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Catwalk

7/6/2021

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Catwalk
Nicole Gabor
Publication date: July 6th 2021
Genres: Coming of Age, Young Adult

Eighteen-year-old, shy, suburban aspiring model Cat Watson suddenly has it all as the New York fashion world’s new “It” girl and she thinks she has everything she ever dreamed of—until she realizes be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

Leaving her good-girl image behind, Cat quickly learns things aren’t always what they seem on the catwalk, and she’s faced with a decision that will change her life forever.

WILMINGTON, Delaware, May 12, 2021

When 18-year-old Catherine Watson disobeys her parents and ditches her Ivy-league acceptance to start fresh as an aspiring model in New York City, a chance encounter with fashion world bigwigs gives her a world-class agent plus a boyfriend she only dreamed about. But as she navigates the fickle world of modeling, she realizes that to get ahead, she’ll have to leave herself behind—but is it worth it? Catwalk is an expertly written tale of first love, coming of age, and high-fashion, from award-winning author and editor Nicole Gabor, inspired by her own experiences as a runway model.

In her suburban hometown, Catherine had what most would consider a charmed life: a 4.0 GPA, a good-guy boyfriend who had his whole life planned out down to the two kids, two dogs, two-car garage—and it scared her to death. She wasn’t ready to follow a traditional path to a paint-by-numbers existence. She longed for adventure, for a life less…ordinary. When Catherine moves away to pursue her modeling dream in New York City and moves in with Jon-Michelle “Jonnie” who tackles the newly-named “Cat” as “her next project,” she revels in her newfound career, thinking “this is what it’s like to be young and beautiful in the greatest city in the world.”

“At that moment, it hit me. I was a mere mortal in a room full of demigods: actors, actresses, bygone legends of the stage and screen; men and women who had traipsed down red carpets all of their lives, whom the rest of the country, no, the world, had pined for, had paid to know the secrets of. Here I was standing among them, cavorting with twenty-first century royals.”

Cat meets Seth, a beautiful and kind but troubled New York scenester, the son of a ‘70s fashion model icon who fatally overdosed during her prime, and she feels strangely protective. She wants to save him like he saved her on her first night out on the town in New York City’s gritty yet swanky meatpacking district club scene.

When Cat is “discovered” by the one and only Philippe Borghetta, the hottest fashion designer in the pages of Vogue magazine, she thinks she has it all. Her life is thrust into an alternate universe, where star-studded cocktail parties, casting calls, go-sees, and nightclub openings revolve around her like constellations. She tries to play the part. Her former self, “Catherine,” was now a shadow of who she was and what she was becoming.

Cat thinks she’s finally gotten what she wanted all along—a chance to start over, a redo, a refresh. But as the lines blur between who she once was and who she wants to be, she’s reminded of her mother’s words, “Sometimes the things that are most worth fighting for are the things you already have.” Cat finds she has to make a decision that will change her life—and possibly the modeling world—forever.

Drawing on her own experiences in the fast-paced fashion model industry, former model and author of more than twenty children’s books, Nicole Gabor masterfully weaves a timeless story of self-discovery, coming of age, and the heartache of first loves. Catwalk is her debut young adult/new adult novel, available July 2021 wherever books are sold.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

My parents stared at me from across the kitchen table, stunned. They looked as though I’d just told them that our 12-year-old lab, Holly, had died.

I watched the wrinkles on my mother’s forehead get deeper and darker, and it seemed like she was aging right before my eyes. Was her hair turning gray? I once heard that former First Lady Barbara Bush’s hair turned gray overnight from the shock and grief of losing her baby daughter.

But I was not dead, or even dying. I was alive, and in the flesh. And I had just told my parents that I, Catherine Watson, their only daughter — the one with the 4.0 grade point average who my stay-at-home mother hoped would become a successful career woman, and my father secretly wished would follow in his footsteps as a lawyer — was not going to college after all.

I was, in fact, moving to New York City. To be a fashion model.

As I spoke, my letter of decline to the University of Pennsylvania’s College of Arts and Sciences was signed, sealed, and on its way to the admissions office. My mother cried and said that I was breaking her heart. My father yelled and said that I was ruining my life. Part of me feared they were right. To be honest, I couldn’t believe I’d actually gotten up the nerve to send that letter. I’d always listened to my parents, did the “right” thing. Never cut class. Been teacher’s pet. Made curfew. But I was sick of following the rules.

With my high school graduation just behind me, the idea of more school — only to be followed by an office job that would imprison me within four gray walls — was something that I couldn’t succumb to yet, if ever.

I was ready for adventure, for excitement, for a life less … ordinary. And I had a hunch that plenty of people stuck to the safe roads, so maybe, just maybe, I could make it on a path where everyone else wasn’t taking up so much space.

