Saturday, December 10, 2016

Grand Finale Book Tour ~ Silver River Secrets by Linda Hope Lee

On Tour with Prism Book Tours.

Book Tour Grand Finale for
Silver River Secrets
By Linda Hope Lee

We hope you enjoyed the excerpts from Lacey's and Rory's story and readers' reviews!

If you missed any of the stops or entering the giveaway, go check them out now...

Launch - Note from the Author

I often get ideas for stories from a setting, and such was the case with Silver River Secrets. On a trip to Idaho, I visited a small town nestled between two mountain ranges and bordered by a beautiful river. An old, two-story farmhouse there caught my eye. An abandoned house, built in the ‘forties and still standing, even though in disrepair.

“SHE’S B-A-ACK,” Sam Porter announced.

“That so?” Rory Dalton didn’t bother to look up from under the hood of Sam’s ’66 Ford Mustang. Instead, he focused on installing the car’s new water pump.

“Yep. She’s just about to head over the bridge. Aren’t you gonna come look?”

Just then, she looked up to the hilltop. Rory jumped back, hoping she hadn’t spotted him. He didn’t want her to think he had the slightest interest in her return to Silver River.

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Wonder how long she’ll be here this time.”

“She never stays more than a week. Just long enough to check on her grandmother.”

I Am A Reader - Excerpt

LACEY MORGAN HEADED down Main Street with the image of Rory Dalton imprinted on her mind. She hadn’t intended to look up at his auto shop when she rounded that last curve in the highway, but she had, and there he had been, gazing down at her as though he’d been waiting for her to drive by. Which was crazy. Why should he care that she’d come to town again? He knew she made the trip from Boise to Silver River periodically to visit her grandmother. When their paths crossed, they said little more than a brief “hello.”

Heidi Reads... - Excerpt

“But to be reminded whenever you look out the window...”

“Sophie, not a day goes by that I don’t think about what happened in that house.”

“I’m sorry, honey, so sorry. But I do wish you could put the past behind you.”

Lacey shook her head and bit her lower lip. “Not possible.”

Sophie stepped close and put her arm around Lacey’s shoulders. “You know Hugh and I were friends with your parents, hon. We used to go out together. And, okay, your dad was a hothead sometimes, but we put up with him. No question we loved your mom. Nobody mourned her death more than we did. I miss her to this day. But don’t you think it’s time for you to move on?”

“If only I could prove his innocence...”

“Let it go, Lacey.”

Lacey squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

"This book did a good job of capturing and holding my attention. I really enjoyed the story. . . . I would definitely recommend this book to all readers. I give it a literary rating of 5/5."

Falling Leaves - Excerpt

Lacey sighed. “I just don’t feel comfortable in this town.”

“I know, honey. Sometimes, when I get to thinking about the past, I don’t, either.” Gram looked down at her hands.

“But it’s different for you. Having your son-in-law accused of murder is not the same as having your father, your flesh and blood, accused.”

“Not accused, dear. Convicted,” Gram said in a reproving tone.

"If I had just one word for this book it would probably be gentle. Harlequin Heartwarming line is perfect for a gentle, clean romance. This book has a bit of mystery thrown in but it never became heart pounding or intense. It stayed well within the gentle and calm boundaries."

Silver River SecretsSilver River Secrets

by Linda Hope Lee

Adult Contemporary Romance

Mass Market Paperback & ebook, 384 pages

December 1st 2016 by Harlequin Heartwarming

Tragedy made them strangers. The truth could change that…

Lacey Morgan's grandmother is the only reason she has to ever set foot in Silver River. Her hometown is populated with too many ghosts and memories. Too many painful reminders. Including Rory Dalton.

In all her brief visits over the past ten years, they've barely spoken. Locked on opposite sides of the tragedy that tore their lives apart, they buried their feelings along with their parents. But this trip is different. She will stay a little longer. Dig a little deeper. And try to solve the mystery that has kept them from the truth…and each other.

Linda Hope Lee writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and mysteries. She enjoys traveling especially to small towns in search of story ideas. She's also an artist, specializing in watercolor, pen and ink, and colored pencil. Photography provides inspiration for both her writing and her art. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, where many of her stories are set.

