Tour Stop: A Sunrise in Rio by Rachel Matthews

 

 

A cold playboy in need of a fiancee.

A sweet photographer in need of a job.

A proposal that would last a lifetime.

A Sunrise in Rio

by Rachel Matthews

Genre: Cozy Fake Dating Vacation Romance 

A cold playboy in need of a fiancee.

A sweet photographer in need of a job.

A proposal that would last a lifetime.

Eric Jansen was aware of his reputation. As a stoic widower with a mysterious past, work was his only solace...until his investors threaten to end the deal. With a new luxury hotel and housing development for underprivileged families on the line in scenic Rio de Janeiro, the beautiful new photographer, Jayla Mitchelson, is perfect for the job. She may also be the perfect woman to claim his heart.

 

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    Jayla stared at him, stunned. “Did you just say fiancée? As in…engaged?” The word echoed in her mind, making her frown as if she hadn’t heard it right. “I thought you needed a date.” 

Eric slipped a hand into his pocket. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. Our potential investor values traditional family structures. He believes an engagement would, let’s say, enhance our credibility.”

Jayla’s shock turned into something sharper. Oh, so her photography skills didn’t matter? Was she just supposed to play dress-up and pretend to be in love with Mr. Perfect? “You can’t be serious.”

Eric watched her pace. “It would help me greatly.”

“For your little charade?” Jayla’s voice grew louder. “Is that why you hired me? To be nothing more than your arm candy?”

Eric closed his eyes a moment before he shook his head. “No, Jayla, it’s not like that.”

She stopped pacing, arms crossed. “Then why bring me down here? Why go through this phony interview process, checking out my site and bringing me–” She gasped. “Is that why you took me to breakfast? The sightseeing? Was that part of softening me up?”

“Jayla—”

She glanced back at the huge building. “If I say no, are you going to, what, chop me up and hide me in the building?” She began rummaging through her camera bag. “Look, buddy. I got Mace, and I will not hesitate to use it. I don’t care how many yachts you own.”

Eric froze mid-step toward her, then covered his mouth. His shoulders started shaking, and before Jayla could react, he doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.

“What—” Jayla’s indignation mixed with confusion. “What is so funny?”

He couldn’t even answer, leaning against a nearby lamppost for support as he laughed.

Jayla watched him, arms crossed, trying to maintain her anger. 

But as Eric continued laughing with his eyes sparkling with tears, something shifted inside her. This wasn’t the composed CEO showing off his engaging smile. This was just Eric. Just a man finding genuine humor in her conspiracy theory.

“Oh, Jayla.” He finally managed to stop laughing, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry, but that was not the reaction I was expecting.”

She raised her hands, still stunned. “Well, what exactly were you expecting, Eric? You bring me out here, make this grand gesture, and then—”

“It sounds insane, I know,” he interrupted. “But hear me out. This deal is critical to my company. And I need someone who isn’t part of the usual circle, someone who won’t leak it to the press or get too involved. Someone I can trust to keep their distance while we manage these investors.” He watched her for a moment. “And when it’s done, we go our separate ways. But in the meantime,” his tone shifted slightly, “since we’ll be working together for the next few months, why not...”

He let the sentence linger.

“I’ll pay you twenty-five thousand dollars per workday. Seem reasonable?”

Her mouth fell open. Had she heard him right? Twenty-five thousand per day?

“Eric, I—”

“Think about it,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “Don’t answer yet. Sleep on it. I know it’s a lot to process, but honestly, Jayla, it would mean a great deal to me… to us both. We wouldn’t have to see each other outside of a set plan, anyway. The meetings, the photo opportunities, that’s it. Your time is your own.”

Jayla nodded slowly. She didn’t even want to think of what Donna would say if she mentioned this. It sounded crazy. And the crazier fact was… she started considering it.

“I’ll think about it.”

Author of clean, cozy reads about love and romance, Rachel Matthews is a wife, daughter, crocheter, artist, and dreamer all rolled into one. She's dreamed of writing ever since she was little and now enjoys penning them for readers all around the world. Part mermaid and part stuffed animal wrangler, she currently lives in San Diego where she is fighting an addiction to the beach while enjoying free time with her own romantic hero husband.

