Heart wrenching.

My prayers go out to the people in that small town in Washington where yet another school shooting has taken place. There are signs that you should look for when it comes to depression in teenagers. Its our job as parents to protect the people that we have brought into this world. To be there for them and get them help if they need it. It not only breaks my heart that so many young people lost their lives, but it also breaks my heart that a child felt that there was no other ...way to solve his problems. It is grizzly and horrific. My prayers are going to out the families that have lost their children in this event, but it also goes out to the family of the little boy that did this. ‪#‎NoShame‬ ‪#‎SeekHelp‬ ‪#‎MentalHealthAwareness‬
If you need help there are numbers you can call if you cant find help at home...

Depression
Crisis Call Center
800-273-8255 or text ANSWER to 839863
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
http://crisiscallcenter.org/crisisservices.html
Depression and Bipolar Support
800-273-TALK (8255)
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
http://www.dbsalliance.org
National Hopeline Network
800-SUICIDE (784-2433)
800-442-HOPE (4673)
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
http://www.hopeline.com
Crisis Center and Hotlines Locator by State
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/getinvolved/locator
Suicide Prevention Services Depression Hotline
630-482-9696
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
http://www.spsamerica.org

Thursday’s Child National Youth Advocacy Hotline
800-USA-KIDS (800-872-5437)
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
http://www.thursdayschild.org
Your Life Iowa: Bullying Support and Suicide Prevention
(855) 581-8111 (24/7) or text TALK to 85511 (4–8 PM every day)
Chat is available Mondays–Thursdays from 7:30 PM–12:00 AM
http://www.yourlifeiowa.org

Bittersweet Symphony (Bittersweet #4)

Bittersweet Symphony (Bittersweet #4)By J.L. Beck

**Half of all sales of this book for the month of October will go towards The National Breast Cancer Foundation. If you would like to donate please visit http://www.nationalbreastcancer.org/ for more details**

-This book is suitable only to readers 18++ due to sexual situations, language, and violence.-

I’m a good girl. I don’t go out and party and I most definitely don’t sleep with half the student body. That’s what makes me and Ryder Winchester an unlikely duo. We should never work out, but yet I’m pulled to him like a moth to a flame. I want him, and I know he wants me.
He has secrets that I know I could never understand, but so do I. We all have secrets, things we hide from others in fear of what they would think of us if they ever found out.
I’m a bastard. An asshole. Most days I couldn’t give a shit what someone has to say to me. That is until I meet Kennedy Chaps. She’s different, strong, well opinionated, and completely naive to the person I am… My body, mind, and soul pull to her like no other. I could have her, but I won’t. I won’t taint her. I won’t shut out her light.
We both have secrets so deep that allowing them to escape would be like losing a part of the person we are. But as friendship morphs into something much deeper I feel myself confessing my secrets; things that could very well be the end of us.
Sometimes it’s about finding the right person to tell your secrets to.
Sometimes it’s about the risk.
Sometimes two damaged souls can’t heal all wounds, sometimes love is not enough. Hearts get broken, people lose hope, and love dies.
We are Ryder Winchester and Kennedy Chaps and this is our story.

 

His Cementery Doll by Brantwijn Serrah

His Cementery Doll by Brantwijn Serrah

Buy Link

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=13&products_id=683

Blurb

Conall knows the angel standing in his graveyard is only a statue. After all, he
carved her with his own two hands. Can she possibly be…alive?
There’s a woman in the graveyard.
Conall Mackay never put stock in ghost stories. Not even after thirteen years
serving as the cemetery keeper in the village of Whitetail Knoll. But things change.
Now, his daughter is dreaming of a figure among the tombstones. The grounds are
overrun by dark thorns almost faster than Con can clear them. White fog and gray
ribbons creep up on him in the night, and a voiceless beauty beckons him from the
darkest corners of the graves.
When the world he knows starts to unravel, Conall might finally be forced to
believe.

