Mismatch by Nana Malone -- Spotlight

This post is part of a tour sponsored by Sizzing PR. 

Spunky artist manager, Jessica Stanton, isn’t looking for love.  She’s looking for a savior.  When a business rival steals yet another of her rising stars, she’s in danger of losing everything she’s worked so hard for…and the only person who can save her fledgling business is the one man she shouldn’t want. Art authenticator, Eli Marks, doesn’t have time for love. He’s too busy saving his brother from the demons of his drug addicted past.  For the past ten years he’s cultivated a façade to keep his distance from everyone else.  But when a string of high-profile art forgeries threatens the security of the only family he has left, he must turn for help to a woman who breaks through his carefully constructed façade every time she’s near. Will Jessica and Eli save each other? Or will secrets and lies stop them from finding true love?

Enjoy an excerpt:

Jessica shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the strange man’s jade green gaze. Tsk Tsk Jessica, you’re just horny from watching sex d'art. Poindexter isn't even my type. At least that’s what she told herself. But she was powerless to tear her gaze away from his. With dark hair to contrast the jade green eyes, and an angled jaw to make male models jealous, he was handsome enough to draw any woman's attention.

But he wasn’t her style at all. From the looks of him, he was way too buttoned up. His suit, though exquisitely tailored, was extremely conservative. Same for his shoes—expensive but bland. He screamed, I’m repressed. Except for his hair. Touching his collar and curling at the ends, it was the only non-conservative part about him. She preferred tattooed, too-skinny guitarist types. She was willing to bet Poindexter didn’t have a tat anywhere.

All her misgivings aside, she couldn't tear her gaze from his as she pushed her way toward the bar. He looked like an accountant. No, strike that, too polished. Like a Wall Street type, except he didn't have the air of smarm. Maybe it was his too-direct gaze. There was nothing hidden in his eyes. Just interest and lust. And it made the hairs on her arms stand up. God, what was he doing staring at her? The uptight type generally preferred too-thin models with no hips. Oh, and normal. They veered away from alternative types.

As Jessica pushed through the crowd, his gaze followed as if he were silently drawing her to him, willing her to come to him. The way he insolently leaned against the bar made him even more appealing. When he said something to the bartender, she glanced at his companion. Also handsome, darker, more olive-toned skin, bulkier, too.

The green-eyed devil had the build of someone who worked out for the pure purpose of staying in shape, not to bulk up.

Jessica dragged in a breath to calm her racing heartbeat. She wasn't here for this. She was here for Samson Marks. Unfortunately, so was every other woman in the room. Some men, too. With everyone who wanted to talk to him, she’d already been waiting forty-five minutes, and she wasn’t interested in waiting any longer. She’d just leave her card with Gabe and try and track him down if he didn't call by Monday. She wasn’t letting this guy get away from her. If he could whip her into a sexual frenzy, he had something special.

When she momentarily lost sight of Poindexter, Jessica felt more like herself and less like a throbbing, heaving-bosomed mess. What the hell was wrong with her?

She finally made it to the end of the bar and made eye contact with the bartender. Over by the other end, she caught sight of her mystery man. She might be here to work, but what would it hurt to play a little? It had been a while. Okay, longer than a while considering the last two guys she'd dated she hadn’t even bothered sleeping with.

“What can I get you?”

“Are you Gabe?”

He grinned. “You want to bid on the piece sight unseen?”

She grinned back. “Nope.”

He frowned. “You here to tell me I got a kid out there or something? 'Cause I’m not particularly interested in hearing that.”

“That happen to you a lot?”

“You’d be surprised.”

She laughed. “Tonight’s your lucky night. I’m not here for that either. I need to get a message to Samson Marks.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows and nodded as if this wasn’t the first request of this type he'd had tonight. “Yeah, what’s the message?”

She handed over her card with a note scrawled on the back. “I'm a manager. Tell him to call me.” She shrugged and glanced at Poindexter again. “You can tell him he's safe from me. I have something else entirely planned for tonight.”

Moving away from the end of the bar, Jessica spotted the guy in the suit again and made her approach. “So are you going to stare all night, or were you ever going to come and talk to me?”

His lips twitched as he met her gaze. “Excuse me?”