 

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Tour Stop: Last Bite by Amy S. Peele

 

 

A mouth-watering home run of a beach read where a newly widowed woman finds second chances through a funeral catering business and the magic of Chicago baseball.

Last Bite

by Amy S. Peele

Genre: Cozy Mystery

A mouth-watering home run of a beach read, this lighthearted romantic comedy featuring a newly widowed fortysomething takes the reader on a joyful romp through-out some of Chicago’s finest eateries—with a dash of Cubs baseball on the side.

In the heart of Chicago, forty-five-year-old Angie Sortino finds herself at a crossroads. Recently widowed, she discovers that her deceased husband, Vinnie, has left her penniless. Until his City pension can be cleared up, she’s on her own.

Angie has just taken a job at Chicago City Hall as a cleaning woman when her spirited twenty-two-year-old niece, Gina, and Gina’s best friend, Kim, approach her with the idea of starting a catering company targeting funeral parlors. Seeing a chance to reawaken her own culinary aspirations, Angie gets on board. As the three women embark on this new venture, they face the challenges of the catering business, from securing clients to perfecting their menu. Angie and Gina’s love for the Chicago Cubs adds a playful twist to their journey; they often find inspiration in the vibrant atmosphere of Wrigley Field. Gina’s youthful enthusiasm, meanwhile, contrasts with Angie’s cautious nature, leading to hilarious mishaps, unexpected romantic encounters, and heartfelt moments.

Through late-night brainstorming sessions and spontaneous cooking experiments, Angie begins to find her voice, both in the kitchen and in her life—and ultimately, with the support of a respected funeral director, Gina and Kim, and an unexpected new love interest, she learns to embrace her worth and pursue happiness.

 

"Last Bite is a deliciously layered novel that mixes humor, heart, and mystery in equal measure." —Chicago Book Review

 

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              The Cubs Boys approached her and offered their condolences one by one, giving her the big bear hugs she had become accustomed to from Vinnie and his buddies. They all smelled like sausage and beer. Clearly, they had stopped at some local tavern beforehand, as was the custom, Vinnie had shared with her, when his buddies attended funerals.

Angie continued to greet each well-meaning guest, some offering their deepest condolences; others she needed to console.

A handsome man in a dark blue tailored suit approached her. He put his hand out and she reciprocated, and he gently cupped both Angie’s hands in his large hands. “Hello, Angie, you may not remember me; we only met briefly a few times. I went to high school with Vinnie. We lost touch and then reconnected years ago. He and I would ditch classes and go to the afternoon Cubs games. My name is Ralph Conti.” His soft smile revealed perfect white teeth, dimples, and kindness.

Angie felt his soft hands and glanced down at his manicured nails, which looked familiar, and no wedding band. She inhaled deeply and detected a hint of the perfume from the bathroom. “So nice to see you, Ralph. Thank you for coming. I believe you’re the one who gave Vinnie the Cubs World Series ring.”

“Indeed, I did. It was the least I could do. Vinnie was a very generous business partner; we collaborated on many city projects. He spoke so highly of you. The picture he showed me didn’t do you justice; you’re a very elegant and beautiful woman. You reminded me of my own wife who I lost to cancer two years ago.

I’m so sorry for your loss. I know how hard it is.”

Angie gazed into his rich brown eyes and let out an audible sigh. He smiled at her. “I’m sorry for your loss too, Ralph.”

“Here’s my card. When things slow down, please do call me. We can meet for a cup of coffee or lunch and share Vinnie stories.”

She took his card and put it in her pocketbook. “Thanks, Ralph. I’d like that.” Angie noticed that Mario was glaring at her and Ralph from across the room.

After Ralph took his leave and walked toward the door, Angie watched to see if a woman followed, but saw no one.

The crowd continued to thin until it was just Connie, Gina, Kim, and Louie. Angie collapsed in the high-back chair, took her sensible pumps off, and put her feet on the ottoman. “I can’t think, everything is happening so fast. This is the weirdest funeral I’ve ever been at.”