Excerpt

He hadn’t slept long before he heard sounds from down in the kitchen below.
“Shyla!” he called gruffly. “Weren’t you heading into town?”
No answer came from below, but the sounds of pots clanging told him his daughter toyed
about down there. Perhaps she’d decided not to leave him after all and taken it into her head to
now re-organize the house, since he’d so clearly wanted her to stay out of the cemetery. With a
low groan, Conall rolled out of bed and stepped out into the hall.
“Shyla!” he called again, coming to the head of the stairs. If she had stayed home, she
could at least do it without making a lot of noise.
“Shyla, I—”
He staggered then, as the hallway dimmed. Afternoon light flickered strangely, lightning
cracking a dismal sky outside, and in the space of time afterward everything else darkened.
Conall darted a glance around him as the house fell into shadow.
From the top of the stairwell, he saw the first whispering tendrils of white fog.
The heat of adrenaline shot through his limbs. Conall stumbled back into his bedroom,
even as the fog pursued. His gaze shot to the window as the last gray light of day faded away and
eerie darkness replaced it, like an eclipse sliding over the sun.
More cold mists veiled the glass, dancing and floating. Trembling overtook him as he
spun to find another escape.
He froze, finding himself face-to-face with the broken mask of the cemetery doll.
“You—” he gasped. His breath came out white as the fog enveloped them both, leaving
a space of mere inches between them, so he could still see her expressionless face. Gray ribbons
wound and curled through the air around him. “Who are you?” he asked.
The doll stared up at him. He sensed her searching, looking into his eyes even though
hers remained covered. She held him there with her unseen gaze, until her cool, cold hand came
up to touch his bare chest.
Conall let out a low breath. He closed his eyes, and a shudder of strange ease rippled
through his body. The cool pads of her fingers ran down his sternum, to his navel. The silky
ribbons brushed along his side.
Then he noticed her other hand. She lifted it up, to her own chest, and she held something
tightly in her fingers: Shyla’s stuffed dog.
“I made that…for my daughter,” he whispered. The woman with the broken mask tilted
her head down toward the small toy, studying it. For a fraction of a second, her fingers appeared
to tighten around it. She returned her gaze to him, then, and the toy fell from her grip into the
fog, forgotten.
“Wait—” he said, but she brought her other hand up to his chest to join the first, and he
recognized eagerness in the way she pressed her icy skin against his. Her face tilted to him, and
then came her lips again, ivory and flawless.
“I—” Conall breathed. “I…don’t understand…”
Her fingers slid up, around his neck, but he pulled away.
“No, this…this can’t real. I’m asleep. I must be.”
Gray ribbons danced, pulling him back to her, and she stroked his face. He sucked in a
breath at her touch and found his own hand coming up to brush hers.
“You’re so cold,” he said. “Like stone…but…”
Her cool touch thrilled him; it made his skin tingle and the heat of his own body sing.
Her perfect flesh did, in fact, prove soft under his hands, as if the contact with his worn calluses
infused cold ivory with yearning. She caressed his cheek, and Conall leaned into it. Before he
could stop himself, he bowed his head to her and kissed her frozen lips.

Author bio

The story of His Cemetery Doll has been waiting to be told since Brantwijn Serrah first
began jotting things down in her school notebooks instead of doing her homework. Conall
Mackay and his lady ghost have existed for Brantwijn, in some form or another, longer than
almost any other characters she’s collected. This tale of a haunted graveyard and imprisoned
beauty is, in Brantwijn’s opinion, a wonderful way to finally bring them to life.
When she isn’t visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and goblins, Brantwijn
fills her time with artistic endeavors: sketching, painting, customizing My Little Ponies and
sewing plushies for friends. She can’t handle coffee unless there’s enough cream and sugar to
make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she will never forgive you. She moonlights
as a futon for four lazy cats, loves tabletop role-play games, and can spend hours watching
Futurama, Claymore or Buffy the Vampire Slayer while she writes or draws.
In addition to her novels, Brantwijn has had several stories published in anthologies by
Breathless Press, including the 2013 Crimson Anthology and 2014 Ravaged Anthology. She’s
also had a short story published in the Cleiss Press Big Book of Orgasm and the anthology
Coming Together Through The Storm. She hopes to have several more tales to tell as time
goes on. She has author pages on GoodReads and Amazon, and loves to see reader comments
on her work. Her short stories occasionally pop up at Foreplay and Fangs, her blog at http://
brantwijn.blogspot.com.