Of course, it did seem an odd choice. I’d always been so ashamed of the attributes that could, quite possibly, make me a model. Lanky and lean at 6 feet tall, I had a way of sticking out in the hallways, towering over most of the female (and many of the male) teachers. Growing up, I’d tried everything I could to blend in, to bulk up, to deny my stature: I drank milkshakes. Dressed in layers. Only wore flats. Avoided stretching in gym glass. Never stood next to the short boys in line.

But then, one day, something happened. My mother took me to Victoria’s Secret in Philadelphia to pick out my first fancy grown-up bra for my birthday. I was eying the “extreme lift” padded pushups (which I was sure would jumpstart my love life), when a woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I wanted to be a model. Just like that.

“She just turned 14,” my mother said, looking a bit puzzled and slightly irritated. “I think she’s a little young, don’t you?”

“She’s perfect,” said the older woman, who was in her sixties and dressed far more fashionably than my 45-year-old mother.

She couldn’t possibly be talking about me, I thought. Is this some sort of practical joke? A sick, twisted joke? I looked around expecting to see some mean girls from school, but the place was virtually empty. I turned back around, feeling my face flush.

“You … you think I could model?” I stammered.

“I think you’re wasting your talent if you don’t,” she said. “Here’s my card. Call me when your mother changes her mind.”

But she never did. And neither did my father. Despite all my begging and pleading. My parents said that high school was more important, that getting into college was more important. That anything was more important than “aspiring toward such a frivolous pursuit.”

So I did what any girl in my situation would do. I stomped up the stairs, slammed the door, and screamed and cried into my pillow. But for the first time in my life, I felt like something special. Someone special. And my parents were not going to take that away from me.

Author Bio:

Nicole is a published author of more than 20 children's picture books and an award-winning health writer and editor. Her debut young adult/new adult fiction novel Catwalk is inspired by her experiences living and working in New York City as a model. She's also a freelance writer at Highlights for Children and a senior editor at KidsHealth.org, the web's most-visited site for children's health. She lives in Delaware with her husband, three children, and their Goldendoodle named Ginger. Learn more at www.nicolegabor.com

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Highland Beast

7/5/2021

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Highland Beast
Amy Jarecki
(The King’s Outlaws, #3)
Published by: Oliver Heber Books
Publication date: June 29th 2021
Genres: Adult, Historical Romance

When Sir Arthur Campbell leads an attack claiming Dunstaffnage Castle for Robert the Bruce, he is rewarded with both the keep and surrounding lands. As he assumes the lairdship, he finds a saboteur within his ranks. He sets a trap to ensnare the culprit, only to discover the rebel is none other than Rhona MacDougall—the only woman he has ever loved.

After her clan is devastated by war, Rhona refuses to bend to Arthur’s whims. Aye, he once stole her heart, but that was before he fought against her kin. When in his presence, she plays the demure lady, though behind the scenes, she’s doing everything in her power to subvert his authority. And she thinks she has him fooled…until he beats the lass at her own game.

Prepared to meet his condemnation, Rhona bravely stands before this man whom she has deemed a beast. But Arthur confronts her with a proposition she never dreamed possible—if she proves that she can change. If not, the desire long ago burned onto their souls just might hold them both captive for eternity.

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EXCERPT:

Arthur followed Rhona to the well. “I’d be grateful if ye’d pour a bit of water over my hands.”

Her gaze slid to his chest while her lips parted, emitting the slightest of gasps. By the grace of God, he liked having her eyes upon him and the way her pupils grew larger. She raised the bucket and started a stream.

“Ye’ve had practice,” he said, rubbing his hands clean.

“Aye, everyone kens me to be the bucket-wielding widow.”

He chuckled as she set the pail down, picked up the hem of her apron, and set to drying his hands. Her touch was firm, yet gentle, the linen, soft and soothing. “Ye’ve had a difficult time of it over the years, have ye not?” he asked, his tone gentle.

His hands were dry, yet she continued to rub the cloth over them and up his forearms. “Things haven’t been all that bad. Ivor and I were only married a year, and he’s been gone so long, his memory is fading. I suppose it was difficult at first, but now I have Gran to look after and my patients, of course.”

“And you enjoy your work?”

Rhona’s apron fell away as she gripped his hands. “I do. Being a healer gives me a sense of purpose.”

“Just being yourself is purpose enough for me.”

She took a step nearer and raised her chin. “Ye oughtn’t remove your shirt when visiting a…um…widow.”

“Forgive—”

Within a heartbeat, she wrapped her arms around him and fused her lips to his in a passionate, burning, demanding kiss, expressing more emotion than she had during the entire day of conversation. Her tongue swirled with his in a bone-melting, fire-igniting dance. A kiss that promised to lead to so much more with frantic caressing. The discarding of clothes. The erotic sensation of flesh brushing flesh, of taut nipples, of heady, steamy, moist--

Dear God, Arthur’s knees nearly buckled as she pressed her body against his. Her breasts molded to his chest, her mons connected with his cock, making him harder and more ravenous than he’d ever been in his life.

