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DARE - A Rock Star Hero is LIVE!Read for FREE on Kindle Unlimited!
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ABOUT S.L. SCOTT Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She's obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she's a pro. AUTHOR LINKS Website:http://www.slscottauthor.com/ Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2TheScoop Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/s.l.scott/ Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/slscottpage Twitter:https://twitter.com/slscottauthor Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/Slscottauthor Amazon: http://bit.ly/SLScottAm Bookbub: http://bit.ly/SLBookbub Pinterest:http://pinterest.com/slscott1 S.L. Scott’s Facebook Reader Group:http://www.facebook.com/groups/slscottbooks S.L. Scott Goodreads Reader Group:http://bit.ly/SLScottGRGroup Book + Main Bites: https://bookandmainbites.com/slscott
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Taken by the Beast
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Google Play -- EXCERPT: I shook my head. I didn’t want to stay here, in some place where they spun tales tall enough to make your best friend sleep with a gun under her pillow. I didn’t want to be that person, not for anything. And something told me that if I stayed here long enough, I wouldn’t be able to help it. Hell, the Sears Catalog always needs models. I punched my pillow, trying not to think about this ridiculous place, about all it had seen me lose. “Idiots,” I muttered, climbing into bed. “They turn their town into a pressure cooker and then they make monsters out of thin—” A sudden howling cut off my words. Tensing, I threw off my covers and lurched for the window. The sound was nothing. A dog, or something. I would prove that to myself. I glared out into those goddamn woods. See, nothing. Absolutely-- A shadow moved between the trees, hulking and burly, but also tall. Too tall to be an animal. I blinked hard, once, and then again. When I looked back, there was nothing there. Stop it, Char. This place would drive me crazy if I let it. It was nothing. An animal. I got back in bed, trying to feel more New York and less New Haven. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t let go of the howl…or the markings…or the dead girl who looked just like me. 
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Shayn
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Midnight
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT:
Brandon sat down on one of the chairs. “Yeah. I mean I know he had to hide. I knew that going in. A lot of guys had to do that. Most of them figure it out. And I’m not mad at him or anything. I just want to move on.” He frowned. ”What are you trying to get at here, Greg? Why does Adrian have anything to do with tonight’s party?” Greg inclined his head down, toward the spot on the street that he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from. “Because he’s been here this whole time.” Brandon choked on his gin and tonic. “What?” “He’s been sitting outside the condo, watching the building, this whole time. I mean, I get it.” “I don’t!” Brendon declared, standing up again. He clutched his drink in his hand and couldn’t decide if he wanted to hurl it at the ex standing on the ground or if he wanted to go inside and hide. Throwing the glass would be wrong. It would be irresponsible; it would get people hurt. He didn’t want to hurt Adrian, even if this latest stunt was creepy and stalker-ish. “He’s the one who walked away. Why is he hanging around outside my building like some kind of lonely ghost?” “He wanted your attention. He didn’t know how to get it, and his ploy backfired spectacularly. I think he regrets what he did.” Greg sighed. “I’ve been watching him all night, trying to figure out what to do. I was thinking about bringing him in.” Brandon spun, bringing himself face to face with his best friend. “Why would you do that?” “Because you love him, Bran!” “So what? I’m moving on, trying to rebuild my life. Something you have not been shy about encouraging, I’ll point out. And you want to just… what, drag him back in here? What could that possibly accomplish?” He pulled at his hair. “I thought it might give you guys a second chance.” Now it was Greg’s turn to sit down, flopping into one of the other patio chairs like it was the only thing holding him up. “I want to see you happy, Bran. I keep hopping this fence – I know you weren’t with the people who made you happy, but you seemed so perfect for each other. And I desperately want you to be happy.” He sighed heavily, gesturing back in Adrian’s general direction. “But I didn’t do it. The guy’s in his thirties. If he wanted to come up he could ring the doorbell like an adult.” Brandon shook his head and rubbed Greg’s shoulders. “I knew I could trust you.” Greg leaned into the touch, just a little bit, and Brandon grinned. “I thought we established that Adrian can’t make me happy at this point. We’re not right for each other, even if we thought we were.” “I know. I just don’t know what to do here.” He leaned back. “I mean, this is kind of creepy. He’s just out there, watching. If I’m not going to invite him inside, I probably ought to call the cops.” Technically, Greg was right. Brandon probably ought to call the police, because no good ever came from one ex staking out the other’s home like this. “Do you think he’s dangerous?” Brandon hedged. “Seriously, has he said anything that’s struck you as dangerous?” “Other than creepily hanging around outside your house? Nah. Not that he’d say anything to me, you know?” Greg snorted. “I’m pretty much the last person he’s talking to right now, except maybe you.” “What do you mean?” Brandon’s arms froze on his friend’s shoulders. “He’s all pissy because I lit into him about stalking you through the rally.” Greg waved a calloused hand in dismissal. “Like okay, fine, he wants to be with someone new. Okay. And so what if the guy’s an undergrad – it’s a little weird, he’s a little young for a midlife crisis but who am I to judge? But that whole thing – like anyone didn’t know what he was up to.” He shook his head again, and Brandon could feel his shoulders tensing up again underneath his hands. “I wasn’t going to just sit there and not say anything.” Brandon let his hands fall. “Oh, Greg. I’m so sorry.” “What the hell for?” “I never wanted to come between the two of you. You’re friends. You should be doing friend things, not arguing over me.” He turned away, clutching at his drink so he could do something with his hands. 
