WELCOME TO BEANTOWN by P Marie and Elle Vanzandt


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🍁 About the Book 🍁
They say the college years are what really shape a person for adulthood, and although rare, unbreakable bonds of friendship can be made.

Gianna Moretti, Alexis Cole and Shelby Lansing are about to discover just how true that is.

When the three of them are thrust together in a new city and on their own for the first time at Boston College, none of them expected to click so suddenly despite their many differences.

They also didn’t anticipate how much their lives would be changed.

Forgotten dreams, family secrets and heartbreaking fears are revealed as they grow, learn and laugh together. What started as a bond of circumstance quickly becomes something they never realized they’d all been missing –true friendship.

However, when devastation strikes, will their friendship survive?

🍁 About the Authors 🍁
About Elle Vanzandt

Elle Vanzandt grew up a Navy brat who has had the privilege of living in many places but she will always call Illinois her home. A stay-at-home mom to two amazing children, a blogger, and a writer, she wears many hats. With determination and strength taught to her by her mother, she has made it through many obstacles, always sticking with the family motto ‘pull up your bootstraps and get it done’. Writing is an adventure she could have never predicted but is enjoying the ride all the same. In her free time you can find Elle with a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Background noise is a must, usually in the form of her kids, but Netflix and country music on Spotify come in a close second and third.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElleVanzandtAuthor
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About P. Marie

P. Marie lives in a small town outside of Boston where she was born and raised. She resides in the house she grew up in with her husband of 33 years and her two fur babies, Tek and Tessie. She is the proud mother of two adult children as well. While she is a corporate girl during the day, she has become both a writer and blogger by night. P. Marie says she owes her success to her mother who taught her that if you believe in yourself, you can achieve anything.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pmarieauthor/



DRIFTER by Janine Infante Bosco


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I’m a drifter.
A man born to ride through this world alone.
There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives.
I was going to be a true American hero.
But God had another plan.
Or maybe Satan did.
For everything I touch finds mortality.
I’m no hero.
I’m nothing.
I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell.
Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos.
The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes.
A girl who has the power to turn me inside out.
A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior.
Until she’s not.
But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.

Gina Spinelli

Strong. Independent. Fierce.
They are the three things I strived to be.
But sometimes being successful can be lonely.
Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her.
Maybe even love her.
Sometimes the strong become vulnerable.
Or worse, the victor becomes the victim.
Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you.
Defeated. Broken. Haunted.
They are the three things I have become.
In my darkest hour I admit defeat.
In my darkest hour I need one person.
I need him.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***



Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

Website: http://www.janineinfantebosco.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/janineboscoauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JanineBosco
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/grassking205/
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Amazon Author Profile: http://amzn.to/2b98hQM

#JanineInfanteBosco #TheNomadSeries #DriftingIntoChaos #ContemporaryRomance #MCRomance #RomanticSuspense

Excerpt – Silence.

