Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Cover Reveal: Farewell to Beantown by P. Marie







Title: Farewell to Beantown

Series: Boston Belles #3
Author: P. Marie
Genre: YA/NA Romance

Cover Design: Nativesons Design

 Release Date: March 7, 2018





Blurb


The truth will set your free.
While Lexi Cole’s physical wounds have faded
her emotional scars still linger.
Determined to be stronger than the fragile
little girl she once was, she rises up to take on her past. For the first time
in her short life, she’s able to taste the independence she’s always longed
for, ready for the future with Frankie. However, when tragedy strikes, will
their new found love be enough to keep them together? Or will she be forced to
face the harsh truth. That not all love stories even those with your best
friends promise a happy ending?
Laughter, tears, unforgettable moments, and
family await you in this emotional farewell.










Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU



AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






Author Bio


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 34 years and her two fur babies, Tek and Tessie. She is the proud mother of
two adult children. 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.


Author Links





Sale Alert Roamer Book Three in the Nomad Series by Janine Infante Bosco

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= Blurb =


Cobra


I’ve lived two lives.
One full of innocence and one full of sin.
I mourned the perfect life I was born into and made it my duty to chase the phantom who stole it from me.
Revenge, mayhem and loss are all I know.
I am the lone man—I am the wanderer.
The former nomad—now, Satan’s deadliest soldier.
The two worlds were never supposed to collide. Innocence and sin aren’t made to coexist yet somehow my past bleeds into the present and I find myself facing my biggest regret…I find myself face to face with her—the girl who got away.
The girl I let go.
The woman I’ll ruin if I stay.


Celeste


Our young love was marred by violence.
Our guilt destroyed us, fate tempted us but, it was he who broke us.
They say time heals all, but all time did was dull the ache of his abandonment.
Now, dressed in leather, covered in ink the boy I mourned is now a man—a man tormented by his demons.
In another life we were everything to one another.
In this life we’re strangers.


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





= Excerpt =
 Red lipstick at Target - Copyright 2017 Janine Infante Bosco
POV – Deuce

