Blog Tour – The Drifter by Kathy Coopmans

Are you ready for Kray Brooks?

drifter now available

The Drifter by Kathy Coopmans is

NOW AVAILABLE!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/29xwBcD

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/29NIj55

iBooks: http://apple.co/29wvNmW

Nook: http://bit.ly/29DU3Wt

Kobo: http://bit.ly/29wvUyS

 

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To the outside world, Kray Brooks had it all growing up.

Wealth. The devoting parents.

The beautiful girlfriend.

Good grades.

All of it a lie, except her. The woman he left behind thirteen years ago to try and achieve his real dream… to become a musician.

Life doesn’t always go according to the plan you set out for yourself.

Sometimes, you drift. Become lost, lose hope and crash.

For thirteen years he’s been drifting wherever his guitar takes him, avoiding his past. Never thinking of his future.

Not once did he think it would all catch up to him. Until it did.

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“You in there or what?” Josh nudges me with his hip. His finger rises up to tap me on my temple, startling me out of my slumber. I stumble forward, damn near tripping over a guitar case that’s sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. I should be paying attention to where I’m going. There are many people here singing and offering up some sort of trick for money up and down this strip. Only the ones who can carry a tune catch my wandering eye for more than a second. Not that they all don’t deserve my attention, but the people who sing have a raw, natural talent. I become lost in their voices. Attuned. Familiar. There’s no sweet, tender, or rough and seductive voice close by. Therefore, whoever owns this particular case isn’t singing, or otherwise I may have pulled Josh to a sudden stop to listen before tumbling over it like an idiot. “Shit. Sorry about that,” I tell the man I notice standing up against the brick wall without looking at him. This is what I get for thinking about things I shouldn’t. “It was my fault,” Josh comments as we both bend down to shove the few dollar bills that fell out back into the case. The man behind us just mumbles something incoherent. I instantly feel worse for some reason. He’s worked hard for this money. In the heat no less. And here I am, scrounging around to make sure I gather it all up while assholes walk around me not giving a shit there are two people squatted down on the sidewalk. They just step around us, not bothering to offer help. Insensitive assholes. I reach into my purse and toss a hundred-dollar bill inside the case. I know most of these people spend their money on booze and drugs. I don’t care. Well, I do, really. They should be using it wisely. But who am I to judge? I only wish I could have heard him sing before we walk away. The talent they have is remarkable. It’s sad, really, how I enjoy listening to them sing on these streets for food, a home, or more than likely a fix of alcohol or drugs. I can’t help it; those voices carry me away. Some of them are truly mesmerizing. Wasted talent on a dirty street. I’m sure some are runaways with dreams shattered and hopes burned. This is the only way they know how to survive. The Hollywood record producers should listen to some of these talented people instead of shoving their lying butts into the faces of the fake boob Barbie to either get in her pants or rake her back over hot coals, sucking as much money out of her as they can. If only the rich would seek out the poor. To lend a hand to those who only think life has fed them nothing but shit. For these people to see that no matter how bad your life has been, if given the chance or a choice, you can become whoever you want to be, even if you’re alone doing it. I turn to the man whose face is darkened by the way he stands. His face is completely out of my sight with his chin tugged down to where it’s almost touching his chest. One black, shiny-booted foot rests up against the wall. His jeans hang low. He’s wearing a faded gray t-shirt that, if I’m correct, was black at one time. It also looks way too small, because my god, is it tight across his massive chest. He has shoulders any woman would love to reach around and grab as he lies on top of her. I’d give anything to see his face. To hear him sing. To observe and dissect his talent.

Book Trailer

 

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Photo of the woman covering breast on black backgroundPhoto of the woman covering breast on black background

drifter teaser for reveal

 

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kathy coopmans

USA Today Best-Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.

After raising her children she decided to publish her first book and retiring from being a hairstylist.

She now writes full time.

She’s a huge sports fan with her favorite being Football and Tennis.

She’s a giver and will do anything she can to help another person succeed!