Jessica raised a brow. “'Cause I gotta tell you, if you weren't so good looking, it would be borderline creepy.”

Poindexter barked a laugh. “Only borderline creepy?”

She shrugged as her eyes met his. “This is L.A. after all. There’s a whole different definition of creepy.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Do you always say what's on your mind?”

“I know it's a little odd for L.A., right? But I find it cuts through the bullshit.”She looked around. “Is that your friend?” She nodded in Mr. Italian Stallion wannabe’s direction. His bulky build and darker skin, combined with the gel he wore in his hair gave him a Jersey Shore effect.

The beefy guy grinned and his face transformed, making him look like a schoolboy with his first crush.

“I’m his only friend.”

“Well hello, friend.”

Friend smiled at her and said, “Hello, gorgeous. You going to cheer my friend up here? He’s in a bit of a mood.”

This was fun. Go figure. Since Ryan’s call, she’d been in freak out mode. This felt easy and natural. “Now why are you in a mood? There are a dozen women that are throwing you hungry eyes right now.”

He blinked as if her candor surprised him. “Too bad for them. I’m otherwise engaged.”

“Lucky bitch.”She grinned. “I’m appointing myself as your cheer up committee for the rest of the evening.”

There it was again. The corners of his lips twitched. If just a partial smile was enough to tantalize her, then what would it look like when this guy really grinned? Jessica pictured panties dropping in neighboring cities.

“What, you mean to tell me you don’t have any friends here ready to rescue you from the creepy, staring guy?” His tone was teasing.

“I prefer to rescue myself.”

This time he did grin. And holy fuck, what a smile. Straight, even teeth. Eyes crinkling at the corners. Her own panties, if she’d been wearing any, would have started migrating south.

“You really will say anything, won’t you?”

So this was what flirting felt like; it had been so long since she’d bothered. Man, she missed it. Nothing like flirting to heighten the anticipation. “You never did answer my question.”

“What question was that?”

“Whether or not you were going to work up the courage to talk to me.”

He chuckled. “I was working my way up to it, but I figured you might be trouble.”

“You were right about that. Lucky for you, I believe in taking matters into my own hands. Now, do I have to lead too, or can you dance?”she asked as she tugged him to his feet. Music thrummed and vibrated through Jessica's entire body. His big, warm hand wrapped around hers, and she shivered in anticipation.

This was something she could hold onto. Something she could use to drum out the annoyance at her mother, the insecurities of her job. The loneliness over losing Izzy. All of it. She could use the anonymity on the dance floor to combat the feelings she wasn’t ready to confront.

Bodies of other dancers jostled her until she found a spot with enough space. Her partner looked unsure. She leaned in to make sure he heard her. “Relax, forget about them. All you need to do is concentrate on me.”

His intense green eyes focused on hers, and in a second of irrationality, she wanted to shrink from the feeling of intimacy. She didn’t even know his name, but felt like he could see deep inside her.

“Am I going to get a name out of you?” As he leaned in, his breath warmed her, and his stubble chin rubbed against her temple.

She shivered. “Giving you my name would only ruin the spell.” And while he didn’t look the type, he was still club crawling in L.A... He wasn’t likely to give his real name anyway, so why pretend?

His lips twitched in that sexy way that made her stomach flip.

God, being that handsome should be a sin. Jessica studied him, confused about her reaction to him. Buttoned-up was so not her thing. She preferred tats and piercings and some good old-fashioned hair dye. But this guy set all her receptors to come and get some. Worse, something about him made her want to spill her darkest secrets.

“And if I want to call you tomorrow?”

She shrugged, even as his large hand landed on her waist, drawing her hips into his. “That’s the thing about cheer up committees. You don’t want to overuse them. It affects their potency.”

His eyes traveled her body and heat flushed her whole body. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Jessica met his eyes again. Once more, electricity crackled between them, and again she shut down the connection by turning in his arms to dance. The DJ changed tracks to the latest bass-pumping song by a female rapper, and Jessica let her partner meld their bodies together, enjoying the feel of him around her. For a moment, she let herself relax and enjoy the music.

When he gently turned her to face him, she tried to resist, but then he smiled.