“I must say it ranks right up there for me too,” Louie commented.

Gina handed Angie a glass of water. “Here you go, Aunt Angie. You need to remember to drink a lot of water; these types of events can dehydrate the best of us.”

Kim set a pitcher of water on the table next to her. “Here’s some more when you need it.”

“You’re so thoughtful, Kim, such a help,” Angie remarked.

“I’m going to go finish cleaning up. Let me know if you need anything else.” Kim walked toward the kitchen.

“What a nice friend you have, Gina,” Angie commented.

“I couldn’t have done any of this without her,” Gina shared. Angie looked around to confirm it was just her, Gina, and Connie, who was sitting in the companion high-back chair next to Angie. “You are not going to believe what happened to me in the bathroom earlier.” Angie explained the brief sex interlude, and all three of them laughed.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Connie, who had been single a long time, declared.

“I don’t know who the woman was, but the man was Ralph, that fancy pants fella.”

“Sex at a funeral parlor—ew.” Gina winced. “Who does that?”

Connie smiled. “You’d be surprised. I noticed that guy right away. Looked like he stepped out of GQ. That is one yummy-looking fella; if I were younger, thinner, and more flexible,that guy would be mine.”

“Mom!” Gina yelped. They all laughed.

“When you’re ready, Angie, we’ll head over to Murphy’s Bleachers for a little reception, then you can go home.”

Angie just nodded. “Murphy’s. I don’t have much gas left in my tank; every bone in my forty-five-year-old body is aching,” she said with a sigh. “Hmm, I guess I can go for a little while.” Another long sigh.

Just as they were ready to leave, Louie pulled Angie aside and handed her an envelope. “Could you give me a call tomorrow? Two of your three credit cards were denied, and we’ll need to settle your account before the end of the week for the balance.” Angie raised her index and middle fingers to her temples and rubbed them, wondering, Where did all our money go? Vinnie said we were golden.

Amy S Peele was born and raised in the Chicago area, and now lives in Marin County in California. Having spent thirty five years working in the field of organ transplantation, she brings a fresh, knowledgable, and humorous new voice into the world of mystery novels.

In addition to killing people in her murder mysteries, she enjoys meditating, teaching yoga, swimming, and pursuing her spirituality by studying the teachings of Deepak Chopra. Amy invites you to her website www.amyspeele.com to learn more about her.

 

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Tour Stop: Interruption: Kingdom of Paradimia The Princess Annals Book 2 by Victor Pierce

 

 

Untether the pleasure.

Reclaim the magic.

Interruption: Kingdom of Paradimia

The Princess Annals Book 2

by Victor Pierce

Genre: Erotic Romantasy

Aaliyah’s journey continues in this erotic fantasy-scape as she struggles to understand whether love includes depravity.

Exposed to a handful of soul dust, Aaliyah re-awakens and sets off to free Gabriel from his prison within the Dry Woods. Outside, she is again confronted by a gryphon but with no not-to-bright knight to defend her. Good thing the gryphon only wants companionship. The flight of a wandering heartsick gryphon is not a direct route to anywhere and after watching a raunch of unicorns, Liyah tumbles into a magical river far from her desired destination. Between encounters with dwarves who remember her forgotten promise and fairies who sell favors for power, she must master the primal magics of patterning and untether the pleasures she once bound to fidelity.  For Liyah has learned that Gabriel, the man who anchors her, is not only trapped in the Dry Woods but also bound by primal locks that will age him to death if opened incorrectly. 

Every bit of new magics comes with a cost: soul-dust addiction, bargains that entangle desire and duty, and adversaries who want her power for themselves. With time collapsing and a witch’s spell hovering like an axe, Liyah must decide whether the route to rescue is the same path she promised never to tread—pleasure given away to reclaim what matters most. The question is simple and brutal: how much will she sacrifice to save him?

 

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Liyah blinked and found herself back in her body in the castle’s kitchen. Edwin gazed at her, concerned. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Indeed. She looked down to where the bag of red dust should have been cupped in her hand. The bag, along with its siblings on the table, had disappeared. For a moment, Liyah mourned. She wanted to return.