Tour Giveaway

- 1 winner will receive a $50 Amazon eGift Card & copy of SILVER RIVER SECRETS by Linda Hope Lee (print if US, ebook if international)

- 3 winners will receive a copy of SILVER RIVER SECRETS by Linda Hope Lee (print if US, ebook if international)

- Open internationally

- Ends December 12th

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Book Blitz ~ Discord - Echoes of Earth: Book 1 by Katy Haye

Virtual Tour & Giveaway ~ Raphael's Fling - A Darcy Brothers Romance by Alix Nichols

a swoony
bad-boy hero, laugh-out-loud moments 

and a happily-ever-after.

A Darcy Brother's Romance
Alix Nichols
Released Nov 17th, 2016

My name
is Mia Stoll and I dream about publishing a monograph on medieval Paris.
Problem is, I’m better qualified for writing a handbook on how to go from a
budding scholar to a pregnant runaway in three easy steps. 

- - -

My sister Eva carries a torch for the wrong man. Here’s the gist of my sermons
to her: “Drooling over your hunky astronaut boss is a loser’s trek to Calamity
with three stops along the way: Heartbreak, Job Loss, and Spinsterhood.”

The thing is, I’m in a terrible—you could even say impossible—position to
lecture Eva.

I’m attracted to my own boss.

Raphael d’Arcy is funny, smart, and uber-rich. He’s also smoking hot. That
alone should have scared me away, were I not such a dolt, my academic
achievements notwithstanding.

But there’s more.

Raphael is France’s most notorious playboy who doesn’t do relationships. He
does one-night stands. If sufficiently intrigued, he might do a fling. Which is
the most I could ever hope to have with him—a short-lived fling.

So what, right? It’s not the end of the world.

But consider this: Getting my heart broken by Raphael d’Arcy is the least of
my worries. Some very serious merde has been piling up in my
life lately.

And it’s about to hit the fan.

RAPHAEL'S FLING is a sexy standalone romantic comedy. No cliffhangers.
GUARANTEED: a swoony bad-boy hero, laugh-out-loud moments and a


How did I come to this?

I sigh, smooth my clothes one last time, and head for the cream leather-padded door.

“Mia, wait!” Raphael calls after me.

I halt and turn around.

He opens his chiseled mouth as if to say something, then shuts it, and gives me a tight smile. The smile of a person having second thoughts on the advisability of what he was going to say.

Well, I’m not waiting around for the result of his inner deliberation.

There are two bulky reports on my desk and a few dozen emails I need to go through before I can leave tonight. Ergo, time is of the essence. Ergo, I resume my hike across Raphael’s vast office until I reach the door. It unlocks smoothly and without a sound, bless its high-tech heart. A sneak peek into the hall to check if the coast is clear, and I slip away without saying good-bye to Raphael or Anne-Marie, his faithful PA.

Just like a lawbreaker.

Well, maybe not a lawbreaker, but definitely a reoffending violator of the Workplace Code of Honor. In particular, of Rule #1 which says: “Workers shall not have sexual intercourse with their hierarchical superiors, inferiors, or posteriors.”

While there’s some controversy over the exact meaning of “inferiors” and “posteriors,” everyone knows that a “superior” is more than just your immediate boss. The concept also covers your boss’s boss, your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss and the Boss of Them All, the CEO.

It’s a very sensible provision, by the way, and one which I totally approve of and adhere to.

As I rush down the hallway, my heels clicking on the marble floor, I realize I should’ve put my observation in the past tense. As in “I used to adhere to.”

Having repeatedly broken the Code’s first rule since March makes me a rogue and a hypocrite of the worst kind.

How did I fall so low?

Here’s a clue: it’s Rudolph the Reindeer’s fault.

God knows, I hadn’t planned on this when I landed the world’s most unexceptional job as assistant to the daily bulletin editor at DCA Paris. DCA stands for “D’Arcy Consulting and Audit.” Yup, the “d’Arcy” that’s sandwiched between “Raphael” and the rest of his fancy name on my lover’s official letterhead paper.

Having sexual intercourse with Raphael d’Arcy du Grand-Thouars de Saint-Maurice, a gentleman and a libertine, was the last thing on my mind when I started at DCA. In fact, it was nowhere near my mind.

Despite my murky past, that’s not who I am. Nor does my life need more complications right now.

Trust me.