It engulfs me, provides me with a false sense of security the moment I close my eyes and drags my subconscious into the depths of sleep. But, it’s quickly ripped from me by the sound of plagued screams. A woman shouts with a foreign tongue and though I don’t understand the Afghani language I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she’s yelling for her innocent child to run, to seek shelter and for the man with the laser pointed at the child’s head not to shoot.
I am the man with the sniper rifle.
I am the man perched on a roof, with my finger firmly wrapped around the trigger.
And that bitch just sent her fucking child to play in the sand with a bomb strapped to his back.
For a moment, I want to believe she’s not playing me—that her kid isn’t a ploy in some sick terrorist plot. I ignore the sounds of my men commanding me to take my shot, insisting that time is of the essence and if I don’t do it, I’m betraying my country. I loosen my finger around the trigger and open both my eyes and watch the boy lift a handful of sand through the scope attached to my rifle. He opens his palm and spreads his fingers wide letting the grains of sand fall through them before he looks back at his mother.
She shouts more of that foreign bullshit and I wish I could get my hands on her and slice her tongue from her mouth.
It’s the final thought that crosses my mind before I pull the trigger and watch the boy fall back into the sand as my bullet pierces him between his eyes–innocent eyes that were once wide with wonder now are dull and lifeless.
Sweat beads along my brow and I can feel the bile rise up my throat as I wait. Everything around me fades as I stare at the boy in the sand. I lose myself and question my purpose, my mission, my platoon—everything. The bomb doesn’t go off and I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. I frantically peer into the scope, moving it to the right in search for the mother. I picture the Virgin Mary cradling her lifeless son that was pulled from the cross and wait for the woman dressed in black garb to do the same but she’s nowhere in sight.
Before I can divert my eyes back to the boy the blast erupts robbing me the opportunity to look into his eyes one final time because his head has been blown off his body and the fragments of him are now one with the sand he was playing with.
This is war.
And this is hell.
All that’s left is the sound of my own screams vibrating through my body, deafening as it pounds my eardrums and invades my head.
It’s those very screams that pull me from my sleep night after night and why I’ve given up on getting a full night’s rest, using my bed only to fuck and even that didn’t happen too often.
Until her.
I used to pound my dick into any willing pussy, never bringing them into my bed, believing I didn’t need that false sense of hope that I’m normal when I’ve got a woman wrapped around me, begging to spend the night in my arms after I’ve thoroughly fucked her—only for her to realize I’m fucked in the head when I wake her up screaming like a little bitch.
Yeah, I didn’t need that shit.
Hell, I didn’t want it.
Until her.
But I’ve learned my lesson and I’ve learned it the hard way. It’s the reason I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of a fucking filthy motel—waiting for the sun to rise as I stare at the battered and bruised woman in my bed, when all I want to do is climb in next to her and pull her into my arms—take away her pain and forget mine. I clench my fists and keep them pinned against the arms of the chair as I take in the dried up blood on her naturally pouty lips—lips that skimmed every inch of my body and I crave every night since.
I tear my eyes from her mouth and zero in on her closed eyes—eyes I know are pale green. Eyes once vibrant with life and mischief are now going to be full of torment and fear—when the swelling goes down and she can fucking open them again.
Her long brown hair is splayed across my pillow, matted with blood and knots from being fisted and pulled, leaving her scalp sore and just as bruised as the rest of her. I let my eyes travel the length of her, knowing the body she’s hiding behind her clothes matches her face in color and shame.
A knock sounds on my door and I tear my eyes away from the restless beauty, squirming between my sheets—wishing its pleasure that has her twisting and not torment.
Torment can’t be erased, it can’t be silenced—that shit sticks with you.
It lives inside you and destroys you, fractures your soul and rips your life to shreds.
I may have rescued her tonight but the woman in my bed is as good as dead. Her soul has been taken, chewed up and spit out by the men who attacked her—when she wakes up all she’ll know is grief.
She’ll mourn the life she had and wish the one she’s left with ends.



Stripped Bare
A Vegas Billionaire Novel #1
By: Heidi McLaughlin
Releasing March 28, 2017

“By far one of McLaughlin’s best!” – New York Times bestselling author LP Dover
They don’t call it the Strip for nothing. . .
In this sinfully sexy Las Vegas romance from bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin, a man who has it all reunites with a woman who takes it all off.
Living in Sin City, Finn McCormick is no stranger to one-night stands, but the last person he expects to find losing big on the casino floor is a former high school fling. Even though MaceyWebster’s clearly down on her luck, she’s still a knockout, and she’s dressed like a stripper—because she is one. Drunk off an unfamiliar cocktail of lust, pity, and compassion, Finn offers to pay Macey’s debts if she cuddles up to him around town . . . and does whatever he wants between the sheets.
Macey came to Vegas for one reason only: money. She’s got a young daughter to support, and the tips really are bigger in Vegas. But when she blows her earnings on blackjack, her guardian angel is the rich boy who once stole her heart and never called her back. Although Macey would love to turn the tables on Finn, she can’t afford to refuse his proposition—and soon she’s enjoying herself much more than she cares to admit. Macey’s used to baring her flesh, but baring her soul will take far more courage.
Goodreads Link:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31358845-stripped-bare?ac=1&from_search=true


Buy Links: Amazon | Barnes | Google | iTunes | Kobo
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HWKSBME
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Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Heidi_McLaughlin

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1150863052
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/stripped-bare-15

Author Info
HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author. Originally from Portland, Oregon, and raised in the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup, and a Highland Westie/Mini Schnauzer, Jill and her brother, Racicot. When she’s isn’t writing one of the many stories planned for release, you’ll find her sitting court-side during either daughter’s basketball games.
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
Website: http://heidimclaughlin.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHeidiMcLaughlin/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/HeidiJoVT
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6568302.Heidi_McLaughlin

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Preorder for 99¢
Amazon: https://mybook.to/BecauseBeards
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Be it a little scruff or a full length beard, there’s nothing more attractive than a man with a well-groomed face. Masculine. Powerful. Sexy. Devoted. Lose yourself in this tantalizing collection of original short stories by your favorite romance authors in support of a great cause. Hipster CEO, bartender, best friend, baseball player—just to name a few—these men all have one thing in common: they’re bearded for your pleasure and deliver one hell of a happy ever after.