Edwin must have read her expression. “I removed it. It’s addictive. Soul dust. If I’d known something so powerful was left hanging around in the kitchens, I would have checked and removed it earlier. Perhaps magical royalty is less concerned with lower magics. Are you alright?” He’d rounded the table and stood beside her, rubbing her back.

She wasn’t, but she didn’t want him focused on her. She needed him to return to the dragon. “Lower magics?”

He sighed. “I forget you do not remember certain things. Most things, it seems, related to magics. In my kingdom, Paradimia, we are not generally born magics users, but we do have access to lower magics—magics not of people, but of things, like the soul dust. Low-level magics—from something inanimate, like the dust—may be used by anyone, whether they are magical themselves or not.”

She’d thought this land was without magics, but it seemed there were magics within, just not many magics of living beings. She nodded. “So it is not likely low-level magics would be hanging around in a kitchen. I understand.” She felt around on her body. “I don’t seem to be injured, so perhaps it is time I started my journey.”

“Do you not wish for my company?”

She needed him elsewhere. “It isn’t that I don’t want you with me. My parents need your assistance. Bethela will need another story for the spell needed to put my parents back to sleep. And I am going to the Dry Woods to free Gabriel. You see? We are fated to part ways now.”

It was a pity his expression grew suspicious, for she had relayed the truth. His voice broke as he spoke. “Is it what I did with the gargoyles? Is that why you no longer wish for my assistance?”

She had only briefly thought of the gargoyles since she died. It must have weighed on him. “It is not the gargoyles, although I know you to be the true knight you are from what I witnessed. And I know you to have love in your heart, even when you sometimes speak to me without consideration. No. Here I ask you to be the guardian I know you to be.”

“But why is it important that your parents go back to sleep? Surely they can be of greater assistance awake. They will eventually remember who you are.”

Liyah reached out and squeezed his arm. “I already know who I am, Edwin. That is thanks to you. I am Aaliyah, and I am kind and courageous and determined. I know those things about myself because of you.”

Edwin sighed and leaned back against the table. His golden locks fell against his handsome face. “So now I need to help your parents go back to sleep.”

“Yes. If anyone remembers who I am, a spell will find and kill me. Like the spell that protected the castle.”

He frowned. “Yes. That was very dangerous.”

“And my father says this spell is far worse than the one that chased us about Haven. So, you see, it is imperative that they go back to sleep. I do not wish to separate, but I must free Gabriel. When I left him, he was afire again.”

The Princess Annals: Kingdom of Haven

The Princess Annals Book 1

In this fantasy world of the erotic, Aaliyah must journey to find her lost identity. Aaliyah awakens in an empty castle with no memory and only an enchanted clock to send her on her quest. Seduce by one not-to-bright knight, Aaliyah finds herself hunted by an unseen force yet imbued with powerful magic. She must coerce horny pixies, swap sex stories with a dragon, and rely on that same not-too-bright knight to seduce the gargoyle king and his coven in order to secure the incantation that will reveal who she is. And her unknown enemy is catching up to her fast.

Aaliyah’s journey sends her to Gabriel imprisoned in a magical wood. She grows to love Gabriel and discovers that the only thing which can release him now is love, absolute. But how can she love completely if she doesn’t know who she is?

Beware gentle reader; thread carefully through this erotic romp as a woman awakened to her innate powers risks all to discover her true self before an unseen enemy annihilates her.

This is the first Aaliyah story in the series.

 

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Victor Pierce is a seasoned writer with a focus on erotic fiction. He enjoys classic mythology and horror novels. His first series, The Princess Annals, draws together his love for mythology and the erotic. He resides in College Park with his partner and her anxiety-ridden black cat and overly-social gray cat. You may reach him at victor.pierce@bookofvenus.com or at or at https://www.bookofvenus.com/connect-with-us/

 

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Tour Stop: Forbidden Bases Bridger City Falcons Book 1 by Alexa Fauli

 

 

Some rules were made to be broken.

Forbidden Bases

Bridger City Falcons Book 1

by Alexa Fauli

Genre: Sweet Fake Dating Sports Romance

CARTER

I’m Carter Blake—star first baseman for the Bridger City Falcons. Fame, money, women… I have it all.

