ever seen. For another, she’s clearly human, enemy
to the vampires and bringers of war. But, above all, he senses something
special about her, something…otherworldly. He must possess her secrets.
Purchase:
EXCERPT:
They emerged from the trees into a small clearing, and
Zegorie stepped up next to Kaia until they were side-by-side. “If I were a
barath, this is where I would wait for an ambush.”
“What’s a barath?”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.”
With measured steps and vigilance, they crossed the grassy
clearing, but before they made it inside the next stand of trees, Zegorie heard
the tell-tale growl coming from his left. He looked up, knowing exactly what
he’d find in the tree above him. Crouched on a branch, ready to pounce was
exactly the dreaded creature he feared finding here. A large, furred animal
with rippling muscles and pointed incisors that stretched beyond its wide
mouth. The barath swiped its large, flat tongue along its jagged teeth as if
readying for its next meal.
“Spoke too soon, it would seem. That... is a barath.” He
sunk into a defensive pose and pulled his sword from the scabbard across his
back, prepared for the imminent attack. Without taking his eyes off the animal,
he spoke two words to Kaia, “Run! Now!”
He didn’t have time to see if she followed his order as the
barath gave a great roar and flung itself off the branch, mouth wide, claws
raised, attempting to take out Zegorie’s throat with a swipe of its paw. Yet,
Zegorie was ready, diving to the ground and rolling away just as it neared.
Within a few seconds, he was on his feet, sword raised, facing the dangerous
creature. They circled each other cautiously, searching for an opportunity for
attack.
Patience. Let it come
to you. He waited until the barath lowered its lower body, clearly getting
ready to charge. As it leaped off its front paws, Zegorie raised his broadsword
and slashed downward, aiming for its exposed chest, but the animal surprised
him. With its powerful legs, it jumped out of his reach, over his head, and
landed behind him. He twisted just in time to slap the flat of his blade
against the velocity of a descending, plate-sized paw.
He slashed his sword with an offensive move aimed at the
barath’s head, but the animal jumped back a few feet out of his range. If he
could just catch it in the right spot, this would end quickly. He really needed
this to end quickly because he couldn’t afford to put Kaia in this kind of
danger. Humans were fragile, and Kaia wouldn’t last more than a minute with a
forest full of dangerous creatures. He had to end it now.
Time slowed, and in a charged moment, Zegorie met the feral
gaze of the animal. He’d know the exact instant when the barath would attack.
Zegorie pulled a deep breath in through his nose and readied himself. The
minute it leaped, he’d wait for its descent and slice his sword across its
throat. The barath tensed its muscles, and Zegorie squeezed the handle of his
sword in preparation. With a growl, it leaped in the air, and, for what seemed
like minutes but lasted only seconds, Zegorie watched and waited, sword raised
slightly at the right of his chest.
Suddenly, as he prepared to strike, he heard a loud crack
and the animal’s head snapped backward as its body continued on its trajectory
and fell hard toward him. He swung his blade and knocked the heavy, limp body
down before it crushed him. With the momentum of his swing, he went to his
knee, but quickly scrambled to his feet, turning to piece together what had
happened.
Behind him, Kaia grinned, just lowering a still-smoking
handgun. He stared, stunned for the briefest of moments. She stood there, her
hair had come loose and hung down her back and blew around her head like a
fiery mane. She looked like the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
“Have you had that gun the entire time?”
“Of course. I don’t usually carry, though I chill at the
shooting range when I’m stressed out. But, the job I was on felt like a set-up
from the start. Something told me it was a good idea to walk out of the door
packing, and looks my instincts were on point.”
“Yes. On point. You’ve had the gun the whole time? And
haven’t used it on my men or me. You threatened with the cleaner instead.”
“Oh, I thought about it, big guy.” She put the gun out of
sight in a hidden holster at her hip that he would’ve never guessed was there.
He almost demanded she hand it over to him, but if she hadn’t used it on him up
until now, she probably wouldn’t. “But, you never gave me reason to kill you,
and trust me, if I shoot my gun, my aim is deadly. Besides, I only have six bullets—
five now. You have way more men than that. My guess is that more than six would
come after me or try to stand in my way.”
Had he really thought she couldn’t handle herself in this
forest? He would never underestimate her again.
My Review:
Kaia Skipwith is a thief and is one of the best in the
business. If she can’t steal it then it can’t be stolen. That is sort of her
motto as a thief. Kaia was coerced into doing this job by Finn McClaire. Finn
has taken her sister; Aubrey hostage in order to get Kaia to do this job for
him. He knew she could do the job where others probably could not.
Kaia is performing her last job when just minutes after she
entered the building and taken possession of her prize, a skeleton key she
hears sirens and just as someone is coming into the room Kaia spots a door she
did not see before and just knows that she would be safe behind this door.