They were jostled again, and he took her hand to lead her through the throngs into the back lounge area. The bouncer at the door greeted him like an old friend and said something she couldn’t decipher. When they were let into the closed lounge area, the door shut, silencing the din from the club.

“What did you say to the bouncer to get us back here?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” He smiled again, and Jessica forgot her own name. “Besides, I wanted to be able to hear you. It was a little crazy out there. If you're going to be my personal cheer up committee, I'd rather it be quiet.”

Jessica chewed on her top lip and averted her gaze. He might look like Poindexter, but his thought process was right up her alley. “I couldn't have said it better myself.”

“I prefer it when I can see your eyes.”

She tried to avoid his gaze and swallowed around the lump in her throat. Intimacy was not on the menu tonight, at least not the emotional kind. If he kept insisting on seeing her and talking to her, he’d ruin her about-to-have-anonymous-sex buzz. And he was replacing it with something else that felt like nerves.

She searched through her cache of awesome one-liners for a flippant quip but couldn’t think of one. The slow caress of his fingers at her lower back robbed her of the ability to think properly. Her instincts told her to bolt. Get out before he saw too much. Before he got a gander at her soul. Before he had the chance to run first.

She cleared her throat and made an effort to disengage. But he held her still. “You can run if you want to, but I have a feeling you want to find out if what you’re feeling is as combustible as you think it'll be.”

“I—” She froze when his head dipped down to hers. Even though her brain gave the command to bolt, her body rooted itself in his arms. His body heat wrapped around her like flames. His scent mingled with hers, and the combination of citrusy musk, spice, and flowers made a potent combination. She swayed into him, and she sensed his smile of triumph. Before his lips met hers, one of his big hands scooted to the top of her ass and tucked her body flush against his. She gasped as she felt the full length of his arousal throbbing and pulsing against her belly.

On the parting of her lips, his mouth covered hers.

BUY LINKS:

AMAZON US, AMAZON UK, AMAZON CA, NOOK, ITUNES, KOBO,SMASHWORDS, ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS

Other titles by Nana Malone:

Reluctant Protector, Available now on Kindle Nook Kobo All Romance eBooks iTunes & Audible
Forsaken Protector, Available now on Kindle Nook Kobo All Romance eBooks

Game, Set, Match, Available now from Kindle  Nook Kobo All Romance eBooks & iTunes
Sexy in Stilettos Available now on Kindle Nook Kobo All Romance eBooks & iTunes

About the Author:  USA Today Best Seller and iTunes Breakout Books author, Nana Malone's love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she borrowed from her cousin.

It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She's been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters.

While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.

Website Facebook Twitter

Into the Web by Shonell Bacon - Virtual Tour and Giveaway

We're welcoming author Shonell Bacon on her tour with Sizzling PR today. She's here to talk about her mystery novel, Into the Web and has been generous enough to offer a PDF copy of the book as a giveaway to one person who comments!  The drawing is open through next Thursday, 7/6/12, so leave a comment to be entered.

The minute twins and mystery novelists Jovan and Cheyenne Parham find their lives settling into a nice rhythm, all hell breaks loose – in their personal lives and in the latest crime they find themselves mixed up in. Jo is trying to build a relationship with Mark Brockman, but the deaths of her husband and Mark’s wife, and the sordid nature of their coming together keeps her from jumping into the relationship with both feet. Cheyenne is head over heels in love with former detective-now P.I. Ian Davenport, but unexpected news and Ian’s involvement in a new case causes Chey to second guess the deepness of their love. Trying to figure out their love lives becomes all the more complicated when Jo and Chey are thrust into a series of kidnappings and murders involving young girls who seem to make the wrong friends online. When a mayoral candidate’s daughter is kidnapped, Ian finds himself on the case, much to the chagrin of Chey considering he spends an awful lot of time holding and caring for the candidate’s wife. Bringing the girl home safely and finding the killer pushes the twins to the limits of their personal and professional lives. Going into a web of infidelity, lies, deception, and murder often leaves all involved in disarray. Will Jovan and Cheyenne find themselves, once again, trying to pick up the remaining fragments of their lives once this is all over?

October 21

Take down.

Those words rang in Jovan Parham’s mind as she danced around the ring, staring into the eyes of Derryck, her kickboxing trainer.