GIVEAWAY!
New Adult Romance, Contemporary Romance
Published: July 30, 2019
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
TRUE HEARTS
What appealed most about The Letter Club was the anonymity and complete absence of social media BS. Giovanni Di Caro lives with enough scrutiny and family drama, he didn't need anymore, but he wanted someone he could talk to. Sure, his quad-mates in college are great, but there's a part of him he wanted to share without worrying about being judged. What he didn't expect was to fall for a woman whose letters became his anchor. Smart, funny, intuitive and sweet, somehow she understood him better than anyone else in his life. The problem? He doesn't know her name or where she lives. But he will, because over the past few months she had become his girl, and now he's ready to claim what's his.
EXCERPT FROM NOTHING ELSE BUT YOU
Mirabelle figured that dwelling on the school shooting and G’s aimlessness as a result thereof was a downer. She wanted to make him laugh and see the lighter side of life. God knew she spent countless hours working on that herself.
So, after typing out the letter and printing it in the computer lab – she did not have a computer at home and she would never use the one at work for personal stuff – she returned to the computer and went through the Sagawick Valley High School’s yearbooks for G’s sophomore year.
Unusual, and a bit daunting, there were eleven boys with G as their first name. And who knew if G was really a G. She wasn’t really Mirabelle, but she had become Mirabelle nine months ago when she’d fled home. It took a good chunk of her savings to buy a new driver’s license and social security card. Denny, the guy who sent her to the forger, was as stand-up as a mid-level street dealer could be, but in this case, he did her a solid. No, she didn’t do drugs, but she had lived in the same rat-hole boarding house in Portland as he did, and she cooked on her little camp stove, even though she wasn’t supposed to cook in her room. One night when she was making a stew, Denny had smelled the food, came a knocking, and begged a meal. Their sit-down dinners were a two to three time a week occurrence. Denny was a real quid pro quo kind of guy, so he did her a solid and sent her to a good forger who knew how to get her a valid social security number.
Which was how she was able to move to and settle in Fiddler’s Rest, population 2,036, the county seat of a sparsely populated area, a little east of the middle of the great state of Oregon. After having spent hours hunched over a computer in one of Portland’s public libraries, she’d found Fiddler’s Rest, saw they had a community college, and that there were enough stores in the area that she knew she’d find work. It was cheap to live there, far from almost everything and everybody, yet only miles from a main highway that cut across the state. Perfect camouflage and an easy escape route.
Taking it on faith that G was a G, she went through the yearbook assiduously. Eleven G guys, five of which were on sports teams. Mirabelle bet that G had become proficient enough to play a sport for an Ivy League school because he’d done it for years. Of the five sport Gs, George, football, Geoffery, tennis – natch with that spelling – Grant, basketball, Glen, baseball and Giovanni, lacrosse, Mirabelle had guessed that Glen was her G.
But she wasn’t certain.
Glenn Ryback was good-looking in a jock sort of way, but he didn’t exude Ivy League. He seemed more state school and chill. He didn’t have the intensity a student needed to crack the Ivy League safe. Geoffery Whitcomb was so white bread and Ivy League his photo screamed Skull and Bones, but he didn’t look like he had a sensitive bone in his body. Her G – yeah, she knew he wasn’t hers, but still – was a guy with a deep well of a soul or a supreme liar. Who was she to judge? She’d reinvented herself and fabricated a new identity. But… She hadn’t lied to him about anything except the initial of her first name. She was golden.