When Kaia steps through this door just in the nick of time
she enters the world of Sanguardia. A world that she did not know existed until
this moment. In Sanguardia Kaia meets the handsome Zegorie Fay of Clan
Montgomerie, the leader of the vampire army. The vampires have been in war with
the humans for a very long time. It is all Zegorie knows.
Kaia is attracted to Zegorie right off the bat. She thinks
he is very handsome. After spending some time with him Kaia’s body starts feelings
things that she has not felt before or not exactly like that. Kaia knows she
can’t have a relationship with him because she has to find a way back home so
she can save her sister before the deadline that Finn placed upon her.
Zegorie is tired of fighting and is searching for a way to
stop the war when he sees Kaia for the first time. He knows right from the
start that she is special and that she holds the key that will stop the war although
he doesn’t know just how right he really is at that moment. At that time all he
is seeing is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.
Will Kaia ever find her way home? Can she save her sister
before it is too late? Will Zegorie ever find a way to stop the war so everyone
can live in peace and the killing will stop? Can Kaia and Zegorie ever be together?
Could they have a long distance relationship, Kaia in one world and Zegorie in
another?
I have truly loved reading Thief of Sanguardia. I loved the
world that Cherie created in Thief of Sanguardia. I love the whole new world of
the vampires. These vampires will take you to a whole new universe one that I
have not read or heard of before. Thief of Sanguardia will take you to places
you have never been before. It will grab a hold of you from the very first word
and will not let go until the end. If you have not read Thief of Sanguardia
then I highly recommend that you do. You will not regret it for one minute. It
will blow your mind in more ways than one.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
It all started with an old fashioned typewriter. When my
family brought it home, I knew what I wanted to do. All those stories rolling
around in my head could finally get out. The press and click of the keys were
satisfying in their own right, but when I pulled out a finished page, I knew
this was for me. Since then, I’ve graduated to a laptop, but the stories still
find a way out.
I’m a breast cancer survivor, a teacher, a wife, a mother,
and from the very beginning—a storyteller. Always a hint humorous and honest to
a fault, I love to make people laugh, smile, and have “a-ha” moments. My goal
in life is to achieve tact and stop procrastinating. The battle wages on.
Release Celebration + #Giveaway: The Wicked North by Gina Danna @ginadanna1 @Barclay_PR
From USA Today bestselling author,
Gina Danna, comes a historical romance full of deceit, betrayal and passion
that ignite the flames of love between two lovers on opposite sides of a war.
Giveaway:
1 winner will receive a $25 Amazon
Giftcard & 3 winners will receive an ecopy of choice from Gina’s backlist
a Rafflecopter giveaway
About The Wicked North:
Bound by
duty and honor to wear the Union blue, a Southern-born West Point officer
fights his own desires and the need to protect the woman he abandoned, he
disobeys his orders to find her, as the Army of the Potomac marches toward her
family’s home near Richmond.
She has
the guts and willpower to protect her home from the hated Yankee aggressors,
but when that traitor to the South appears at her door, she’s torn between
wanting to shoot him and to be held in his arms again. Can she forgive him for
their past indiscretion or does she turn him in to be executed, a traitor to
both sides?
In the
summer of 1862, her family’s plantation becomes the personal battle ground
between them as deceit, betrayal and passion ignite the flames of love and hate
that burn brighter than the roar of the guns and rivers of blood surrounding
them.
Exclusive Excerpt:
Rose Hill Plantation, Silvers’ residence.
Parlor game of the 19th century called “Kissing the Corners” – a
kissing game where a gentleman was stationed in each corner of the room and the
ladies went to get a kiss. It was a ‘forfeit’ to redeem for losing in an
earlier game. Emma, our heroine, finds herself faced with kissing Jack, the man
she so wanted to kiss but this was her first time kissing. Would he kiss her or
not?
Next was Jack. She walked to his
corner, gazing into his glowing emerald eyes.
“Emma,”
he whispered.
She
heard voices behind her. The others had already finished. She was the last.
Turning her head slightly, she looked for Caroline. She caught a glimpse of her
sister in her buttercup yellow dress, talking to Abigail, Charles and the
twins.
“I’m
right here, Emma,” Jack said, drawing her attention back to him.
He
was too handsome. She wanted to both kiss him and avoid him. A tingle in her
belly spread up to her nipples.
When
Jack smiled his devilish smile, Emma felt as though she would turn into a
puddle at his feet. Her mouth went dry as she stood there, frozen.
“Why
didn’t you ever write to me?”
The
question rattled her, bringing her back to her senses. “I sent you a letter,
but I never received one from you.”
He
quietly chuckled. “I sent you a letter, hoping you’d respond.”
“I
never received any correspondence from you,” she said.
“Hmm, I never
got yours either.” His low drawl reached inside, soothing her. “But,” he
continued, “I believe you owe me a kiss.”