“Come on, Jo,” Derryck said while holding up his padded hands. “Pay attention. Jab left, cross right, jab right.”

“I’m doing it,” she said, her voice nearing a whine.

“You look lazy.” Derryck’s left hand made its way to Jovan’s headgear. She just managed to move, but heard the sound of his fist whizzing by her face. “I haven’t tagged your face in nearly four months.”

Jovan smiled and took two jabs to the side of Derryck’s face; the second one connected.

“And you didn’t get me this time either,” she replied.

The two continued to spar, sharing words and punches and kicks, but Jovan’s mind was still stuck on two words: take down.

She woke up in the middle of the night after a horrific nightmare, one she had almost every month since she moved into her new condo a year ago. The nightmare was always the same: she watching as a host of characters took part in killing her. She lay, shackled to a metal table, dressed in a white loose gown that had been ripped to shreds. Every few minutes, someone would come into the dimly lit room and cut her with a sharp, curved blade. No words were ever exchanged. She screamed with each flick of the blade, begged for her life, but it was all for naught. Cordell came in and took a chunk of her. As did his mother. As did his brother. Alisha took her share as well, as did Sarah, which broke Jovan’s heart more than Cordell wanting to kill her. She had thought Sarah was her best friend. Finding out she had slept with Cordell and carried his child tore at her heart. To know that even in her nightmares Sarah wanted to hurt her more nearly broke her.

The last person to come in was always Linda Hayes. And unlike the others, who were more like automatons, coming to do their robotic bidding, Linda had a sparkle in her eyes, a curl of her lip, an extra dig of her cut when she took her swipe of Jovan. She had hoped that her time at the altar during service that morning, where she begged God, begged him to remove the nightmares, might give her a night of respite, but it wasn’t to be. If she actually took time to think about it, she’d realize that her continuous thinking about the nightmares would only create more of them.

When she woke up last night from the nightmare, Jovan rushed to her office—a place that held warm, soft thoughts for her as it was the place where words took to life. She reached for the small blue bible she kept on the desk and rifled through the pages before landing her finger on Luke 10:19, I have given you authority …to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.

The words brought her peace, but she had an even better way of using her authority to overcome her enemies. She took out a pad and pen, and spent a good hour creating a list of people she needed to take down.

Linda Hayes was at the top of that list. For going on two years, the Trés Chic head reporter-now executive producer had been relentless in her pursuit to find something bad to report about Jovan. Even after everyone else had put the murder of Jovan’s husband and the fallout of it behind them, Linda was determined to continue to bring up Jovan’s painful story: Cordell’s murder. Cordell’s affair with Alisha. Cordell’s affair with Sarah. The baby Sarah carried. The complex scheming and plotting that revealed Cordell’s drugged-out brother was supposed to kill Jovan but instead killed Cordell. Jovan’s reaching out to Mark, Sarah’s husband, in a time of need and the subsequent relationship that continued long after Cordell was buried. The justice (though not peace) that was brought to Jovan and her family.

In all parts of the world, Jovan’s soap opera of a life had come and gone as new, crazier stories unfolded. But in Baltimore, where she and her twin Cheyenne were deemed stars for their bestselling-authors status and their charities, Jovan’s story continued to live—mostly thanks to Linda Hayes.

And somehow, she had managed to overcome her anger at Linda and this ferocious, tenacious need Linda had to break her down.

But then yesterday arrived, and Jovan became undone.

She had tried to go about her day. She went to a speaking engagement for her solo inspirational non-fiction, Picking up the Pieces, a book that detailed the story of her life with Cordell and the aftermath. She met with Cheyenne to work on the outline of their next mystery, Vanishing Keys. She even got ready to meet Mark for a dinner date down at the Inner Harbor. Not once did anyone in her inner circle mention the significance of the day: the second anniversary of Cordell’s death. They knew it wasn’t needed. They knew Jovan would have stayed up the entire night prior, still crying over the loss, still angry over the betrayal, still unsteady on what to do with her life. She was still fragile from the coming and going of Cordell’s birthday nearly three weeks ago. She had spent that day in quiet reflection, wondering why, yet again, she couldn’t find out about Cordell’s lies before anyone had to die. She still felt like an idiot over believing Sarah was her friend. She had spent hours talking to Sarah, telling her about the decline in her marriage—never realizing that her supposed friend was sleeping with her husband.