Grant Ascomb had the looks and the Ivy League aura, but while basketball could get physical, it wasn’t brutal, which is how her G described his sport. Which left George Brody, the linebacker, and Giovanni Di Caro, the lacrosse player. George wasn’t much to look at, but he fit the bill in the sports department. She couldn’t tell if he was Ivy League material. Maybe, but around the eyes he didn’t seem to have the smarts. There was nothing scientific about her deductions. Christ, these were yearbook photos that were nearly five years old. But, it was all she had.
Giovanni Di Caro was too gorgeous to be serious enough to even apply for college, never mind gain entrance to an Ivy League school. The lower classes’ photos were in black and white. Only the seniors’ photos were in color, and yet, Mirabelle knew Giovanni had bright blue eyes and jet-black hair. A dangerous combination in the you’re-too-handsome-to-be-real column, which was why she was sure he wasn’t her G. Anyone who looked that good and could drop panties for a living didn’t knuckle down and study like a demon. Sure, she was making broad generalizations, but she’d found, for the most part, they held water.
She looked at the time in the top corner of the computer screen, cursed, then erased her search history and powered off the computer. She was going to be late for her writing class. They were diagramming sentences, which sounded horrid, but she loved that shit.
About the Author
Elle Wright has been writing stories since she was a child, which led her to a career in journalism. She enjoys reporting life as much as making up a world she can control. She lives on the east coast of the United States where most of her large, noisy family resides. When she isn't in front of her computer, she loves to travel, garden, hang out with her dogs, and take in the brisk sea air that she's told is supposed to help calm her. She's been testing that theory for a while now.
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The Year I Left
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Sometime in the late summer when the air began to tingle and the leaves started to fall, I opened my eyes one morning and my view of the world had changed. Just like that. I can still see it in my head. The way I let it all unfold. It was a train wreck waiting to happen, and I let it. I left for a business trip that morning with my house in total disarray. I had no good reason for refusing to take Charlie to his school bus, and despite having some time to change our dog’s water bowl, I chose not to do it. There it lay, next to the unwashed food dish, crusted with the remains of last night’s dinner. I figured Jack would get home from the gym and handle it all. Piles of paper gathering dust on the floor and debit card receipts busting out of a little white box screamed for my attention. I ignored them. My home office, the place where I used to hide all day, was like a war zone. And it wasn’t like we had money issues. Paying our bills was the least of my worries. Jack had made a killing when his startup was bought out, and I was the head of client services at a global real-estate company. I just stopped giving a damn. Nothing interested me. I was beset by indifference. I just couldn’t keep up anymore. The sleepless nights, the exhaustion, the constant streaming in my head. Everything seemed so insignificant, so mundane. My successes, my accomplishments, they had lost all meaning. 
GIVEAWAY!
Non-Fiction
Date Published: Aug 7th 2019
Publisher : Phenomenal One Press
Homeschooling and Working While Shaping Amazing Learners is a nuts to bolts guide for working parents who want to groom exceptional learners through the flexibility of homeschooling. Learn to juggle working and homeschooling your kids while maintaining your sanity. Also, use aspects of homeschooling for after-schooling when traditional school isn’t working. Single parents are given options for executing homeschooling or after schooling methods that work in practical bits for the busy parent. Learn how to take your child from an average student to an exceptional student by exploring the possibilities shown in the section on acceleration of learning. From pre-K to Homeschooling College, open your eyes to the many options in flexibility this approach to learning can give. You can homeschool and work to shape amazing learners by exploring the possibilities.
Plus Kickstarting Homeschooling While Working Mini-Course
About the Author
LM Preston is an author, engineer, former college professor, and working mother who's been married for over twenty-five years. She homeschooled 3 of her 4 children from elementary school and beyond while she and her husband worked outside their home. Three of her kids graduated with degrees by the age of 17 years old.