She
opened her mouth, but not a sound came out.
***
Jack
stood still. She fidgeted. The silk dress clung to her breasts and her narrow
waist. Her cage crinoline maintained a respectable space between them,
regardless of how much he wanted her closer. He put his hands at the waist of
her skirt and felt her tremble. She bit her lower lip. Oh, how he wanted to
soothe that lip.
With
a gentle tug, he pulled her closer. The motion unbalanced her, and her hands
sought his arms. When she still didn’t lean up to kiss him, he brought her even
closer, his eyes fixed on her lower lip as her teeth released it.
He
wouldn’t meet her halfway. This could be the only time he’d have the advantage,
and he didn’t want to waste it. Because Emma’s feet were slightly lifted from
the floor, she gripped his arms tightly.
He
brought her to him. As he kissed Emma, his tongue traced her lower lip before
his mouth enveloped hers. He wanted her to open her mouth, and he prodded the
crease between her lips, coaxing her with his tongue. She parted her lips but
pulled her head back as his tongue invaded her mouth.
She
tasted like strawberries and wine. It was an intriguing taste and he wanted
more. She felt soft and warm against him. He knew he was pushing the limits of
the game and propriety, but when he glimpsed her eyelashes feathered on her
cheek, he almost growled. Abruptly, Jack released Emma and set her on the floor,
his hands remaining at her waist. He could feel her shiver as she looked into
his face, her eyes wide open. He smiled.
Within
a second, she raced away from him as fast as she could in a ladylike manner.
Jack smirked. She had enjoyed his kiss. With his head cocked to the side, he
walked to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy.
***
When
Emma had stepped away from Jack, she did everything within her power to control
her nerves. Her lips felt swollen. His hands had left an impression on her
waist—an impression that wasn’t his to make. Her next and last corner was
Billy’s. He grinned at her as she tried to maintain a steady gait, but the
memory of Jack’s kiss tingled down her spine, making her feel hot and cold
simultaneously. Stop it! She gave her
head a small shake and stopped, inhaling a large breath before returning
Billy’s smile.
But she wanted to kiss Jack.
No, what he did
was take advantage of the situation. How vulgar of him! Why did she crave more?
“Is something
wrong, Emma?”
Conflicting
thoughts clouded her mind, and she didn’t realize she was already in front of
Billy. Politely dismissing his concern, she said, “No, no, nothing is wrong.”
Billy’s
head lowered slightly for her. “Kiss me, or pay a higher price forfeit.”
Emma
was curious about what the higher price might be, but, after Jack’s advances,
she ignored it. Composing herself, she met Billy’s lips part way.
He
didn’t play with her lips nor press to enter her mouth. In a very gentlemanly
manner, he gave her a quick kiss and bowed away. No fire came from his lips as
it had from Jack’s. If anything, she was gravely disappointed that Billy hadn’t
tried to kiss her like Jack had. She should have been glad, but she wasn’t.
Like
a good girl, she placed her hand on his sleeve and let him escort her back to
the others. Caroline enticed them all to start charades. Jack was with them, a
devilish grin on his face that Emma had the sudden urge to slap. When his
glance fell her way, excitement raced through her veins, and she had the
strangest sensation her nipples were tightening. Tamping down the fury of
emotions Jack caused, she spent the rest of the evening at Billy’s and
Caroline’s side and away from Jack.
About Gina Danna:
A USA Today Bestselling author,
Gina Danna was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and has spent the better part of
her life reading. History has always been her love and she spent numerous hours
devouring historical romance stories, always dreaming of writing one of her
own. After years of writing historical academic papers to achieve her
undergraduate and graduate degrees in History, and then for museum programs and
exhibits, she found the time to write her own historical romantic fiction
novels.
Now residing in Texas, under the supervision of her three dogs, she writes amid
a library of research books, with her only true break away is to spend time
with her other lifelong dream - her Arabian horse - with him, her muse can
play.
Book Blitz + #Giveaway: A Sprint to His Heart by Lyla Bardan @LylaBardan @XpressoTours
A Sprint to His Heart
Lyla Bardan
Publication date: July 13th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
An ordinary young woman with a dream to be a professional cyclist falls for an extraordinary young man who thinks she’s anything but ordinary.
Bailey Meyers doesn’t have time for distractions, much less a boyfriend, so why does she agree to date the drop-dead sexy Fae artist who loves to watch her race? Because for once, she’d like to take a risk off the racecourse, even after her coach’s reminder of his no dating policy. A policy that puts her racing career in jeopardy when she’s kicked off the team, as if a concussion from a crash and an accusation of doping with dark Fae blood wasn’t enough.
She can’t stay away from the enchanting Piran of Sava…until she discovers he’s not who she thought he was. Can their love stay on course when Bailey joins a cycling team a thousand miles away and Piran is promised to a Fae princess?