All proceeds from this anthology will be donated to The Movember Foundation, an organization that supports charities in the research and treatment of prostate and testicular cancer as well as other men’s health initiatives.

Written by Alexis Alvarez Author, Author Faith Andrews, Author M. Andrews, Jeannine Colette, Hayley Faiman, AngelitaGill, Ace Gray, Author Ruthie Henrick, Scott Hildreth, Evie Lauren, Jerica MacMillan, Author R.C. Martin, Emmanuelle de Maupassant, Leslie McAdam Author, Maria Monroe, Adrienne Perry, J. Quist, Renee Rose Romance, Kacey Shea Author, Martha Sweeney, and Tom Sweeney


Excerpt One: No Joke by Kacey Shea

He leans forward, resting his elbows and forearms on the counter so our faces are inches apart. I’m trying to be pissed here, but with him this close I get distracted studying the way the blue in his eyes catches the dim light.
“People watching,” he murmurs, his tone a seductive allure.
“Huh?” I’m still lost in those eyes and don’t remember exactly what we’re discussing.
“The way you watch people. It’s something a writer does. Finds entertainment and joy in the mundane of life. It’s beautiful, really.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“So, what is it that you write?” His voice is back to a casual pitch and I relax.
“Ah . . . I knew with that mouth you’d have to have a naughty side. What kind of romance? Fifty Shades or the Fabio-grandma type stuff?”
I roll my eyes. “You do realize there’s so much more to it than that?” A little laugh escapes my lips and his gaze drops to my mouth. I feel the need to lick the parched skin. Fuck. I’m so screwed.
“Only if you want to be,” he says and his eyes blaze with the same heat I feel all over my skin.
“You said, ‘Fuck, I’m so screwed,’ and not gonna lie. I’d like to help you with that.”


Excerpt Two: The Beard Made Me Do It by Scott Hildreth

I grabbed my purse, turned toward the bathroom, and began to walk away. Carefully placing each foot in front of the other, and at least attempting to look sophisticated, I intentionally walked past the bearded wonder positioned between me and the restroom.
As I walked by, I glanced over my shoulder.
I would have sworn our eyes met.
Maybe it was because I wanted them to.
Either way, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen.
His beard?
Perfection defined.
After relieving myself of the afternoon’s alcohol, I stood at the sink and stared blankly into the mirror. Mentally preparing to talk to the magnificent stranger, I was convinced I had what it took – short of a little courage – to impress him.
I turned toward the door, inhaled a breath of bravery, and pulled it open.
Oh shit!
Standing on the other side of the door stood the bearded wonder. Wearing a shitty little smirk, it appeared he knew I was coming. Although I had many things planned to say, and many more I wanted to say, I executed none of my plans.
Instead, I stepped to the side, gazed at him with wide eyes, and muttered a half-hearted apology as I passed. “Sorry,” I squeaked.
His hand gripped my shoulder lightly. “Wait.”
Oh God.
My legs began to shake. I turned around.
“You’re single, adventurous, and have no problem keeping a secret,” he said flatly. I couldn’t help but notice that his teeth seemed as white as the winter snow, but it was his beard that commanded my attention.
I stared back at it – and him – in disbelief.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Am I right?”
My eyes were still fixed on his beard. I nodded. “Uh huh.”
He reached for my hand, turned toward the back door, and paused. “You’re going to come with me.”