There are two fucking things I despise in this world. The first is admitting when I’m wrong and the second is shopping. I really fucking hate shopping. So tell me, why the fuck am I pushing a red wagon into Target? Better yet, tell me why this was my idea? Actually, I’ll give you a gold star if you can explain why I’m not bothered by it so much either?
“I thought you said we were getting food,” Ally says as we step inside a shopaholic’s mothership.
Yeah, so did I.
That was the fucking plan.
I should probably stop planning anything considering none of them seem to go accordingly. Making a note of it, I try to place where I went wrong. Sitting in my room and staring at the wall that separated Ally and I was probably it. I thought putting her in Cobra’s room was a no-brainer. She had her own space, and I had mine. There was a connecting door in case she needed anything, but other than that we could go about our business.
Yeah, not so much.
The truth was, before the fucking world flipped on its axis I was rarely ever at the motel. Other than sleeping and showering, I didn’t do much there. When I wasn’t riding or fucking my way through life, I was playing the Satan’s Knights prodigal cowboy, shooting shit and digging graves. Not one to be confined, I was climbing the four fucking walls of that room.
After Ally’s moment outside the hospital, I listened as she relived another traumatic experience. It’s one thing to assume what she’s been through but hearing her say it—shit, that left me reeling. I spent half the night wondering if she was okay or if she was reliving more agony. I could have checked in on her during the night but I was too chicken shit. Sure, I was experienced in post-traumatic stress but not Ally’s kind. I knew Stryker had suffered after the war and there were certain triggers that left it impossible to obtain peace. I feared handing that helmet to Ally had opened the door to a night full of terror and that bothered me. I didn’t want to be the one who enticed her demons to come out and play.  I wanted to be the guy who gave her a reprieve from all that shit, the guy who could maybe show her there was a great big world out there waiting for her.
Like it or not, she was my responsibility now. Her well-being and her peace of mind was my newfound commitment.
That’s why I opened that door today.
That’s the fucking reason I sat on her bed and counted her freckles.
After realizing she was okay, that she was just bored, I should have left her alone and gone back to my room, but then we started to talk. Talking to Ally was an experience. Hell, you couldn’t go a moment without wondering what she was going to say next. One minute she was an ordinary woman making it easy to forget her story. The next minute she was the wounded warrior, holding onto a book of matches, fighting for the strength to overcome her past. I was getting whiplash trying to keep up.
What broke me though was when she willingly gave me more of her story. Trust isn’t something I imagine comes easy for her and knowing she trusted me enough to confide in me did something to me. It fucked with me in more ways than one. It made me want to rewrite her past. Knowing that was impossible, I did the stupidest thing I could have ever done.
I kissed her.
I fucking kissed her.
And Jesus Christ, her lips were plump and pliable—fucking perfect.
And her taste—fuck me.
Someone needs to create a word for how fucked I am.
Motherfucked isn’t cutting it anymore.
The torture didn’t stop there though.
Nope, it continued when Ally pulled out her ace.
She smiled and I folded.
Game over.
No fucking sane man could compete with that smile let alone one who had lost all his fucking logic. It was breathtaking and intoxicating all the same. Fucking captivating was what it was.
And like a fool, I wanted to see more of it.
“You need stuff, don’t you?” I ask, pushing the cart like a total jackass. Grinding my teeth, I make a turn and nearly take down the display of Goldfish crackers. Give me two wheels and I’ll make that baby purr, give me a horse and I’ll make her gallop, give me a red wagon with a bull’s-eye and I’m an imbecile.
Frustrated, I park the cart in the center of the aisle and turn to Ally.
“Take this fucking thing, please,” I grind out, taking both her hands and placing them on the handlebar. There, that’s better. Stepping away from the offensive death trap, I pull my shit together and focus.
“Coconuts,” I say finally.
“You want to buy me coconuts?” she asks, looking at me like I’ve got a third eye.
“Your hair smelled like coconuts the other night,” I clarify. “I don’t have any of that fancy shit back at the motel and I’m pretty sure your brother doesn’t either.”
“Oh,” she replies thoughtfully. “That was Reina’s.”
“Well, time to get you some of your own,” I tell her, scratching the scruff lining my jaw. Looking away, I take in the products on the shelf and pick up a toothbrush. Chucking it into the wagon, I glance back at her. “You see something you need you throw it in the wagon.”
“I’ve been shopping before, Deuce,” she says, taking the toothbrush out of the wagon. I’m about to argue with her when she grabs a green one instead. “I like this one better,” she adds, reaching for the toothpaste. She grabs two different types and studies them with deep concentration.
“What’s the difference?” she asks.
“Get both,” I reply automatically. She turns to me and I shrug my shoulders. Waiting for her to argue with me, she fools me and dumps them both in the cart. Her eyes travel the length of the aisle and she adds mouthwash, floss and some sort of whitening kit to the growing list of dental products. Once she finishes scoping out the aisle, she grabs the cart and pushes it down the next.
Following her down the aisles, I watch as she lifts things off the shelves and decides what she likes. A half hour goes by and we’re barely out of the toiletry section, not to mention the wagon is half-full.
Turning down the next aisle, she turns to me. A crease works the center of her forehead as she glances at the shelves.
“I never understood the difference,” she says, waving her hand at the condom selection. “Do you have a favorite?”
Unlike the toothpaste, I can’t tell her to grab every variety and give them a whirl, so I say nothing as she grabs a pack.
“Ribbed,” she mutters.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“You don’t like ribbed?” she questions, lifting her gaze back to me.
“Ally,” I warn. Quickly, she glances around the store, over her shoulder and back to me.
“What? Are people looking at me? I sort of feel like they are. You know, like I’m a fish out of water?”
“They’re not looking at you,” I grind out.
“So I blend in?”
Doesn’t every girl comparing condoms fit in with the crowd at Target? Fuck my life. Man, you can’t make this shit up.
“Totally,” I say, taking the condoms out of her hand. Chucking them into the wagon, her eyes widen and she pokes a finger against my chest.
“You do like ribbed!”
Gripping the wagon with one hand, I grab her arm and lead her out of the aisle.
“I thought you said you’ve been shopping before,” I mutter.
“I have, but this is the first time ever I get to pick anything out,” she says, pushing me aside to take control of the wagon. “Rush would pick everything out, getting me stuff he liked best. I had no idea there were this many choices.”
Christ.
“This store has everything, huh?” she adds as we head down the make-up aisle. I don’t say anything as she mulls over eighty-seven tubes of lipstick. Fuck, I’d buy every single one if she decided she liked them all. Then I’d kiss her like I really want to and smear those colors all over her pretty lips.
“What do you think about make-up?”
“I think it looks awful on me.”
Again, she smiles and I lean against the wagon taking it all in.
“I bet,” she replies as she dumps a few things into the wagon. “I never learned how to put it on properly. I always felt like I put so much on that at times I resembled a clown or one of those guys from that band Kiss.”
Unable to stop myself, I let out a laugh.
“What else do you need?” I ask, watching as she throws a tube of red lipstick in the wagon. My eyes dart to her lips and I imagine what they might look like painted that shade. She might not know her favorite color yet but I know now mine is undoubtedly red.