Use whichever one of these you would like babe.

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website |  Goodreads | Newsletter signup

 

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Cover Reveal – Bound to Submit by Laura Kaye

Decadent… Sensual… Forbidden…

12 Masters. 12 Desires. 12 Fantasies Come to Life.
Meet the Masters of Blasphemy…

Releasing September 13, 2016, BOUND TO SUBMIT is the first full-length novel in Laura Kaye’s Blasphemy Series.

A Note from Laura Kaye:

Dear Readers,

I’m so excited to share my new cover art for Bound to Submit with you today! From the moment I met Detective Kyler Vance in the Hard Ink series, I was intrigued. And from the second I knew Kyler was a Dom in an exclusive club named Blasphemy, I knew I had to learn more. That was the moment the Blasphemy series was born, and now I’m just thrilled at how the whole thing is taking shape – beginning with Bound to Submit, which promises to be scorchingly hot and achingly emotional. I hope you’ll grab your copy. In the meantime, enjoy this amazing cover! And if you haven’t already, get caught up with Hard to Serve, the book that introduces it all!

Sincerely,

Laura Kaye

Bound To Submit - cover

From the ruins of an abandoned church comes Baltimore’s hottest and most exclusive BDSM club. Twelve Masters. Infinite fantasies. Welcome to Blasphemy…

He thinks he caused her pain, but she knows he’s the only one who can heal her…

Kenna Sloane lost her career and her arm in the Marines, and now she feels like she’s losing herself. Submission is the only thing that ever freed her from pain and made her feel secure, and Kenna needs to serve again. Bad. The only problem is the Dom she wants once refused her submission and broke her heart, but, scarred on the inside and out, she’s not looking for love this time. She’s not even sure she’s capable.

Griffin Hudson is haunted by the mistakes that cost him the only woman he ever loved. Now she’s back at his BDSM club, Blasphemy, and more beautiful than ever, and she’s asking for his help with the pain he knows he caused. Even though he’s scared to hurt her again, he can’t refuse her, because he’d give anything to earn a second chance. And this time, he’ll hold on forever.

“A searingly sexy story with some of the hottest scenes I’ve read in a long, long time. Laura Kaye shows her mastery of the BDSM world. I’m eagerly anticipating more in this bold new series!

~ Cherise Sinclair, NYT Bestselling Author of the Masters of the Shadowlands Series

Pre-Order Bound to Submit, releasing 9/13/16

Amazon | iBooks | Kobo

B&N and paperback links to come

Add to your Goodreads

 

 

HARD TO SERVE - cover

Meet the Masters of Blasphemy in Hard to Serve, now available

Amazon exclusive until September 2016 in paperback and ebook

 

Laura Kaye - author picAbout Laura Kaye:

Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty-five books in contemporary and paranormal romance and romantic suspense, including the Hard Ink and Raven Riders series. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. She lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and cute-but-bad dog, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

 

 

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter SignUp| HARD TO SERVE on Goodreads |BOUND TO SUBMIT on Goodreads

 

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Release Blitz – My Zombie Fiance by T. Strange

My Zombie Fiancé cover
Available Now:
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Edward Grey is no stranger to the undead; since raising his cat as a zombie when he was a child, he and his mentor Mariel have explored and developed his power as a necromancer. Despite everything he’s learned, as a necromancer and a medical student, he’s never encountered a ghost.

While Mariel is unreachable in Haiti on mysterious business, a ghost wakes Edward in the middle of the night, claiming to be his grandfather. When the ghost offers to teach him about this different form of undeath, Edward has little choice but to trust the spirit.

After receiving a phone call from a young girl claiming her father is possessed, Edward and his Undead Canadian fiancé, Kit, must travel to an acreage in Kingston…Ontario.

The haunting proves far more complicated than Edward could ever have guessed, and he finds himself pitted against an ancient evil determined to engulf everyone on the farm.

Edward’s love and connection to Kit will be tested, and his necromancy stretched to his limits as he has to find—and destroy—a twisted spirit more powerful than anything he’s ever encountered.