*Are you a reviewer? You can request an ARC of A Sprint to His Heart here!
Author Bio:
Lyla Bardan wrote her first romance in fifth grade and was horrified when her male teacher read it aloud in class. She wrote her second romance in the seventh grade after seeing two great horned owls engage in a rather fascinating courtship dance. As the male hooted, danced, and bobbed for the female, Lyla knew there was a story to be told. This discovery of passion in the animal world led to a lifelong interest in science, other worldly creatures, and their love stories.
While in college, Lyla joined a sci-fi/fantasy acting group, where she and others made puppets and produced plays for fellow students. Her favorite part was not creating the overly detailed and ornate puppets of fairies, demons, and dragons, but writing romance bits into every script.
It wasn’t until years into an unfulfilling scientific research career that Lyla came back to her roots of writing. Reaching into her dreams and fantasies, she left the research behind and now stays busy writing from the comfort of her home office, overlooking her well-maintained fairy garden, fruit bearing trees, and a number of birdhouses. There she can relax and remember that it was two birds that originally sparked her interest in love stories just begging to be told.
Note: Bits of this fascinating biography (written by Lyla’s daughter) are actually true!
Blurb Blitz + #Giveaway: 26 Hours in Paris by Demi Alex @DemiAlex2U @GoddessFish
26 Hours in Paris
by Demi
Alex
GENRE: Erotic Romance
BLURB:
One day to see the sights.
One night to change your life. .
.
Magazine writer
Kathryn Taylor is traveling from New York to Paris for work. But the flirtatious
Frenchman she left long ago is waiting at the airport--and he wants to play. .
.
No one can guide Kat
through the sensual city's delights like Marko Renard. He let her get away
once, and now he's determined to make her stay--even if he has to tie her down.
He will wrap her in cashmere, tease her tongue with chocolate, and take her to
the peak of the Eiffel Tower . . . But can he convince the bohemian beauty she
belongs with him, in his luxuriously decadent world? In business, he's the
master--but it's Kat's body and soul he truly longs to rule. He has just enough
time to show her the pleasures of the boulevards, the boulangeries--and the
bedroom. To finally get her to just say oui, he'll have to seize the day--and
the night. . .
Buy links:
EXCERPT:
Kat was a damn good journalist, as
was Charlie. She’d worked her ass off and done her time, as had Charlie. But,
shit. Kathryn wanted her byline so bad, she could practically see the ink on the
paper as their boss proposed the assignment. She had to enter the arena and
fight for her career.
“Get out there. Do your research,”
Paul said, raising his arm and circling his hand above his head. “Lasso someone
that makes your body hum, and write about the perfect place to find love,
ladies.”
“Seriously, Paul? Lasso someone that
makes our bodies hum?” Kat rolled her eyes. Like those kinds of men were easy
to find. With the same amount of exaggeration Paul had exhibited, Kathryn swept
her arm through the air and landed the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Wait. Hold on a minute. Wait . . . wait. I’m seeing a handsome man, in a
far-off and romantic place, sweeping me off my feet.”
Actually, she could envision
someone, someone in a far-off place, sweeping her off her feet—in her dreams.
But no one in New York fit the bill or compared to that distant someone.
“Paris is romantic,” Kathryn
admitted in a low voice.
AUTHOR BIO:
Demi
Alex writes
steamy romances, blending emotional fulfillments of the heart and carnal
desires in her work. Born in Athens, Greece, and raised in her own version of a
big fat Greek life in New York, Demi was infected with book and travel bugs
early, and currently admits the only therapy for this condition is to combine
the two in fictional stories that allow her characters to let loose and
experience all they crave. She attended SUNY at Stony Brook, and after changing
her major numerous times, graduated with a degree in Public Policy and
International Studies. Her characters are loosely based on people she
encounters while she travels or during the time she spends matching homes to
owners as a Realtor. She simply has a passion for matchmaking that can’t be put
to rest.
Giveaway:
A digital copy of 26 Hours in Paris
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning.
Book Blitz: Love Is Crazy by Abby Brooks @starange13
Title: Love Is Crazy
Series: Love Is Series #1
By: Abby Brooks
Publication Date: May 30, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
What's the best part about growing up in a small town surrounded by cornfields and cow poop? That's right. Not much. Especially when you've got the heart of a wanderer like I do. Even my name is made up of places.
Dakota London. Destined to travel the world.
Except not really, because in all my twenty-five years, I still haven't left my hometown.
And then, one day, in true once upon a time fashion, Dominic Kane comes swaggering into the bar where I work. The Dominic Kane. The travel photographer I've been following for years, living vicariously through his pictures.
We have this gravity about us. We're drawn together and couldn't pull away if we wanted to. This electricity we have, it's a force of nature.