= Stay Connected with the Author =
Amazon Author Profile: http://amzn.to/2b98hQM
Book Bub Author Profile: http://bit.ly/2kXDpo1

= Cover Design Credit =
Cover Designer: JB's Cover Obsession Design

Model: Jonny James http://bit.ly/2EGkxag

Photographer: Wander Pedro Aguiar http://bit.ly/2kC7aKa



Other books in the series:


Drifter book One:
US:  http://amzn.to/2diAbdl




Wanderer Book Two
US: http://amzn.to/2pWdIql


Preorder Loner book four:

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Burn Me Release Blitz: February 6, 2018





Title: Burn Me Anthology
Authors: F.G. Adams, Janine Infante Bosco, 

Meagan Brandy, LK Collins, Tracie Douglas, 

Kim Jones, Kristen Hope Mazzola, S. Moose, 

Aimee Noalane, Kaylee Ryan, Mayra Statham, 

Shantel Tessier, & Winter Travers

Genre: Romance Anthology

Cover Design: Tracie Douglas, Dark Water Covers

Photo: Aunt Kris Photos

Model: Al Spinelli
Release Date: February 6, 2018

Blurb

Thirteen authors
have joined forces to bring you their sizzling stories-some sweet, some
five-alarm hot, but all for a good cause. Burn Me is an anthology to raise
money for Hope For Heroes Foundation, which helps military, fire, police, and
EMS personnel who've experienced life-altering disabilities while in the line
of duty. Follow the antics and adventures of these incredible firefighters in
what promises to be one of the hottest compilations yet! This delectable
anthology begs the question: Can anyone resist a hero in uniform?









Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU



Trailer






Contributing Authors


Sale Alert Drifter Book One in the Nomad Series .99c by Janine Infante Bosco


 ✮ ✮ ✮ SALE ALERT! ✮ ✮ ✮




✮ ✮ ✮ SALE ALERT! ✮ ✮ ✮


The first book #Drifter in the Nomad Series is on sale just 99¢ for a limited time only!

Grab your copy today!



#JanineInfanteBosco #TheNomadSeries #Drifter #ReleaseBoost
#DriftingIntoChaos #findthebeautiful



= Buy Now #KU =
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Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2kCiYMz
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Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2kBW3ky

= Add to Goodreads TBR = 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25215438-drifter



= Blurb =

Stryker

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.
Stryker.