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iTunes: Homeschooling and Working While Raising Amazing Learners
Healing Heather
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Accepting Erin
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- Get both for only 99¢ each for a limited time! -- Healing Heather Sneak Peek:
“That’s your truck?” I almost dropped my ice cream. My hot caramel, double scoop, butter pecan with whipped cream and two cherries sundae, to be precise. All over the front of Brian’s blue and white striped button-down shirt. After I had hung up on him, I couldn’t shake the image of the ice cream. The craving got too strong, and I had decided that spending my dinner calories on that outrageous sundae made perfect sense. A tiny voice in the back of my brain had whispered that I might be trying to run into someone—not naming any names, not pointing any fingers—accidentally on purpose. You’re not helping, I had whispered back to the voice, but hopped in Violet and hit the road rolling towards Bowdon anyway. Johnson’s was an old-fashioned soda fountain, and entering it was like stepping back fifty years in an instant. The fresh-faced teenage girl behind the counter wore a pink and white striped apron, and an exaggerated pink bow held back her blonde ponytail. Her hand-drawn name tag read Lizzie, with a tiny pink heart dotting each ‘i.’ When I had placed my order, she grinned. “One Sergeant’s Special, coming right up!” She had cheerfully gotten busy, scooping and topping like someone who had built that particular confection on more than one occasion. “The Sarge likes his with an extra cherry,” she held up the half-empty jar of maraschinos as evidence. “One or two for you?” “Two, of course,” I peered over the counter as she worked. “And maybe just a little more whipped cream?” As I emerged from the ice cream parlor with my enormous probably-better-than-sex sundae, the first thing I saw was a fully-restored classic pick up. Parked directly in front of Johnson’s, right next to Violet, it was a Dodge, 1951 or ’52, five-window. From the pristine condition of the Sea Mist Green paint to the spotless whitewall tires, I surmised that it still had the original straight-line 6-cylinder engine and three-speed transmission. Brian stepped wordlessly aside while I handed him my sundae and circled the truck, utterly transfixed. I may have been drooling just a little. Clicking the latch, I lifted the driver’s side bonnet—and gasped out loud. “Yeah,” he nodded over my shoulder, “it’s a 392 Hemi. Just like yours.” He grinned and started spooning my sundae into his mouth. “I bought her about eight years ago, and it took me six years to bring her back to life. I figured she deserved the Hemi.” He scooped another generous spoonful of my ice cream into his mouth and savored. “Dang, did Lizzie make this? Just gets better every time.” He handed me back the paper bowl and closed the truck bonnet. “Wanna go for a ride?” Did I ever. Girl Code or Common Sense 101 be damned, there was no way I was turning down a ride in that beauty-on-the-outside, beast-on-the-inside truck. Without a word, I climbed into the cab on the passenger side. The interior had been meticulously restored, and the tan leather bench seat had been customized with intricate stitching. He roared the engine to life, and my heart skipped a beat. In seconds, he had turned off the main highway, and we headed east an empty two-lane, windows rolled down and radio turned up. “So, if I remember correctly, this is the part of the country song where I kick my shoes off and put my pretty bare feet on the dash.” I smiled sweetly and licked the caramel from my spoon, a little more suggestively than was strictly necessary. Something about the rolled-up sleeves and half-unbuttoned casual shirt he wore over a plain white tee spoke to me on an almost cellular level, triggering a sensual response I couldn’t really control. I took another bite, swirling my tongue through whipped cream with an exaggerated innocence. “Followed by the verse where I kick you out of my truck for spilling ice cream all over the leather,” he looked meaningfully at the paper bowl and its rapidly melting contents. The molten caramel and the summer heat had conspired, almost liquefying the butter pecan. “Sorry,” I said meekly, sitting up straighter and corralling my wayward thoughts. “I won’t spill, I promise. But you may have to help me finish this, it’s a double.” “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He kept his left hand on the wheel, and while I held the bowl, tried unsuccessfully with his right to secure a spoonful. “I’m a lefty. Help me out here?” I slid over a bit closer and held the sundae-loaded spoon to his lips. Without taking his eyes from the road, he took the bite with obvious relish. I repeated the process, then helped myself to a spoonful. Sharing the single spoon felt intimate and little romantic. We drove in comfortable silence. Neither one of us mentioned our recent conversation, and it didn’t feel necessary to bring it up. The road wound through the silent forest, then suddenly opened up with hay fields and horse pasture on either side of the road. Three horses glanced up briefly, then resumed their leisurely grazing. A white farmhouse stood about a hundred yards from the road, flanked by a tidy barn and a stable. I imagined a young family: a father leading his young daughter on the back of a pony; a mother laughing and pushing a baby boy on a tree swing. “Can I tell you something?” he asked suddenly, startling me from my reverie. “I just don’t want you to misunderstand.” “Of course you can,” I replied, curious. “But don’t feel like you need to explain anything to me. I don’t want you to think I…” I trailed off, not knowing exactly how to finish my thought. “Think you what? Judge me? Pity me?” He slowed the truck, pulling over on the shoulder, and turned to face me. “I don’t think you would do either. But let’s just set the record perfectly straight. Yeah, I had a relationship with Amanda. It was a lot of years, a lot of chaos, a lot of pain, and now it’s over. It’s been over for a long time.” “Okay…” I exhaled. “She made me think you were still seeing each other pretty exclusively. I didn’t—I don’t—want to be in the middle of anything.” “You aren’t. You couldn’t be. There’s nothing to be in the middle of.” His green eyes still showed pain, though. I reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The pain in his eyes gave way to something that looked like optimism. Or maybe hope. Either one was fine by me. “Well then. That’s resolved. I’m sorry I was rude this afternoon, it was uncalled for.” I smiled an apology. “So, Sergeant SeaMist, is this a ’51 or a ’52?”