When he asks me to go with him, it's like I'm getting everything I ever wanted. But I can't just leave my life, as small as it may be. Taking a chance like that on a stranger is crazy.
Right?
Love is crazy is a stand-alone, full length novel with no cliffhanger and a guaranteed happily ever after.
**For a limited time, Love Is Crazy includes Blown Away (Ian & Juliet): The Moore Brothers Book One.**
Chapter 1
Dakota
What do you do when the guy you knew better than to go out with steals your purse and disappears when you're in the bathroom? First, you sling curse words around the restaurant-loudly of course. Maybe bang your fist on a table, causing the silverware to clank against the plates and making all the people around you gasp, jump, and then stare at you like you're crazy. Then, you call your sisters for help and complain about it with them over margaritas.
At least that's what I did.
And it hasn't been working out the way I expected. Not at all.
What did I expect? Comfort. Commiseration. A gentle hand on my shoulder and a kind word for their poor little sister and her bad luck with men.
What am I getting? Not that.
"Come on, Dakota. You just left your purse at the table?" Chelsea, the oldest of us London girls lets loose one of her patented, Judgmental Older Sister sighs and gives me a look that sits somewhere between condescending and sympathetic.
I take a long drink of my margarita-the bartender here at this restaurant is good, but I'm better-and suck in my lips as I swallow. "I didn't call you out here to point out how this is all my fault."
"Well of course it's not all your fault." Maya, my slightly-sweeter-than-Chelsea-but-still-judgemental-because-she's-older sister smiles at me as if that will make it all better.
"So it's still kind of my fault?" And here it comes. All the reasons that Dakota London fucked up once again given to me one line at a time from the two people I trust most in the world.
Chelsea tucks her super straight platinum hair behind her ear and crosses her arms on the table. "Well, you did go out with him even though you met him at the bar called The Bad Apple."
"Hey! That's my place of employment, thank you very much! What's wrong with the bar?"
"It's called The Bad Apple," Maya says, as if that clears it all up. "What kind of guys do you think it's going to attract?"
"I think it's just the kind of guys I attract." I drop my chin towards my chest, fully prepared to pout my way through the evening.
Chelsea politely sips at her margarita and puts on the sweetest of faces. "Yeah…" She draws out the word. "About that. I've been meaning to talk to you about your choices on the man front."
"See! There you go blaming me again! This is so not my fault." I gesture at my empty purse and the people at the surrounding tables who are still eyeing me warily. So I got a little mad when I saw The Asshole had stolen my wallet and left me with a huge ass check to pay and no way to pay for it. I don't think I'm the only one who would find that just a tad upsetting.
"Aren't you even a little bit tired of having this conversation?" Maya asks with that same mix of condescension and sympathy that Chelsea has been using.
I should have just called Maya and asked for some help paying the bill and getting home. What was I thinking, calling both of them out here and asking them to have some conciliatory drinks with me?
"I'm sorry," I say, so ready for this night to be over. Isn't there like a sister code or something where they're supposed to stick up for me no matter what? "I wasn't aware that we've had the some jerk stole my wallet and stuck me with the bill conversation before."
"No…" Chelsea picks at the salt on the rim of her margarita glass and hits me with a look. The look. The one that says I'm not going to like what she has to say. "But we have had the some jerk took advantage of you and now you need our help conversation a lot. Like a lot, a lot."
"Oh. That one." I might not like hearing it, but I can't deny it's true. I run my hands up into my shoulder length blonde hair. And to think I actually took the time to style it in honor of this night with The Asshole. Wanted to look pretty for him. Just so he could rip me off.
"Yeah. That one."
"Well. Okay. When you put it that way. I'm very tired of this particular conversation." I fiddle with the salt shaker in its little metal stand on the table while the waitress come to check on us-eyeing me like I might jump up and bite her or something. "It's even worse that we're having it here. Everyone thinks I'm crazy."
"Well, I'm sure you handled the whole thing so gracefully," says Maya with a smile that says she knows just exactly how I handled it. Loudly. With much cussing.
"Oh sure." I put on a Very Serious and Sweet face and nod. "I handled it with my typical grace and charm."
Chelsea laughs into her margarita and pulls the glass away just enough to speak. "Is that why everyone keeps staring at us?" She takes a long drink and sits the glass down. She's still laughing, but it's not at me anymore. It's because of me. I know she's always secretly admired my ability to say whatever I'm thinking without worrying what people will think of me. Just like I've always admired her ability to hold her tongue when it's appropriate.
"Maybe." I draw out the word. "I'm very threatening."
Maya laughs. "Oh yes. All five foot three inches of you. The scariest little blonde thing in at least three counties."
"It's the tattoo," I say, flashing my wrist to show off the three tiny birds taking flight there. "Terrifying."
"Utterly." Chelsea nods knowingly.