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






= Stay Connected with the Author =
Website: http://www.janineinfantebosco.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/janineboscoauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JanineBosco
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/grassking205/
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1FJa8S3
Newsletter: http://bit.ly/29Dfru4
Amazon Author Profile: http://amzn.to/2b98hQM
Book Bub Author Profile: http://bit.ly/2kXDpo1

= Cover Design Credit =
Cover Designer: JB's Cover Obsession Design
Model: Matthew Hosea  http://bit.ly/2fMEkqu
Photographer: Wander Pedro Aguiar http://bit.ly/2kC7aKa



Other books in the series:



Wanderer book two:
US: http://amzn.to/2maumiv
UK: http://amzn.to/2nf83da
AU: http://amzn.to/2maovcX
CA: http://amzn.to/2masean


Roamer book three:
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Preorder Loner book four:
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AU: http://amzn.to/2FsopHB
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Monday, February 5, 2018

Cover Reveal: Loner by Janine Infante Bosco - Book Four The Nomad Series







LONER (Book Four) The Nomad Seriesby Janine Infante BoscoPublication Date: February 25, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense



Are you ready to ride with Linc and Kelly?
Happy Cover Reveal Day to Janine Infante Bosco - Author!
Check out the AWESOME new cover for

¸.•´✶LONER¸.•´✶
#PREORDER your copy now!
US: http://a.co/3Fjjxu9
CA: http://a.co/dOCvRBM
AU: http://amzn.to/2FsopHB
UK: http://amzn.eu/9pMi3Wx

Add to #Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2E3Fc3x

 

.•´✶COVER CREDITS¸.•´✶
Cover Designer: JB's Cover Obsession Design
Model: LANCE JONES
Photographer: Wander Anguiar Photography




#Loner #TheRideToHell #TheNomadSeriesFinale #JanineInfanteBosco



.•´✶#GIVEAWAY¸.•´✶
#Amazon #GiftCard!
Alex & Ani bracelet and an Amazon Gift Card


Giveaway direct link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/6dc324a810/?

.•´✶#EXCERPT¸.•´✶

Excerpt LONER © Copyright 2018 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco.