Any normal person, knowing what she’d been through, would have given Jovan this day to grieve, to feel, to think in her own personal space.

But not Linda Hayes.

Jovan had expected to hear from her. After all, she saw commercials regarding Linda’s anniversary special. Linda had her assistant call her earlier in the month, trying to get her to talk about Cordell on the day of his birthday. Jovan had told her to “Go read Picking up the Pieces if you’re so damn interested in learning what I’m willing to say about Cordell. Other than that, leave me the hell alone, Miss Hayes.”

It was only a matter of time that Linda would call her again, trying to get some comment to use for her latest special.

Linda’s assistant called. Six, seven, eight times. Every time, Jovan would hang up.

On the ninth time, as she slipped her feet into her black stilettos, Jovan finally relented.

She picked up the phone and yelled, “Let me speak to Linda.” She quickly raced into the office and picked up her digital recorder, turning it on and setting her phone on speakerphone. Linda came on to the phone, her voice warm and soft as she said, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Jovan.”

“If you’re so sorry, why are you harassing me? Obviously, I have nothing to say to you.”

Shonell Bacon is an author, doctoral candidate, editor, educator–everywoman. She has published both creatively and academically–novels, short stories, essays, and textbooks.

She has had an essay of hers developed as part of a live theatre documentary production. In addition to her love of writing and what the future holds in her literary life, she is also an editor who loves helping writers hone their literary craft. Since 2001, she has edited for hundreds of writers who have gone on to pursue self-publishing careers and have been published within the traditional publishing arena. Her love for helping writers also moved her to begin writing articles and commentaries regarding the writing life and craft, and she publishes these articles on various websites. She is an educator, having taught English and mass communication courses in addition to fiction writing and other courses related to creative writing. And while taking part in all of those things, Shonell also finds the time to pursue her Ph.D. in Technical Communication and Rhetoric at Texas Tech University. Now a doctoral candidate, she is conducting research and writing her dissertation.

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Blog

Virtual Book Spotlight: City of the Gods: The Descendant by S. J. McMillan

Welcome to author S. J. McMillan, here on tour with Sizzling PR with her urban fantasy, "City of the Gods: The Descendant".

700 A.D. Teotihuacan, Mexico – The High Priest believed himself to be as powerful as the Gods and set a plague on the city as a demonstration of his power. The Gods took pity on the few remaining survivors and granted each immortality and an extraordinary ability. Three of these survivors were given a mission of great importance: train the lone human descendant of their civilization to stop the evil priest from damning the rest of humanity.

2012 A.D. San Diego, California – The time has come to make Katalina Deckard aware of her destiny. Her life has been a constant struggle since the loss of her parents when she was young, but has it prepared her to save the world? Can her friends, who have survived so long ,convince her she has what it takes to accept the mantle of Redeemer?

I am an author signed on with Ruby Lioness Press. I am beyond excited that my urban fantasy novel, City of the Gods: The Descendant, has finally found a home.

I play many roles in life, as we all do. I am a wife to a supportive husband, a mother to three young rascals, and an administrative assistant during the week just to name a few. Now I will finally get to add published author to my list.

I started writing poetry in high school. I enjoy poetry and still write a poem whenever inspiration hits me. I love to read, especially paranormal romances and urban fantasies. The love of reading spawned the urge to try writing a novel of my own.

One of my favorite parts of writing a book is creating the characters. I immerse myself into their lives. I laugh when they laugh and cry when they cry. I cheer them on in their triumphs and encourage them in their struggles.

I have also come to enjoy writing fight scenes. Don’t laugh, but my husband (the wonderful man that he is) will act them out with me so I know exactly how I need to show it to the audience. Call us crazy if you want but it is really fun to act out a scene using a broom handle as a spear and a foam baseball bat as an axe.

I hope you enjoy City of the Gods: The Descendant. I am working on the follow up book now. I love to hear from other authors and readers.

You can find me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/McMillanSJ , on Twitter at www.twitter.com/McMillanSJ , or check out my awesome new website at http://www.mcmillansj.com/ .