"You know," I say, drawing up my shoulders and releasing them with a sigh. "You two are my favoritest people. Ever." I mean it. Chelsea and Maya are my best friends. A bond made all the stronger because we shared the same room for most of our lives.
"Sure," says Maya. "You say that now that you don't have a way to pay for the drinks."
"Or the meal you had with that jerk." Chelsea shakes her head and that Judgy Big Sister look creeps back into her eyes. "Let me guess. You guys had appetizers and dessert."
"And it was his idea," Maya adds while I nod, pouting.
"I am such an idiot." The Asshole had suggested we go all out. Order everything we could possibly want, without worrying about anything. And here I'd thought he was just being romantic…
Chelsea and Maya exchange a look, one that makes me wonder how long they've been waiting for a chance to say whatever they're about to say.
"About that…" Chelsea takes a drink and eyes me with the same wary look the rest of the people in this stupid restaurant have been giving me for the last hour or so. I sit back and prepare myself for whatever they have to say.
"We think you should be more selective about the guys you date." Maya says it in one big rush of words and then sits back with worry clenching her eyebrows together.
"In fact…" Chelsea sits back, too. The same look of concern tightening her eyes. "We think you should be more selective about everything in your life." She pauses. Watches me like I'm a wounded tiger who might spring up and eat her at any moment.
I nod. I'd like to say that I have no idea why they're acting so nervous right now, but I do have a tendency to react emotionally. They're probably waiting for me to cry. Or yell. Or storm off and leave them with the bill. I won't lie. I consider all three. But since I pretty much agree with them, I just take a careful drink of my margarita and wait for them to continue.
With another quick glance to Maya, Chelsea leans forward and unleashes The Speech. "You're so much more than a bartender who works at a cheap bar. You're so smart. So talented."
"And too pretty for the jerks you keep picking up." Maya reaches out and puts her hand on mine.
"What happened to the girl who wanted to travel? The girl who always said even her names were places and if that wasn't a sign that she was supposed to see the world, then what was? The girl who used to write?"
I clear my throat and fiddle with the salt shaker again. "Travel costs money I don't have and writing sure won't pay the bills." I shrug, trying not to show them how much the realization that real life sucks bothers me. "Besides. I like making drinks at The Bad Apple. Never a dull night, that's for sure."
Which was true. I do like the energy of talking to different people all night long. Of the music playing super loud. Of the lights careening off the bottles of liquor lining the shelves on the wall behind the bar. So I'm not a physical therapist like Chelsea or a pediatrician like Maya. So I'm not on the traditional London Fast Track to Success. That doesn't bother me. At least not a lot. But I am getting really tired of picking up jerks.
"So what do I do?" I ask and hold up a hand as both of my sisters suck in a big breath as if they have an entire novel's worth of advice for me. "About the not dating jerks thing. The rest of my life is fine."
Which it is. Kind of. I just need a little more time to figure out what I want to do when I grow up is all.
My sisters both close their mouth against whatever it was they were going to say and each of them lets out a long breath. Chelsea bites her bottom lip while Maya twirls her finger in her long brown hair and looks at the table.
"My life is fine." I repeat myself because clearly they were more interested in talking about my career choice and living situation than they were about the guys I go out with. "But I have a seriously bad track record with the men. What do I do?"
The girls are quiet. Still. Some more. I'm busy trying to ignore the rush of indignation and irritation roaring through my veins. I'm only twenty-five. So what if they were both college graduates by the time they were my age? I'm not them. That's been clear our whole lives.
"For one," Chelsea finally says. "No more picking up guys at the bar."
"At the bar or at a bar. Because where else am I supposed to pick them up?"
"At bars in general. Just think about the kind of people who hang out in bars all the time."
"Uhh … the fun kind?" I know Chelsea's only trying to help, but I love spending my nights off at a bar, drinking in the energy of many people gathered in one place, the music and the dancing, the laughter. Hell, I strike up conversations with strangers just for a chance to see life through their point of view.
"Okay," says Maya, clearly seeing the landmine Chelsea just stepped onto. "Just the bar. No more bad apples from The Bad Apple." She chuckles at herself and takes a sip of her margarita, amusement dancing in her eyes.
'Okay." I bob my head in agreement. "It's probably a bad idea to be dating people from work anyway. Next?"
"He needs a home."
"And a good car."
"No tattoos!"
"A decent job!"
"A life plan!"
My sisters ricochet their requirements right off each other, one after the other, information coming at me machine gun style.
"Clearly you've had time to think about this."
"We may have talked about it once or twice."
"Okay, so you want him to have a home, a car, a steady job, a life plan, more brain cells than tattoos. I think I can get behind that." Even if I don't have one single clue as to where I was going to find a guy like that. A guy who met those requirements would count as an actual, honest to goodness adult. I'm not exactly the best at adulting and the guys that end up in my circles aren't that good at adulting either.
"Anything else?" I asked.