With your purchase of My Zombie Fiancé from Torquere Press you will receive a free copy of My Zombie Cat. eBooks purchased from Torquere Press include all eBook file formats, including Kindle (mobi)

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Edward, answer the phone.” In our hurry to undress so we could ‘get Kit to sleep’, my phone had ended up on Kit’s side of the bed. He passed it to me, narrowly avoiding smacking me in the face with it. Miraculously, it was still ringing. 

“’lo?” I managed.
“Is this Edward?”
It was a little girl’s voice, I thought. I didn’t know many little girls, so I made my best guess.
“Tia? It’s the middle of the night; I can’t come over to play right now. Isn’t it way past your bedtime? Go to bed. Bed is nice.” I closed my eyes, almost dropping the phone when my hand relaxed.
My neighbor two houses down has a very precocious four-year-old niece. She likes to play actual doctor with me—nothing creepy! I’ve taught her a few basic stitches for fixing her toys and dolls, though I suspect she may damage them on purpose so she can practice with me. Whoops. I also let her use my stethoscope and a few other safe, child-friendly pieces of medical equipment. I’ve heard her tell her aunt she wants to go to uncle Edward’s house, so I also suspect at least part of the reason she visits her aunt is to see me.
“Who’s Tia? This is Sarah. Mariel said that I should call you if it happened again. It happened again.” There was an expectant pause.
I don’t know anyone named Sarah, never mind a young girl. “Mariel told you to…? In case what happened again?”
“My daddy’s possessed,” she said, very calmly and matter-of-factly.
I felt goosebumps prickle along my arms at the word. I knew precisely as much about demonic possession as anyone who’d watched The Exorcist, and I had no idea what had, well…possessed…Mariel to refer this girl to me for help. “What exactly did Mariel say?”
The girl, Sarah, sighed deeply. She probably thought I was pretty slow, and at the moment I couldn’t blame her. “She said, call Edward, he’ll know what to do.” She sounded impatient, but not frightened. Maybe her father was possessed by something more benign than a demon.
Mariel had told her I could help, so I would do my best. Even though it was 3 AM and I knew nothing about possession. “What’s your daddy possessed by?” Not words I ever thought would come out of my mouth.
“Mister Jenkins.”
Mister Jenkins. That didn’t sound very frightening. “And what does Mister Jenkins do while he’s possessing your father?” Had she named the…spirit? It sounded like something a child might come up with.
“Not very much. He makes breakfast.” She lowered her voice. “Mister Jenkins is a better cook than daddy.”
Not much of a haunting, if movies were anything to go by. I envisioned a comedy, sort of like Three Men and a Baby, but with a ghost. Besides the one apparently caught on tape when they’d filmed that movie, come to think of it. “Does he…scare you?”
She laughed, high-pitched and genuine. “No, silly! I like Mister Jenkins, but Mariel says it’s bad for daddy if he stays too long.”
This was one of the strangest conversations I’d ever had, and I’ve lived with Kit for more than a year. And I’d dated Bone. It was even stranger than my recent conversation with my grandfather. “Where do you live, Sarah?” If there was a way to do an exorcism-by-telephone, I didn’t know it. Not that I knew any kind of exorcism, but hopefully I had enough time to find a solution before Mister Jenkins…burned toast or something. Maybe I could come up with something if I was physically present.
“Kingston.”
I had to go to Jamaica? If Mariel was in Haiti, she was much closer. I didn’t know why she didn’t just pop over and take care of Mister Jenkins.
Kit would love a tropical vacation—I wondered if his fair skin would tan or burn, or if his undeath made him immune? I wondered if he would be upset about it, one way or the other.
I was less than thrilled by the thought of the tropics. I don’t like heat, or the diseases that tend to accompany it.
“It’s in Ontario,” Sarah said, sounding very pleased with herself.
Oh. Kingston, Ontario. That was a relief, even if it was black fly season.
Great, now I’d have that song stuck in my head for days.
“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you tell me your address?” I would have to fly—driving would take several days, even if Kit and I switched and we drove continuously.