Pauline Cordier’s familiar silhouette takes shape at the end of the hallway just as I reach the elevator and push the button. My heart skips a beat. If my direct supervisor sees me on this floor, she’ll assume one of the following two things: A. My presence here is work-related, meaning I’m going over her head; B. My presence here has nothing to do with work, meaning I’m sleeping with one of the senior managers.

Needless to say, both alternatives are equally conducive to me getting sidelined, ostracized, and ultimately fired.

I take a deep breath and give the approaching figure a furtive glance.

It isn’t Pauline.

The woman doesn’t even look like her at this distance.


You may not believe me, but I wasn’t sure what Raphael d’Arcy looked like when DCA hired me. Having scanned his official bio in preparation for my job interview, I had formed a vague image which boiled down to “young, well-born and well-dressed.” The specifics of the Founding CEO’s background and appearance hadn’t lingered in my mind. I doubt they’d even entered it.

Because they were not important.

All I wanted from Monsieur d’Arcy was a job at his firm that gave me a monthly paycheck to complement the pittance my school calls a scholarship. That way, I could finish my doctoral program without having to sleep under bridges or borrow money.

Parisian bridges can be drafty, you see. And damp. As for the stench courtesy of well-groomed dogs and ill-groomed humans, don’t even get me started! On top of all that, bridges offer no suitable storage space for research notes, photocopies, and books.

In short, they suck as accommodations.

As for the borrowing, my parents taught Eva and me that debt must be avoided at all costs. Their “debt is bad” precept proved stronger than the knowledge that everyone lives on credit in Western societies today.

Except my parents, that is.

Then again, they live in rural Alsace. Life’s a lot cheaper there than in la capitale, so they were able to make it into their fifties without a single loan to cloud their horizon.

My phone rings as I step off the elevator on the second floor, relieved that no one saw me in Top Management’s heavenly quarters. Considering that I’ve been sneaking out like this for two months already, the probability that someone will see me and that it’ll reach Pauline’s ears is growing by the day.

And it freaks me out more than I care to admit.

As I answer the phone, Raphael’s deep, sexy timbre breaks me from my worries.
“You left your panties here,” he says, sounding amused and smug at the same time. In short, his usual self.

“No, I didn’t—”

Oh crap. I did.

“I got five minutes before the managerial,” he says, “so if you want to come back and collect—”

“No!” I look around and lower my voice, “It’s OK. I’m sure I can make it through the afternoon without them.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. The question is whether I can make it through the afternoon with the knowledge you’re without them.” He pauses, as if pondering the question and then adds, “And with them in my pocket.”

My stomach flips.

Something achingly—yet delightfully—heavy gathers in my low abdomen, reminding me of what Raphael and I were up to a mere half hour ago. Suddenly, every step I take makes me aware of my pantyless condition. The friction of my skirt’s silky lining against my bare skin makes it prickle. My breathing becomes strained, and my heart thumps in my chest.

As I struggle to calm myself before entering the office I share with two other assistants, I picture myself in Strasbourg in our family physician’s immaculate office.

“What’s my diagnosis, doctor?” I’d ask after he’s examined me.

“Not to worry, mon petit! You’ll live.” He’d push his regular glasses to his forehead and put on his reading glasses. “You have a textbook case of lustium irresistiblum.”

“Please, can you make it go away?”

He’d smile and shake his head, updating my file on his computer. “It’s like a viral cold, mon petit. It’ll clear up on it’s own, eventually.”

And that, my friends, is the second clue to the mystery of how I got here.

It appears I have caught a virulent strain of lustium irresistiblum for lady-killer Raphael d’Arcy. And with my luck, we’ll likely get caught before it clears.

“Got to go,” I whisper into the phone and hang up.

I take a few long breaths to chase my arousal away before I enter the office.

Easier said than done.

The things Raphael says, the things he does to me… They don’t just excite—they break into my brain and muddle it up on a deep, molecular level. Throwing ethical norms against that kind of invasion has been as effective as attempting to shoot down the Death Star with foam darts.

But I’ll keep on trying.

Till the bitter end.

is an unapologetic caffeine addict and a longtime
fan of Mr. Darcy, especially in his Colin Firth incarnation. She is a Kindle
Scout and Dante Rossetti Award winning author of critically acclaimed romantic

At the age of six, she released her first rom com. It featured highly creative
spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper.