"Just remember," says Chelsea.
Maya and Chelsea took one last look at each other and in then in one rush of words so perfect and in tune they might as well have been choreographed they hit me with their most important requirement.
"You can't meet him at The Bad Apple."
Chapter 2 Dakota
Wouldn't you know, Maya and Chelsea throw down the No More Douchebags gauntlet just in time for the most beautiful male creature to ever walk this earth to swagger right on into The Bad Apple and have a seat at the bar. I'm not lying when I say his entrance is totally worthy of any Hollywood movie ever. He even goes so far as to pause and flash me a swoon-worthy smile before hopping up onto a stool at the bar, laying his phone and laptop down beside him.
But this is where the Hollywood hero picture falls apart a little because who brings a laptop into a bar?
A businessman? A tech mogul? A guy who just totally just took a selfie, flashing that same, slightly familiar and still swoon-worthy smile at his phone? Who knows about the first two, but that last one? Yeah. That just happened.
What kind of guy takes selfies at a bar? Maybe he's less businessman or tech mogul and more college student or gym rat. But he looks too world-wise to be in college. And not muscle-bound enough to be a gym rat. Not that he's old and out of shape. He defies classification. Which makes him interesting.
And boy do I love interesting.
"What can I get you?" I lean on the bar and wait to steal this guy's attention away from his technology.
He glances at me, deems me barely worthy of his time, and goes back to messing with his phone. "Whiskey. Neat."
Great. Even his drink is bad ass.
And his voice is as dark as his hair, as rich as his drink. His eyes are so brown they look almost black in the low light of The Bad Apple. He glances at me again, probably because I haven't done anything but stare at him since he sat down. Flushing, I turn away and reach for the Jack Daniels-a safe bet in a bar like this one. If he had a brand, he would have told me. As I pour his drink, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
"Did you just take a picture of me?" I ask as I slide his drink across the bar towards him
He nods without looking up from his phone. "Yep. Congratulations. You are about to become mildly famous on the internet."
He waves his phone at me as if that explains everything and I see he's logged into Instagram and is clearly in the process of making a post. A bunch of things click into place.
My jaw drops. "You're Dominic Kane!" There may or may not be a goofy grin stretching my face into something that somewhat resembles a fangirl smile. "The travel photographer, right?"
"None other," he says and drops his chin in a slight bow. He flares his fingers and smiles. "I didn't know I was that recognizable."
"I may or may not be one of your biggest fans." I smile, hoping that I sound more cool and coy than desperate and gushy. "I kind of live vicariously through your pictures."
"Oh yeah?"
"Sure. I've always wanted to travel, but alas..." I glance around the quickly filling bar. "I don't exactly have the kind of job that allows for it."
A large herd of actual college kids claim about half the bar in a swarm of testosterone and monosyllabic conversation that fights for dominance over the music throbbing over the speakers. I nod towards Dominic and head over to take their orders, leaning in to hear them over the general cacophony that is The Bad Apple. Of course, they can't resist flirting and double of course, The Bad Apple doesn't appear to be their first stop tonight. I fend off a few drunken advances and fill their orders, constantly aware of the guy at the other end of the bar.
The super-hot guy with the coolest job ever.
The mildly famous internet celebrity.
The Instagram personality with over a hundred thousand followers.
The YouTuber with a ton of subscribers.
The guy with the dark hair and dark eyes and a twisting series of tattoos poking out from under his shirt sleeve. The guy who has been on just about every continent on this planet and has the pictures to prove it. A guy who has to have his fair share of interesting stories to share with me, to help me imagine-if only for a second-that I'm anywhere but dumb old Ohio surrounded by anything but rows of corn.
I finish with the college jerks and head back towards Dominic, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, a fish to a lure, a paperclip to a magnet. Like lightning to water. Like plants to sunlight. Like birds to the air and fish to the sea…
Basically, I couldn't have avoided going to stand next to him if I wanted to.
"Ready for another?" I ask, indicating his empty glass.
Dominic nods and fiddles with his phone while I pour him another couple fingers of Jack.
"That was pro-level stuff over there," he says, indicating the jock herd with a nod of his head. "I don't think they even realize how shot down they actually are."
I shrug. "Can't tell them what I'm really thinking or my tips suffer." I lean on the bar again, rising up on my tiptoes to close the distance between us. "Gotta let them think they have a chance."
"Is that what you're doing with me?" He smiles in a way that tells me he totally doesn't believe that. "Making me feel famous so I leave you a good tip?"
"Totally." I nod and smile and disappear to check on the frat boys.
The rest of the night passes in a flurry of customers and drinks and music so loud I know I'm going to have a headache by the end of the night. Dominic stays. And in between the surge of drink orders, I talk to him.