When you wake up from a coma and are told there is a fifty-fifty shot of you walking again, it’s hard to think about anything else. Nothing mattered after that. Not the reasons I joined the Satan’s Knights MC or why I took up permanent residency in Brooklyn. I didn’t give a fuck about the men who I proudly called my brothers or the legacy of Cain. All that consumed me was misery and suicidal thoughts.
At twenty-six years old, I had already lived longer than I should have.
Longer than I deserved.
I had survived both parents, my first love and the heartbreak of losing Pinky. I hustled and conned more people than I can count and pulled the trigger on more than a dozen lives and still, that wasn’t enough sins for the devil to call me home.
Well, I wasn’t about to live the rest of my life in a chair. Riding was all I had left in this world and now that was gone too. Everyone has a breaking point and having to ask one of my brothers to hold my dick whenever I took a piss was mine.
I certainly wasn’t thinking about my finances or lack of health insurance. When I learned the hospital was looking to throw my ass on the street—crippled and all—it was the final nail in the coffin and another reason to end it the nightmare.
However, committing suicide was a hard feat for me thanks to Jack Parrish. The former right hand of my father had a rotation of brothers guarding over me. Between the sea of leather and the constant flow of doctors and nurses, I was never alone long enough to go through with my plan.
It became impossible once Wolf got wind of the hospital's intentions to throw me into some state-funded rehab. The son of a bitch came riding in on his white horse to save the day, taking a mortgage on a house he owned free and clear. Not only did he pay my outstanding medical bills but, he also cut them a check for my last surgery where they removed the rods from my legs.
If this was a movie, now would be the part where I tell you I miraculously walked after that and all is well. However, this is no mainline cinema production and after the rods were out of my legs all that changed was the fact one leg had healed better than the other. Which meant I could balance twenty pounds of weight on my good leg. I’m six foot three and a hundred and ninety pounds—you do the math.
I regained mild sensation in my limbs but, that don’t matter much either. They still feel like dead weight every time the physical therapist tries to get me moving.
With no surgical procedure left to try, I’m being discharged from the hospital and the fate of my legs relies on an hourly paid therapist who doesn’t really give two flying fucks if I walk again. The doctors here have also referred me to a shrink—apparently, it’s alarming when a crippled bastard doesn’t clap his hands in elation after finding out he’s being discharged. I suppose to them fresh air is a mediocre consolation prize.
After being locked inside a hospital for months, one might look forward to being thrown into the world that chewed him up and spat him out. He might even find comfort at the thought of going home but, I didn’t have a home. All I had was a room in the Satan’s Knights clubhouse and like my legs, the explosion left my home, my bed and all my belongings in ruins.
Upon my arrival to the concrete jungle, I along, with the three nomads Wolf managed to turn, all took a room in the clubhouse. After the explosion, I heard Styker, Cobra, and Deuce had relocated to a motel. However, as a man who has been stripped of his independence, that wasn’t an option for me. The motel wasn’t wheelchair accessible and even if it was, I needed someone to help me wipe my ass. Wolf, of course, thought that someone should be him and while I’ve been wiggling my toes like a trained chimp at the circus, he had his other monkey’s—Stryker, Cobra, and Deuce— turn his house into a crippled man’s oasis.
Now, it’s discharge day. The papers have been signed and instead of rolling out of here on my Harley, there is shiny new wheelchair that offensively awaits me and a bag of clothes sitting on the foot of my bed that I refuse to have the nurse help me put on.
If I don’t comply maybe they’ll throw me on the street like yesterdays trash and be done with me.
A knock sounds on the door, dragging me away from my thoughts. I’m about to tell the nurse to go fuck off somewhere when I hear Wolf’s deep voice echo off the sterile walls.
“Why the fuck are you still wearing that dress?” he growls, curling his lip as he eyes my hospital gown with disdain. “Riggs is downstairs waiting with the cage.”
He grabs the bag of clothes sitting at the foot of the bed and dumps them onto my lap.
“The fucking clown charges by the hour,” he adds, clapping his hands together.
And you thought I was being a smart ass when I said we’re all his monkey’s.
A sane man would think better than to argue with Wolf.  After all, he didn’t get his name because he had the disposition of a lamb. Like a master predator, he lives amongst the wild and silently stalks in the shadows. He destroys anything that stands in his way and defends what he holds dear. Loyal to a fault, he is the heart of the Satan’s Knights.
He’s also a glutton for punishment.
But, so am I.
A fact we both surrender as we continue to stare at one another. This isn’t his first attempt at saving me when I don’t want to be saved.
“I’m not going,” I tell him definitely as I swipe my hand across my lap and send the bag flying off it.
“The fuck you talking about?” he grinds out, combing his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. The times have changed. Murder and mayhem have hardened Wolf and as a result, his patience has thinned.
“I should’ve died in that explosion,” I tell him. Balling my fist, I lift it and pound it against the center of my chest as I glare at him. “I wanted to die,” I reveal. “But, no one asked me what I wanted. No one gave me a fucking choice.”
Stryker pulled me from the debris.
Jack Parrish and his vice president, Blackie, gave consent every time they sliced me open.
And if it was up to Wolf, he’d keep tugging on those puppet strings.
“I’m done letting you motherfuckers play God. From here on out, I decide what happens to me.”
“Let’s get something straight, kid,” Wolf growls. “I didn’t lie to my brothers and sacrifice my loyalty to my club for nothing. I put my life on the line for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I remind him.
“No, your mother did and before your father killed himself, I swore that if you or she ever needed anything I would make sure you got it,” he fires back.
The instant the words leave his lips, he lifts his chin. Regret fills his eyes and apparent frustration wears on his face as I narrow my eyes.
“I thought my father died from hepatitis.”
“You and the rest of the world,” he mutters, scratching the scruff lining his jaw.
I’ve always known my father was a dangerous man. Being the former president of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club, he was no choir boy. He was a criminal. a hellion who lied, cheated and stole from others. A stone-cold killer with ice in his veins.
Since a young age, the story of his death had been ingrained in my brain and it goes like this, Cain was a drug addict. Years of swapping dirty needles finally caught up to the menace and he contracted Hepatitis C. Two years after he was diagnosed, he learned he also had liver cancer. The doctors gave him six to eight weeks. He survived two.
It’s the story my mother told me anytime I asked about my old man.
The very same tale Wolf has spun for the last eight years. I never had a reason to doubt him. Especially when every man wearing a reaper backed him with the same story. Sure, Wolf lied through his teeth but, I was never on the receiving end of those lies and every deceitful thing he’s ever said or done was to protect me.
At least that’s what I thought until now.
Until this very moment when all his lies—all the secrets he’s harbored—they pour from his tortured eyes like venom. The exposed truth weighs heavily between us and as before he can spin another bullshit story, I demand the truth.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask angrily.
“I came here for answers,” I remind him. “You were on the balls of your ass, desperate to save what my old man created and, I offered myself to you on a silver fucking platter. I figured I’d repay my debt and in the process, I’d learn more about the man who fathered me. All I got in return was a rap sheet a mile long, more faceless enemies and a fucking wheelchair. I’ve undergone the knife more times than I can count and, I can’t fucking walk. You owe me something!”
Silence engulfs the room as I watch Wolf take two steps toward me, closing the distance between us. Leveling me with a glare, he rolls his neck from side to side. It’s the first time I fear what will come from his mouth but, I’ll never admit that.
“Lies,” he calls, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Yeah, I was desperate. Yeah, I took you up on your offer but, don’t for one second tell me it was to repay a debt. I never asked you for a goddamn thing. Everything I did for you was done without ever expecting something in return. You chose to hightail it out of North Carolina because you fell for my niece and you needed an excuse to ease your fucking conscience after bailing on her. You want truth? You want answers? You’re a fucking pussy just like your old man,” he roars.
Anger rolls off him stunning me into silence. It’s not the vulgar comparison to my father that shocks me. It’s the fact Wolf knows about my relationship with Kelly. I thought I did a good job hiding my feelings for her. After all, I had succeeded in making her believe she was nothing more than a willing a body. A much needed distraction to pass the time. A reason to move on with a life I was tired of living.
She never knew she was everything that forced my vital organs to work.
The air that inflated my lungs.
The blood that pulsed through my veins.
Everything.
And when I closed my eyes, she was the glimpse of heaven I never deserved.
She was everything but the only one who knew that was me.
Me, and now Wolf.
“Wipe that look of surprise off your fucking face,” he growls, gripping the side rail of the hospital bed. His knuckles turn white and I imagine he’s wishing it was my neck he’s strangling. “I knew it from the moment she stormed into Sin’s chapel that first day. I knew it when you looked at her and saw a piece of yourself.”
His words are like gravity to my memory, pulling me down and grounding me back in time to the day I first laid eyes on Kelly Monroe.