Except the one woman I was never supposed to want.

Darcy Simmons is my best friend’s little sister. Off-limits. Always has been. But when she comes back to town, every line I drew years ago blurs fast. One bad night, one viral photo, and suddenly we’re pretending we’ve been secretly dating.

It’s fake. Temporary. Harmless.

Until it isn’t.

DARCY

Carter Blake was my teenage crush—the one I never got over. Now he’s a professional baseball star with a reputation that screams heartbreak.

Faking a relationship with him should be easy. Safe. No feelings allowed.

But the longer we pretend, the harder it becomes to ignore what’s always been there—and the more I risk losing my heart to the one man who could destroy it.

FORBIDDEN BASES is a sweet baseball romance featuring fake dating, brother’s best friend, no cheating, and a guaranteed HEA.

Some rules were made to be broken.


WHAT READERS WILL LOVE

✔ Fake dating
✔ Brother’s best friend
✔ Sweet and emotional romance
✔ No cheating
✔ Slow-burn tension
✔ Guaranteed HEA
✔ Perfect for fans of Hallmark-style romance with a sporty twist

 

 

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Carter

I pulled into the players' lot at Falcons Stadium, my truck's tires crunching over the gravel as I found my usual spot. The afternoon sun bathed the stadium in golden light, and I could already smell the freshly cut grass as I grabbed my gear from the passenger seat. Practice days had their own rhythm, different from game days—less pressure, more fine-tuning. I stretched my arms over my head, feeling yesterday's game still lingering in my muscles. Coach Miller would be waiting, probably already pacing the field with that damn whistle, ready to critique every move we made.

The locker room buzzed with the usual pre-practice chatter. I nodded to Rivera at his locker across from mine.

"Blake! How's that shoulder feeling?" he asked, tossing me a roll of athletic tape.

I caught it with one hand. "Better than your batting average." I grinned to soften the jab.

"You're an asshole," he laughed, pulling his practice jersey over his head.

I changed quickly, my movements practiced after years of this same routine. The smell of liniment and sweat permeated the air, familiar and oddly comforting. I laced up my cleats, grabbed my glove, and headed for the dugout.

The late afternoon sun hit me full in the face as I stepped onto the field. I paused at the top step, taking it in—the emerald expanse of the outfield, the reddish-brown dirt of the infield, and the crisp white baselines freshly laid down. This view never got old. A baseball field was the one place in the world that made perfect sense to me.

"Blake! Stop admiring the scenery and get your ass over here!" Coach Miller's voice cut through my moment. I jogged over to where the team was gathering along the first-base line. Coach stood with his arms crossed, his Falcons cap pulled low over his eyes, that perpetual look of mild disappointment etched on his face.

"Alright, listen up," he barked, not bothering to raise his voice—he never needed to. "Infielders with me. Outfielders with Coach Taylor. Pitchers to the bullpen with Ramirez. We're working on fundamentals today because apparently, some of you forgot what those are during yesterday's game."

A few guys chuckled. We'd won yesterday, but it had been sloppy—three errors and some baserunning mistakes that had Coach's veins popping out of his neck by the seventh inning.

I followed the rest of the infield to our positions. The dirt felt firm under my cleats as I took my spot at shortstop. Coach Miller stood at home plate, fungo bat in hand.

"Let's go! Double plays. Martinez to Blake to Thompson."

He smacked a grounder toward second base. Martinez fielded it cleanly, pivoted, and fired the ball to me. I caught it as I glided across second, tapped the bag with my foot, and threw to first in one fluid motion. The ball hit Thompson's glove with a satisfying pop.

"Again!" Coach called, already sending another one.

We fell into rhythm. Ground ball, scoop, throw, catch, pivot, throw, catch. My body knew what to do without my brain getting involved. The sun warmed my back, and sweat began to trickle down my spine. I loved this—the mechanical precision of it, the way my muscles remembered every movement.

"Blake! Watch your footwork on that double play!" Coach Miller's voice cut through my flow. "You're getting lazy with the pivot. Do it again."