Excerpt Three: How To Kill a Lady Boner by Ace Gray

I was bent over the pool table, about ready to sink the eight ball, when a pair of skinny jeans came into view. The legs those pants wrapped around were muscular, and the man was obviously tall. What was even better was that they barely contained what made a man a real man. I couldn’t help but smirk and shoot the ball right at, well, his balls.
“Nice one.” A smooth, rich voice traveled down my spine and made my skin goose bump. I was incredibly glad I’d worn a V-neck that put my cleavage on display. I tried to shimmy the well-worn fabric down as I stood up.
My face fell. Of course, a beard waited for me. One of the big ones you could easily confuse with a grizzly bear vagina.
On second look, The Beard waited for me. I scrunched my face up and bent back down to fish for pool balls so I could re-rack and move on. I kept my head down and my hands busy despite the full weight of his stare.
“Can I play?” he purred at me, literally purred like a jungle cat or something. I arched my eyebrows and looked up at him from underneath my lashes at the ridiculous sound.
“I’m playing with my friend. You can have winner if she doesn’t care.” My eyes dropped back to the table as I spoke.
“Deal.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice and it had me pursing my lips as I stood.
It only took a quick scan of the room to see Mandy had disappeared from my side. She was halfway across the bar, standing next to her brother and some bearded dude. Her hand rested on his pec as she threw her head back and laughed a little too loud. I’d been abandoned in favor of facial hair. Rough, haggard, stringy, wiry pubic hair. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“Looks like you’re up,” I said begrudgingly.
“Don’t sound so disappointed. I’m decent enough.” His voice was laced with humor again.
“I’m sure you are.”
I shook my head and turned to pick up my pool cue. The Beard kept watching me, his eyes had a way of boring into the back of my skull that I felt resonate through me. When I turned around, he was chalking the end of a cue stick with long fingers and self-assured ease, while his eyes stayed fixed on me. He obviously hunted women like prey and, considering his face looked like something straight out of the year 1880, I wasn’t surprised. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes again.
When he quirked his eyebrow up and stepped confidently toward me, I settled for shaking my head instead.
“My name’s Graham by the way. Graham Foster.”
He held out his hand and I eyed it like he’d extended a rabid weasel.
“I know who you are.” The very idea that he had probably run his hand through his beard kept mine in place. He probably grabbed his balls then stroked his chin and that made my stomach turn.
I bent back down and his crotch was in view again. His big, bulging, about to break free of his denim crotch. Apparently, my snatch was more alive than I’d originally thought. Even the hint of a giant salami made my knees falter. I shook my head and blew out a deep breath before I took a shot. The balls hit against each other with a crisp clack and then shot across the table.
“Are you a Seattle Sounders fan or something?” His laugh was still peeking out through his voice.
“Nah. I prefer Euro Leagues, actually, but the Timbers do just fine for an evening of entertainment.” I pocketed another stripe then shrugged.
“An evening of entertainment? Wow.” He laughed and it was husky, warm, almost like a blanket you could cuddle into during a Pacific Northwest winter. I wanted to lose myself in that laugh. “That’s all you see when you watch me? I’m like an old episode of Friends or something?”
“I was always partial to Sex and the City or Gossip Girl, but yeah, essentially.”
I nailed two balls in before missing. Only then did I stand and meet his gaze.
“You always this hard on a guy trying to buy you a drink?” He watched me plop onto a stool before bending over to work the solids.
I was treated to the perfect ass-shelf again and everything below my belly button clenched. He hit in two balls, each shot making his muscles ripple beneath his perfectly fitting clothes before missing a third. He’d made his way over toward my perch for the botched shot and, when he stood, we were almost pressed against each other. He turned, putting his chiseled chest smack in front of me. I sucked in a deep breath in spite of myself.
“I have a drink,” I stammered.
He wordlessly pulled it from my hand and slugged it back.


Excerpt Four: Fortune Favors the Beard by Alexis Alvarez

I got you a present.” I smile at him and bounce on my toes.
“Oh, you did?” His voice goes low and husky. “Can I unwrap it right now?” He undoes the top button of my blouse and flicks the material aside. “Can I guess what it is?” He drops a kiss onto my neck, letting his lips linger.
I close my eyes and sigh, enjoying the feel of his mouth and his hands on my body. “Of course. You get three tries.”
“Oh, I do? Just three?” He opens another button and cups my breast through the bra. “Here’s one.” He reaches back to squeeze my ass. “Two.” Then he strokes the front of my skirt right at the apex of my thighs, a touch that melts me even through the fabric. “And three. How about these three?”
“Good choices,” I murmur, grabbing both of his ass cheeks through his jeans. I’ll never get tired of his ass – so hard and sexy. “But there’s something else, too.”
“Something else? Really?” He bites my earlobe and I squeak out.
“A real thing! A present.”
“Oh, this is as real as it gets,” he argues, and smacks my ass once.
I yelp. “Something in a box.”
“I want the box,” he agrees, and laughs, rubbing more insistently.
I push his hand back. “First you can open this, though. Then you can have my…box. You’re gross.”
“You love it.” He’s arrogant and confident and he’s right. I do love it. But I really want to give him his present.
I grab a gift bag from the counter and thrust it at him. “Here. You can open it now.”
“For me?” His face lights up, eager, like a kid at Christmas, and he grabs out the fluffed up tissue paper and tosses it to the floor. “I still have no idea why you women put this crap in here.” But he’s pawing through it to get to the prize. “What it is?” He pulls out the small black velvet box and shakes it. “I hope it’s a jeweled butt plug that I get to put into your ass.”
“Stop! It’s not that. If I get you that, you’re not going to find it in a box. I’ll surprise you by wearing it to bed one night.”
His hands freeze on the bag. “Really?” I’ve never heard a more interested voice.



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