DARKEST BEFORE DAWN by Amelia Hutchins

DARKEST BEFORE DAWN by Amelia Hutchins

Going through an apocalyptic event doesn’t mean the end of the world.
My dad is a modern day Noah, you know building an ark, trying to save folks and getting my brother, and I ready for the impending end of days – whatever that means.
Nothing in his prepper manuals had us ready for what actually happened.
I had nothing to prepare me for Jaeden and Lachlan. Heck, I don’t know of any girl that would have been prepared for those two.
There was nothing to prepare us for the things that go bump in the night or zombies, although now that I think on it, zombies might have been easier to deal with than what really happened. No, an apocalyptic event is just a set-up for things in our world to be shaken AND stirred.
What will rise from the ruins remains to be seen.
AddtoGoodreads!

Next on my TBR- Tipsy - Cambria Hebert

Tipsy  - Cambria Hebert

BOOK & AUTHOR INFO:

Title: Tipsy
Author: Cambria Hebert
Series: Take It Off - all the novels in this series can be read as stand alones
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 13, 2013
Format: Ebook and Paperback

Synopsis***This is a new adult contemporary novel and contains sexual content and graphic language. It is not intended for young adult readers.***

Julie Preston is an artist. But her canvas isn’t paper or clay. It’s hair. She spends her days coloring, blow drying and styling her clients hair at the Razor’s Edge salon. Julie is also annoyed. She went out on a date and had a great time, gave the guy her number and the jerk never called.

So when he waltzes into the salon and sits down in her chair she briefly considers strangling him with the pink cape she fastens around  his neck.

Too bad she can’t.

Blue Markson, the guy who never called, is a police officer so causing him bodily harm would be a first class ticket into the slammer. Just looking at him again makes Julie forget why she was mad in the first place, but she’s already learned that Blue is nothing but heartache. So when he starts coming around, acting like he hadn’t made her stare at the phone for days, she tries to brush him off.

Only…

Her life is about to blow up in her face, she’s about to get caught up in a sticky web of crime and the one guy who can help her is the one guy she vowed never to trust again.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18480355-tipsy?ac=1

AUTHOR BIO:

Cambria Hebert is the author of the young adult paranormal Heven and Hell series, the new adult Death Escorts series, and the new adult Take it Off series. She loves a caramel latte, hates math and is afraid of chickens (yes, chickens). She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair. She currently lives in North Carolina with her husband and children (both human and furry) where she is plotting her next book. You can find out more about Cambria and her work by visiting http://www.cambriahebert.com

Author Links:
“Like” her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cambria-Hebert/128278117253138
Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/cambriahebert
Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/cambriahebert/pins/
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5298677.Cambria_Hebert
Cambria’s website: http://www.cambriahebert.com 

Tipsy by by Cambria Hebert, designed by Mae I Design

Cover Reveal !!!!! ~ You and Everything After by Ginger Scott - #cantwait, #excerpt

Cover Reveal !!!!! ~ You and Everything After by Ginger Scott - #cantwait, #excerpt

We are so excited to share the cover for You and Everything After by Ginger Scott! Take a look and be sure to let us know what you think.

Title: You and Everything After (Falling #2)

Author: Ginger Scott

Age: NA

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release date: December 5, 2014

Goodreads

I’m that teenaged girl who has MS. You haven’t met me, but you’ve seen me around. You probably know my sister. We’re twins, and she’s the pretty one. Maybe you’ve heard about my reputation, how much I like to hook up at parties—how easy it is to get me in bed, get what you want, and forget about me after.