“No, but Mister Jenkins can.”
Her voice was replaced by a man’s, gentle and with a hint of a British accent. Part of his directions were, “Past Kingston Family Funworld”, which definitely sounded like a place to avoid. He apologized that he couldn’t meet me at the airport because he was bound to the house.
That was a good excuse. I wished I could use it.
My grandfather hadn’t been bound to a particular place, but he had reminded me over and over that he wasn’t a typical ghost. I wondered if most ghosts had a limited range, or if Mister Jenkins was unusual in that regard.
I told him I’d call when we landed, and he hung up.
I turned on my bedside lamp. “Kit, sweetie?” I poked him, gently.
“Mmm…”
“I have to go to Kingston.” It was a good thing I had a few weeks off from school. Hopefully I would get time to study during this trip. Study medicine, that is, not necromancy.
That got Kit’s attention. He gave a happy shriek and grabbed my hand. “Oh my God, no way! I’d love to go to Jamaica!”
“Kingston, Ontario.”
“Oh. Ew.”
“Why ew? Have you ever been there?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why—never mind. Do you still want to come with me?”
“Who calls you at three in the morning and tells you to go to Kingston, Ontario?”
“Sarah.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry! I’m still half asleep. This little girl, Sarah…Mariel told her to call me if her father got possessed again.”
“Mariel’s father? Is that why she left?”
“Sarah’s father.”
“Possessed again? Like, this is a regular occurrence?”
“Apparently. I have to book a flight.” I hunted beneath the bed for my laptop.
Kit had found his phone and was furiously typing on it. “Oooooh, Florence and the Machine is playing there! We can totally go!”
“Sure. Of course.” I found a flight that left early the next morning—in a few hours, really—and bought our tickets. “I don’t know if it’s worth going back to sleep; I’ll make us some coffee.” Not that coffee did much for Kit, except make him ill if he drank too much. Or, for some reason, if he used non-dairy creamer. It seemed to be some sort of…zombie kryptonite. I’d like to tell you I didn’t give some to Boo to see how he’d react, but I would be lying. The results: not pretty.
“What about the cats?”
Of course, the cats couldn’t come with us. While Winston could happily stay at the pet spa while we were gone, Boo could…not, and if we had someone taking care of one cat, it made sense for Winston to just stay at home. I felt a pang at the thought of being away from Boo for any length of time. “My parents can take care of them.” They wouldn’t be pleased—they’d actually thrown a “Boo is out of the house” party when I’d moved out, but they’d also get to spend time with Winston, and that was always a treat.
“I guess I’ll start packing. For both of us.”
He was welcome to do so.
In the meantime, it was definitely time to call Mariel. I wasn’t sure what time it was in Haiti, but I could definitely use her advice. For several panicked minutes I was worried that I’d lost the piece of paper she’d written the number on, when I remembered that she’d put it directly into my phone. I let it ring, over and over, but no one answered so I eventually gave up. Well, if Sarah had been able to get ahold of Mariel, she wouldn’t have needed to call me. Though she probably didn’t have Mariel’s number in Haiti…I’d just have to deal with the situation on my own for now, and call Mariel again when I had the chance. 

 

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T. Strange author image
T. Strange didn’t want to learn how to read, but literacy prevailed and she hasn’t stopped reading—or writing—since. She’s been published with Torquere Press since 2013, and she writes M/M romance in multiple genres, including paranormal and BDSM. T.’s other interests include cross stitching, gardening, watching terrible horror movies, playing video games, and finding injured pigeons to rescue. Originally from White Rock, BC, she lives on the Canadian prairies, where she shares her home with her wife, cats, guinea pigs and other creatures of all shapes and sizes. She’s very easy to bribe with free food and drinks—especially wine. 

She can be found on Facebook and Twitter by searching T. Strange, or you can email her: author.t.strange at gmail.com

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