“Forgive me,” Rhona sighed, her head dropping back. “I should not have kissed ye.”

“Never say that. Kissing you makes me forget who I am. What I’ve done. When I kiss ye, I am the only man in the world and you the only woman.” Arthur brushed his lips across hers. “I never want to stop.”

“But I’m not the same lass ye fell in love with over that fanciful summer. Nor are ye the same lad. We both have our crosses to bear.”

He moved his palms to her shoulders and took a step back. “What are ye saying?”

“I know not.” Shaking her head, Rhona hid her face in her palms. “Whenever we are together, I am always so confused.”

“Are you muddled because of the rift between Lorn and the Bruce?”

“Aye,” she said, her voice uncertain. “Ye ken I must be faithful to my granduncle and to my clan.”

“Hmm.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes tightly. By the gods, he wanted her more than life’s breath, but she needed to want him with equal fervor and without a rift tearing apart her heart. The lass was too conflicted and until she reconciled her loyalties, she would not love him as much as he loved her. No matter how much he wanted to bend his knee and ask the question to make her his, he mustn’t push her. “I’ve been away from my post for long enough. I must be heading back.”

As he released her, she stepped away. “Now?”

He bowed. “My thanks for an enjoyable afternoon spent in your company, mistress. Mayhap we can sing another round of ‘The Twa Sisters’ again soon.”

With that, he straightened and walked away. It took a will of iron, but Arthur did not look back.

Author Bio:

Multi-Award winning and Amazon Bestselling author, Amy Jarecki likes to grab life, latch on and reach for the stars. She's married to a mountain-biking pharmacist and has put four kids through college. She studies karate, ballet, yoga, and often you'll find her hiking Utah's Santa Clara Hills. Reinventing herself a number of times, Amy sang and danced with the Follies, was a ballet dancer, a plant manager, and an accountant for Arnott's Biscuits in Australia. After earning her MBA from Heroit-Watt University in Scotland, she dove into the world of historical romance and hasn't returned. Become a part of her world and learn more about Amy's books on amyjarecki.com, find her on Facebook and Twitter as @amyjarecki.

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Lessons in Sin

7/3/2021

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Lessons in Sin
Pam Godwin
Publication date: June 29th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

There’s no absolution for the things I’ve done.
But I found a way to control my impulses.
I became a priest.

As Father Magnus Falke, I suppress my cravings. As the headteacher of a Catholic boarding school, I’m never tempted by a student.

Until Tinsley Constantine.

The bratty princess challenges my rules and awakens my dark nature. With each punishment I lash upon her, I want more. In my classroom, private rectory, and bent over my altar, I want all of her.

One touch risks everything I stand for. My faith. My redemption. And even my life.

As if that could stop me. I need her pain, and her heart, and she needs my lessons in sin.

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EXCERPT:

The sweetest heaven.

My heaven, my salvation—neither of which I deserved.

The lemony scent of her sank into my lungs as I took and took, and she had no choice but to be taken. She was my charge after all. Mine to instruct. Mine to discipline.

Mine.

I kissed her with all the pent-up hunger of the last six weeks. She echoed my intensity, stroking my lips and tongue with eager, impish caresses as though my mouth held what she most needed to exist. I wanted to give it to her, and I did. With a palm on one of her bottom cheeks, I squeezed the firm curve of it, punishing her sensitized welts.

Her moan shuddered through the night. Her kiss shuddered through me, and my brain stopped functioning. We could’ve been the last humans in the world, for all I felt was her.

Just her, the woman who made me so painfully hard, and the cocoon of darkness that was our freedom from the outside world.

I ground my cock against her, telling her with my body what I should never again demand with words. I wanted her innocence, her pleasure, her pain. I wanted her completely, no matter how wrong.

“Magnus.” My name was a plea, her voice pitched with lust and longing.

It only heightened the ache. I ached with the pressure of hard heat. Ached with the knowledge that I only needed to lower my zipper and thrust beneath her skirt.

The thought made me frantic, and I kissed her harder, deeper, needing more, more, more.

I tore my mouth away and spun her around. The blankets tripped up her legs, and she stumbled. I didn’t help her. I shoved her. To her knees, onto her chest, I followed her down to the tangled pile of fleece.

I couldn’t stop my hands from sliding up the backs of her thighs. Couldn’t stop my fingers from pinching and twisting the welts on her hot little ass.

A scream rippled out of her, spurring me to fall upon her and ride her, grinding, dry humping as my fingers fumbled with my zipper. Mindless, feral, I wanted inside her with every drop of my blood. And hers. I wanted to make her bleed.