¸.•´✶SYNOPSIS¸.•´✶



Linc

A man who can’t visualize his future will always revert to his past.
To where he came from and all the ways he failed.
The murder and mayhem that changed his life and darkened his soul.
The legacy of who he is will burn through his veins and ominously guide him to hell.
A place where he pays not only for his sins but the sins of his father as well.
A hustler by nature, a loner by choice, I am the spawn of Satan.
I am Lincoln Brandt and I am the son of Cain.

Kelly

Reckless and rebellious, I’ve spent most of my life running away from one mistake only to chase another.
At the end of my rope with nowhere left to turn, I’m about to make the biggest one of all.
Face to face with the bastard who broke me, I lay it all on the line for him.
My heart and my life.
Heaven is overrated and the ride to Hell doesn’t have to be lonely.
The stakes are high.
The risk great.
It’s do or die.
Together we’ll ride.
Forever we’ll burn.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, offensive language, and mature topics. Not recommended for people under the age of 18***

#Loner #TheRideToHell #TheNomadSeriesFinale #JanineInfanteBosco


#JanineInfanteBosco


.•´✶ABOUT AUTHOR JANINE INFANTE BOSCO¸.•´✶

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.

¸.•´✶CONNECT WITH JANINE¸.•´✶

Website: http://www.janineinfantebosco.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/janineboscoauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JanineBosco
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Amazon Author Profile: http://amzn.to/2b98hQM
Book Bub Author Profile: http://bit.ly/2kXDpo1