GIVEAWAY!
MaisieThe Bridal Train Series by Emberly Hart Publication Date: August 12, 2019 Genres: Adult, Historical, Western, Romance
Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: Amazon | Start the Series Maisie thinks of herself as a tough, resourceful woman, and that’s about to be put to the test. After leaving her abusive husband and making off with all the cash she can carry, her only goal is to stay out of sight and survive. Then she learns her husband is six feet under. She should be able to relax, only she fears she will be blamed for his murder. So she hops a train and finds herself as a Bridal Train Bride. Henry Cartwright loves tending the land, growing crops and raising animals for market, though it’s a lonely life. When his family urges him to take a wife, he can’t think of anything he has to offer a female besides hard work, but he settles on a Bridal Train Bride. Maisie is soft-spoken and reserved, leaving Henry thinking of her as a frightened animal, and he longs to set her at ease. With newfound freedom and peace in her heart at long last, Maisie begins to wonder if she was wrong about all men being the same. Maybe this one deserves a chance—and a bit of the kindness he doles out to her so easily. When problems arise on the farm, they’re forced to work together and fight for the life they share. It just might be time for Maisie to dig up that satchel full of money she buried out back.About Emberly HartEmberly Hart has been in love with characters from the rough and tumble West since the moment she picked up her first romance novel. Her historical heroines are smart and sassy in a time when women were expected to use their sewing skills rather than their wits, and her dashing heroes are the stuff romances are made of. Emberly will bring you sweeter, tamer tales from times past along with the gripping characters you will fall for. Look for her at emberlyhart.com.Website | Newsletter | Facebook | Amazon 
Title: Love's Hot
Series: Time for Love #5
Author: Karen Deen
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 11, 2019
Blurb
KANE
She wants to be my buddy.
You know, the naked type—no strings attached, no awkwardness.
Friends who are lovers but with no relationship hassles.
To a man who has nothing to offer a woman except pleasure, it’s an offer too good to refuse
Days of laughter and nights full of hot searing passion.
It can’t last. I need it to end, my life depends on our demise.
But I miss her clothes on my bedroom floor.
As she looks up at me from her knees, my heart … the distraction … I just can’t.
She’s here in front of me, so how do I keep her safe?
LILLY
Holy hotness!
It’s a crime to be that good-looking, surely. It’s not just looks, I’m certain.
His skills in the bedroom keep me awake dreaming of more.
I don’t want to be attached, but I’m not ready to let him go. I come up with the perfect plan.
Friends with benefits, an arrangement with rules.
F… buddies—his name and his rules. A name he takes seriously and lives up to.
I’ve never known life to be this good but just as I fall under his spell, he’s gone.
The rules say I should too. But I won’t because his love is worth fighting for.
I’m about to make him see that too
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99c for a VERY limited time!
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Author Bio
Karen Deen has been a lover of romance novels and happily-ever-after stories for as long as she can remember. Reaching a point in her life ready to explore her own dreams, Karen decided now was the time to finally write some of her own stories. For years, all of her characters have been forming story lines in her head, just waiting for the right time to bust free.
Sitting up in the early hours of the morning with her cups of tea, chocolate and music she gets lost in a world of sexy, alpha men who are challenged by some funny, sassy and strong-willed women. Bringing you unexpected laughs, suspense and a little bit of naughty. Karen is married to her loving husband and high school sweetheart. Together, they live the crazy life of parents to three children. She is balancing her life between a career as an accountant by day and writer of romance novels by night. Living in a beautiful coastal town two hours south of Sydney, Australia, Karen loves to enjoy time with her family and friends in her beautiful surroundings. Of course, when she is not shut in her writing cave bringing you more words to devour.
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