Her neck turned, bringing her gaze over her shoulder, her eyes bright with female awareness. Her hair dragged through the mud, her face and hands coated with it.

Everything inside me stilled.

This was wrong.

She shouldn’t be held down like this. Not in the mud. Not in the cold. And never ever with me.

“No,” I whispered. Then louder. “No.”

I shoved away from her, driving myself back across the wet earth while battling every desire to claim her.

“What are you doing?” She pushed up, wincing as she rolled to her butt. “Why did you stop?”

“I’m hurting you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I will.”

“You won’t.” Breath burst from her lungs on a loud guffaw. “I won’t allow it.”

I sprung to my feet, roaring, “I was seconds from taking your virginity in the mud like a fucking animal!”

“Because I was giving it to you!” She stood, too, her knuckles whitening around fists at her sides. “If you want it, it’s yours. I’d much rather get rid of it with you than with Tucker Kensington or some other fumbling boy.”

“I’m not fucking you. Not now. Not ever.” Pounded by fury, I paced, circled a tree, returned to her side, and exploded. “So help me God, if you so much as give Tucker your mouth, I’ll bloody your damn hide so completely you won’t be able to sit for a month. Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh, Miss girl. Is that supposed to be a threat?”

Miss girl? Did she think I was joking around? That this was a laughing matter?

“No one touches you!” My voice thundered with my rage, scaring off whatever was in the trees.

She stumbled back.

I stayed with her, shoving my face in hers.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Her eyes squeezed shut. Then she spun away without another word.


Author Bio:

New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.

Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.

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The Imperial Orchid

7/3/2021

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The Imperial Orchid
Nicola Italia
Publication date: June 22nd 2021
Genres: Historical Romance

At the end of the Victorian era, Orchid Mania has gripped the wealthy and aristocratic men of England. Collectors are willing to spend a small fortune to obtain the rare flowers from distant lands. Lord Holloway, president of the Royal Horticultural Society in London, has decided to finance an expedition team to Ceylon to capture one of the rarest orchids on earth.

Frances Wakefield is an educated woman and a gifted illustrator and has traveled throughout Europe documenting various plants and flowers for the Society. When Lord Holloway handpicks her to travel to Ceylon as a member of the expedition team, she is thrilled.

When she lands in Egypt to meet the other team members, she comes face-to-face with Miles St. Clair, Lord Holloway’s son and heir. He is the arrogant, handsome, insufferable man she encountered at several soirees in London and the team’s leader.

Frances soon learns the trip to Ceylon is to find a very rare orchid. But someone has been watching Lord Holloway’s expedition team, and treachery is afoot. While the expedition intensifies, so does the growing attraction between Miles and Frances, who must work together if they hope to make it out of Ceylon alive.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Miles rubbed his chin and felt the growth of a day’s beard. He could barely remember the night before except that he had lost a goodly sum on whist, and he vaguely recalled a blonde half-naked in his arms.

He opened his eyes gingerly and saw that there was no blonde in sight, and he was indeed lying in a bed in one of his favorite brothels. The curtains covering the windows were crimson red, and the bed was a plush mattress in an ornate wooden frame with baby cupids detailed in the artwork. He groaned as his head ached; he had lost count of the number of whiskeys he had consumed the night before.

He contemplated looking for his trousers and getting dressed, but he knew that would cause his head to pound more. He preferred to lie in bed a while more until he felt a little better.

A sharp knock fell upon the door, and he looked up, wincing. He looked around but knew he was very much alone. Had the blonde returned? He wasn’t up for any more love play.

“Come in,” he called out.

He grinned with relief when his companion and long-time friend from university, Percival Browne, entered the room.

“You look like half-baked shit,” Percival told his friend as he picked up Miles’s trousers from the floor. Miles groaned as he caught the pants Percival flung at him.

“I don’t remember much of last night, Percy. Except that I lost a fair amount, and there was a blonde.” He tossed the bed sheets back and pulled on his trousers.

“Do you see my shir—” he began just as the clothing article hit him in the face.

“Cheers, mate,” Percival said as he took a chair opposite the bed. Miles narrowed his eyes at his friend as he pulled his shirt on.

“And did you say, ‘lost a fair amount?’” Percy eased the chair back. “If I recall the exact amount you lost as the correct amount, your best bet is to go to America and start afresh, so your father doesn’t skin you alive.”


Author Bio:

Nicola spent her childhood in Los Angeles. As a young student in elementary school, she had a great fondness for reading and began to write creatively. She graduated from university with a degree in communications and held a variety of positions in journalism, education, government and non profit.

Nicola has traveled extensively throughout Europe, China and Central America.
Nicola's goal is to create rich characters with a strong male lead and a passionate female lead.

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