Forget what you think you know. I’m leaving that girl behind.

College is all about new beginnings. So from now on—I’m just Cass. And the rest…it isn’t written yet. And no one else gets to write my story for me.

--------

“Tyson Preeter doesn’t do can’t.”

That’s exactly what I want people to think when they see me. I am strong, invincible, confident, intelligent—arrogant. I’m the man who always finds a way around, over and through—until there’s nothing left. Since losing my ability to walk six years ago, I’ve relearned life. I don’t need sympathy. I don’t want charity. And I don’t do love.

It’s better this way, saves my disappointments for me, and me alone, and it saves my strength for everything I want.

But Cass Owens is about to wreck everything. She’s about to steal all of my strength away from me, because she needs it more. She’s about to break all of my rules, and break down all of my walls. She’s about to own me…completely.

And I’m about to let her.

*This is book 2 in The Falling Series. This Is Falling is available for review.

Excerpt

“So honestly, when do I get to kiss you again?” She laughs at my harsh left turn in our conversation. I love the way she laughs. There’s this rasping sound that comes from deep inside her that shows it’s genuine, and her smile creases deep into her cheeks.

She flops to her back, and I instantly kick myself for causing her to move away. “You’re really trying to wear me down, aren’t you?” she says, her hand running along the side of her face until she covers her eyes, peering at me through her barely spread fingers.

“Wow, well…I’ve never really had to wear anyone down before…” I say, shielding my slightly dented ego.

“And that’s precisely why we need to be friends, and why I can’t kiss you…” she starts, and I interrupt.

“Again,” I say.

“Right, again,” she whispers and moves her hand back to cover her eyes. I take this opportunity to roll onto my side and really look at her, the way her lips barely part when she breathes, the small twitches they make when she fights against her body’s urge to smile, the tiny movement of her tongue as it wets her lips. I have to kiss her again.

“But…and hear me out,” I say, startling her with how close I am. She uncovers her eyes and turns to face me, scooting back a few more inches just to maintain this new self-imposed “safety”distance.  “Maybe the fact that I am willing to work so hard just to get you to say yes makes you different.”

She stares into my eyes for several long seconds, her lips slightly parted as she considers this. “Am I? Different?” she asks.

“Now see, there’s the catch,” I say, running my thumb softly over the wrinkles in the sheet between us. “I can’t know for certain unless I kiss you again.”

“Oh really,” she says, smirking.

“Cross my heart,” I say, motioning my hand across my chest. “It’s in the handbook.”

“There’s a handbook,” she says.

“Uh, duh. There’s always a handbook,” I challenge back.

“And your handbook says you can’t tell if I’m worth your time without jamming your tongue down my throat?” she fires back.

“Wow. Again with the word slap,” I say, secretly loving this back-and-forth we’ve got going now.

“Word slap?” she questions.

“Yeah, like, you just bitch-slapped me in the face with your words. Word slap,” I say with a shrug. She holds my gaze after this and bites at the corner of her lip, her eyes squinting as she decides her next move.

“Okay, how’s this,” she says, leaning in a little closer, closing the gap in the invisible barrier she seems to have instituted when I started talking about kissing. “You can kiss me again…” I move toward her on instinct, but she’s quick to put her hand against my chest to stop me. I grip it, tight, and meet the dare in her eyes. “But not until you mean it.”

There’s a fire in her eyes when she says this, one that I don’t disrespect, and don’t dare cross. It’s not threatening, but it’s serious, and I have this feeling churning in my stomach that Cass Owens is what Nate and I like to call a game changer. Her words have my heart racing, my mind worried that I can’t mean it enough, at least not yet. All of our playfulness from seconds before has ceased with this line she’s drawn, and I will obey it.

Holding her gaze, I lift the hand I’ve trapped against my body to my mouth and press my lips to her open palm. I don’t speak, and I don’t break our line of sight. But I don’t kiss her, either. 

Book one, This is Falling

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