As much as I try to hide it, I'm totally fangirling. Dominic Kane really is my absolute most favorite person to follow on Instagram. Not only are his pictures truly stunning, but he's approachable as far as internet personalities go. He responds to the people who comment on his posts, strikes up conversations with them, shares his stories as if they were old friends. I've gotten a kick out of his sense of humor for a while now. I've never actually commented on his stuff because that's just not me, but I have liked the hell out of most of them.
The evening stretches on and the bar-which always starts out quiet before it gets too loud-is on its way back to quiet again when I finally park myself near Dominic. "So here's the thing," I say, leaning on the bar again. "You took my picture, so I think I should get a picture of you in return."
"Oh yeah? Is that how this works?" His laptop is closed and his phone is face down beside him and I finally have his full attention. And wow. I'm not sure I was prepared for the power behind those eyes. This is a man who sees stuff for a living. What exactly does he see when he looks at me? I fight the urge to fiddle with my hair. The last thing I want him to see is me being nervous.
"Totally. A picture for a picture." I nod as if I'm talking about well-known social customs, as if what I'm talking about has been handed down from generation to generation throughout the ages. I pull my phone out of my back pocket like things have already been decided. Which they have, actually.
"You're a much more interesting subject than I am," he says as I point my phone at him. I actually snort and immediately regret it. "No." I drop my phone and hit him with my most incredulous look. "I'm just a bartender in a little bar in Ohio. You're a world traveler who inspires hundreds of thousands of people on the internet. You win the interesting game." I lift my phone up again and Dominic shrugs.
"Let me prove it. Come here."
Intrigued, I do what he says, coming around the bar to stand next to him. He hops off the stool and takes my phone from me. Leans down to wrap his arm around my shoulder and holds it out at arm's length. "Say cheese."
I smile broadly and say cheese. Dominic doesn't take the picture. I turn to him, confused and get distracted studying his profile, suddenly so very aware of just how much bigger he is than me. How close we are. How he smells like whiskey. How much better looking he is up close.
And that's when I hear the click of the camera on my phone.
"I so wasn't ready!" I cry and try to snatch the phone from him so I can delete what's sure to be one of the worst pictures of me ever.
Dominic chuckles as he holds the phone out of my reach, an easy thing since I'm tiny and he's apparently not. "Hold on, now," he says. "Who's the professional here?"
"Professional or not, I have every right to see that picture and delete it if it's awful."
"It's not awful."
Dominic lowers the phone and hands it to me. "Just so you know, that picture is my intellectual property and I have every right to sue you if you delete it without my permission."
I look at him, something stern and real in his voice making me wonder if he's actually serious. "I won't delete it." I slide open the phone and find the picture and just stare.
There he is, smiling that smile that I've come to know through so many pictures in so many different places. He's handsome, of course, always is, his dark features giving him that mysterious look while the warmth of his smile makes him feel like an old friend.
But the woman tucked into his arm? That's so not me. Dakota London is a tiny blonde, a fun-sized woman. People call me a disco ball. I'm shiny and perky and my nose is slightly too large for my face. I smile too wide for pictures and snort a little when I laugh.
The woman in the picture is none of those things. Well, sure, she looks tiny, dwarfed by Dominic. And yes, she's blonde, the perfect yin to his dark yang, but there's a depth to her eyes that doesn't belong on my face. My lips are parted and pulled up in this perfect little Mona Lisa smile as I study Dominic's profile. My eyes are lit with the power of deep thoughts and the possibility of intriguing personality.
"See?" he asks, so close that I can feel the warmth of his skin against my cheek even though we're not touching. The space between us so small that it almost doesn't exist. "Who's the interesting subject in this picture?"
I shake my head and drop the phone, careful to turn off the screen so I don't accidentally delete the picture. "Yeah, but that's no fair. You waited until I was distracted. In fact, you distracted me on purpose. And like you said, you're the professional here. You know how to make a blade of grass seem interesting."
"A blade of grass is interesting if you take the time to really look at it."
I slide my phone back into my pocket and shake my head. "Nope. You just destroyed your own argument with that nonsense. Don't get me wrong. It was all very poetic and lovely, but I'm a realist. You travel the world. I work at a bar in the same town I grew up in. One of these things is not like the other." I wander back around to my space behind the bar.
Dominic doesn't argue, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole way. And maybe, just maybe, I keep thinking about what he said and wondering if he really finds me as interesting as I find him.
And damn if I'm not busy mentally checking off my sisters' requirements. Sure, Dominic Kane has a few tattoos, and sure, I met him at The Bad Apple, and okay, he doesn't actually live around here so anything long-term is off the table.
But!
He has a great job. Travels the world and inspires people all over the internet. Surely Chelsea and Maya could forgive the tattoos and the place we met because he is so damn interesting and not at all at risk of being a serious relationship. Surely they would be cool with me spending more time with Dominic Kane, my most favorite Instagramer of all time. Right?
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