Decades later, she still loves the romance genre. Her spelling has improved
(somewhat), and her books have made Amazon bestseller lists, climbing as high
as #1. She lives in France with her family and their almost-human dog.

For exclusive content, giveaways and special offers, including a bonus book,
subscribe to the monthly newsletter on her author website:

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Virtual Tour & Giveaway ~ Taken by Cynthia Eden

hunt for a serial killer just got very personal . . . 

LOST Series #5
Cynthia Eden
Releasing Nov 29th, 2016
Avon Books

In New York Times bestselling
author Cynthia Eden’s latest novel, the Last Option Search Team (LOST) returns—
and for one agent, the hunt for a serial killer just got very personal . .


Bailey Jones
somehow survived her harrowing abduction by the infamous Death Angel. But while
her physical scars have healed, she can’t stop wondering about a woman she
helped to escape, who simply disappeared. When LOST agent Asher Young is
assigned to her case, Bailey instantly feels an attraction to the intense
ex-SEAL who seems to be carrying dark secrets of his own.


Asher can’t afford to let his growing feelings for Bailey distract him from
his job. Only she can soothe his horrific nightmares, but the last thing he
wants is for the demons from his past to ever hurt her. Bailey has gotten past
his guard, and the emotions he feels for her—they’re as dark and dangerous as
the past he doesn’t want to face.


When corpses begin surfacing—all marked with the same tattoo depicting the
Death Angel’s calling card—Asher must race to stop a twisted killer who wants
nothing more than to claim his next prize: Bailey . . .

“Bailey Jones . . .” Asher said her name softly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “There are a few things you should know about me before we begin.”

            There are things you should know about me, too. But I’m not going to tell you . . . or you won’t help me.

            “First, you don’t have to fear me. Part of my job at LOST—well, let’s just say Gabe hired me on because he wanted a bit more muscle. Protection is my role. I’ll keep you safe and track down any clues about that missing woman. On my watch, nothing will happen to you.”

            She nodded even though—

            I don’t believe you. There is no safety. I learned that.

            “And second . . . you don’t have to bullshit me.”

            Now she blinked in surprise.

            He laughed, a deep, rough rumble of sound that Bailey found she liked to hear.
            “You think I can’t tell when you’re wearing a mask? You’ve got yourself locked down tight, under careful control, don’t you? But you don’t have to do that with me. I’m not one of the North Carolina deputies. I’m not going to judge you. And I’m not some lame-ass reporter who wants to splash your story all over the world.”

            I wear a mask all the time now because something is wrong inside of me. It has been, ever since that fire. That hole. That hell.

            “So let’s put a no-bullshit rule in effect,” he murmured.

            Her hands curled around the steering wheel. “Liking rules, is that more of a military thing again?”

            “Wanting to break rules . . . that’s why I left the SEALs.”

            He’d been a SEAL? She turned to look up at him. “Is there a rule number three?”
            “We’ll get to that rule later . . .”

            She started the vehicle. “I’ll follow you to your place.”

            “Do you have any rules for me?”

            Don’t hurt me. Don’t judge me. Don’t pity me. Bailey cleared her throat. “I’m sure we can get to those rules later, too.”

            He slammed her door shut. Through the window, Bailey watched as he strode away—not to another car, but to a shiny, big monster of a motorcycle. He climbed on, revved the engine moments later, and that rumbling growl filled the parking garage.

            Asher slid the helmet over his head—a black helmet with a dark visor that completely obscured his face. Her heart beat faster as she stared at him.


            That had been her first thought when she’d seen him in the conference room.
            But he was on her side. Not a threat to her. He’d help her.

            At least, that was what she hoped. Because if something didn’t change soon, Bailey was afraid that the deputies would be right about her. Her shrink would be right.

            I may go crazy.

author Cynthia Eden writes dark tales of paranormal romance
and romantic suspense. She is a New York TimesUSA TodayDigital
Book World
, and IndieReader bestseller. Cynthia is also a
two-time finalist for the RITA® Award (she was a finalist both in the romantic
suspense category and in the paranormal romance category).

Since she began writing full-time in 2005, Cynthia has written more than thirty
novels and novellas. She lives along the Alabama Gulf Coast.

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