I didn't argue. Coach's eyes missed nothing. Instead, I reset my position, adjusted my stance slightly, and waited for the next ball.

"He’s on your ass already?" Thompson called from first base.

"When is he not?" I shot back with a grin.

The next grounder came hot, a tough short-hop that I had to charge. I scooped it cleanly, stepped on second, and fired to first—textbook.

"Better," Coach Miller said, which from him was practically a standing ovation.

We worked through the drills for another twenty minutes. The rhythm of practice wrapped around me like a comfortable blanket—the crack of the bat, the calls from teammates, the thud of balls hitting gloves. My shirt stuck to my back with sweat, and dirt collected in the creases of my palms.

"Water break, then switching to situational defense," Coach announced, blowing his whistle.

I jogged to the dugout, grabbing a paper cup and filling it from the cooler.

"Looking smooth out there, Blake," said Diaz, our catcher, as he filled his own cup.

"Thanks, man. How're the pitchers looking?"

"Chen's slider is nasty today. Cruz is still fighting his control."

I nodded, draining my cup and crumpling it. The water was cold against my throat.

"Blake!" Coach Miller appeared at the dugout steps. "I need you to work with Rodriguez on his transfers. Kid's got good hands but he's fumbling the exchange."

"Sure thing, Skip."

Rodriguez was our rookie second baseman, called up just last month when Pearson went on the injured list. Good kid, quick feet, but still learning the ropes.

I found him by the batting cage, nervously fielding grounders from one of the assistants.

"Hey, Rodriguez," I called, trotting over. "Coach wants us to work on transfers."

"Oh, yeah, sure." His eyes widened slightly. Working directly with a veteran always made the rookies nervous.

"Relax, I don't bite. Much." I grinned, positioning myself next to him. "Show me what you're doing."

The assistant coach hit him a grounder. Rodriguez fielded it well but fumbled slightly as he moved the ball from his glove to his throwing hand.

"I see the issue," I said. "You're rushing it. Let me show you."

I nodded to the coach, who sent a grounder my way. I fielded it smoothly, transferring it to my throwing hand in one fluid motion.

"See how I let the momentum of the ball carry into my throwing hand? You're trying to force it." I demonstrated again. "It's all about rhythm. Like dancing with a pretty girl—you've got to feel the flow."

Rodriguez nodded earnestly. "Can I try again?"

We worked for another fifteen minutes, his transfers gradually becoming smoother. Coach Miller watched from a distance, his arms crossed but his scowl a little less severe.

"Better, kid." I clapped Rodriguez on the shoulder. "You'll get it."

Alexa Fauli is a devoted sports romance author whose passion for the Atlanta Braves and love of hockey inspire her vibrant stories of competition and connection. When she's not dreaming up unforgettable characters who play hard for both love and victory, Alexa enjoys sipping toasted white mochas, watching anime romances, and cherishing time with her family. Her life is a delightful blend of heart, heat, and the magic that happens both on and off the page.

 

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Tour Stop: A Hundred Black Sunrises A Friday the 13th Story by Tamela Miles

 

 

Keeping secrets keeps you alive.

Sienna would know.

A Hundred Black Sunrises

A Friday the 13th Story

by Tamela Miles

Genre: Dark Paranormal Romance

A hundred different ways to break your heart, a hundred different ways to take your last breath. Sienna and Finn are exploring their strange attraction to each other until strange becomes something sinister. The clock is ticking as they fight to unravel the mystery of what draws them together on fateful Friday, the 13th.

 

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Tamela Miles is a California State University San Bernardino graduate student with a Bachelor of Science degree in Child Development and a former flight attendant. She grew up in Altadena, California in that tumultuous time known as the 1980s. She now resides with her family in the Inland Empire, CA. She’s a horror/paranormal romance writer mainly because it feels so good having her characters do bad things and, later, pondering what makes them so bad and why they can never seem to change their wicked ways.

She enjoys emails from people who like her work. In fact, she loves emails. She can be contacted at tamelamiles@yahoo.com or her Facebook page, Tamela Miles Books. She also welcomes reader reviews and enjoys the feedback from people who love to read as much as she does.

 

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