USA Today Bestselling Author J.L. Berg's first YA title, THE TATTERED GLOVES, is on sale now for just .99c for a very limited time! Make sure to grab it now at this price!
About THE TATTERED GLOVES
Head down.
Don’t look up.
Never make eye contact.
Those were the words I lived by growing up, the words that protected me in an unsafe home. But words are only letters and eventually even they couldn’t keep his hands off me.
Hoping to leave behind the shattered life of my past, I find myself in a boring, small town, with an aunt I’ve never met and at a school I loathe.
But soon I learn, not everything in this world is as black and white as I’ve determined. Sometimes those we are so quick to judge often need a second, third or even fourth time to make a first impression.
And often, there are friendships and even love waiting just around the corner, if we are brave enough to take the first step.
Am I brave? Or will I hide behind these tattered gloves of mine forever?
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Read a Sneak Peek:
My normally quiet nature seemed to take a backseat when it came to this guy. He made me angry, flustered, and… something else I couldn’t put my finger on.
Annoyed maybe?
No, that wasn’t it.
“What is your problem?” I blurted out, chasing behind him.
“My problem?” he asked, spinning around to face me.
Suddenly, he was too close. I could feel his breath on my face, his presence looming over me.
I took a step back.
He seemed to notice the unease settle around me, and a bit of the edge he carried chipped away.
His next words were said with a slightly softer quality. “Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but if the store doesn’t do well, it’s on me. My dad thinks it’s a waste of time.”
“And you don’t?”
I didn’t know what a rich, popular kid wanted with an old bookstore, but I kept my mouth shut.
He shrugged. “We have nothing in this crummy town, not even a movie theater. Last month, I wanted to see the new Marvel movie, and my friends and I had to drive thirty minutes away just to see it.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of Netflix?” I asked.
“It’s not the same as seeing it on the big screen.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I replied.
“What?” He grinned. “You’ve never been to a movie?”
The way he said it was meant as a joke, but all laughter died when I shook my head.
“Seriously?”
“I mean, I’ve watched several on TV but never at a theater,” I answered, not able to meet his stare.
“I thought you were from the city.”
My eyes flew up to his.
“Oh, so you really did think you were invisible. That doesn’t work around here, Mittens.”
My brows furrowed as I tried to figure out what he meant until he pointed to my gloves.
Mittens.
Cute.
“My name is Willow,” I corrected.
Sam just kept smiling.
“Word of advice, Mittens. The less you try to be invisible, the less interested people will be.”
I let out a heavy sigh, snatching the remainder of the books from the counter.
As he’d reminded me earlier, I wasn’t being paid to mess around.
And I sure as hell didn’t need life lessons from an over privileged daddy’s boy.
I hated this place.
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About J.L. Berg:
J.L. Berg is the USA Today bestselling author of the Ready Series, The Walls Duet, and the Lost & Found Duet. She is a California native living in the beautiful state of historic Virginia. Married to her high school sweetheart, they have two beautiful girls that drive them batty on a daily basis. When she's not writing, you will find her with her nose stuck in a romance novel, in a yoga studio or devouring anything chocolate. J.L. Berg is represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC.
Bound by Family (Ravage MC Bound) is a NEW Standalone by Ryan Michele! Rating: 4.5 Stars Told in the first persons. Alternating persons.
Disclosure
of Material Connection: I received this book for review from TRSOR Promotions and the
author. I was not compensated nor was I required to write a positive
review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am posting this
in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255:
"Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in
Advertising".
NOW AVAILABLE!
Blurb:
Cooper Cruz knows what it means to be surrounded and bound by family. Loyalty, brotherhood, and protection are all learned, earned, and respected by him and the Ravage Motorcycle Club family he grew up in. At the same, he’s a man, having fun and living the life he has always envisioned, until a trip to Florida changes everything.
Bristyl Daniels knows what it means to be smothered and bound by family. Bonds run deep with her father and all the members of the Sinister Sons Motorcycle Club she has grown up in. But now she’s all woman and wishes they would see she isn’t a little girl anymore. Then one phone call gives her a chance meeting with a hunk of a man she can’t get off her mind.
When her favorite band comes to play at a motorcycle rally in her hometown, Bristyl decides it’s worth the risk to sneak off for a little fun. When a situation gets heated, though, Cooper and the Ravage MC step in, setting off a chain of events, both good and bad in both their lives.
As the dust settles, Bristyl will have to come to some very hard decisions. Meanwhile, Cooper knows exactly what he wants. To hell with the consequences.
Cooper is a member of an MC that this author has written about
before. You do not have to read the
other series before you enjoy this book.
But to better understand the members of the MC you may want to check out
at least one or two books, if not all, of the previous series. Bristyl shows how frustrating it is to work
with family. She also shows the strength
she has in order to do what she wants.
Cooper is in an MC where violence can be used to solve some
problems.They’re also involved in some
questionable business practices.But
that doesn’t put Bristyl off on wanting to know him better.He may be all rough and tough but he does
have a romantic side.Sometimes a first
book in the series can get bogged down with a lot of information.But not here and I think being an offshoot of
another series helps with that.
What I loved was that the author knows just the right way to
lighten a scene and make you laugh.Something else that impressed me was how when our couple is together
they just want to concentrate on each other and all the MC business seems to go
away – even if for a little while.At
times you’ll forget that an MC is Cooper’s way of life and think of this as a
sweet romance between two people.But
that doesn’t mean it won’t get hot and heavy either or that “business” won’t
rear its ugly head.The ending leaves
you smiling and the author includes a bonus that will get you looking forward
to June when the next book comes out.
Excerpt:
Bristyl
Holy hells bells.
I’m not sure if I should be pissed that my brothers and father left me to deal with this mess or thank them for the gorgeous eye candy. Not that I would, because they’d have a fit either way, but damn. Maybe it’s my mom smiling down on me, giving me a ray of sunshine through this mess.
All three of the guys are hot in their own way. By the cuts on their backs, they belong to the Ravage Motorcycle Club. Here for the rally, of course, and will be gone in a flash. That’s how it is. What the hell, I’ll enjoy the view while I can.
I sop up the water and wring out the mop head, then repeat … again and again.
Ryker, who boldly introduced himself, is a player. Yep, seen hundreds of them in my day growing up in the club. Tattoos, sexy vibe … I bet he doesn’t even have to ask women, just crooks his finger.
The other man, who I’m not sure his name, looks a little lighter in a way, but I’m not sure how to describe it.
Cooper, though. My heavens. Talk about charismatic, and I got that just from the few words he spoke to me. Hell, I get it just from being in the same room with him. It’s like he oozes it out of his pores, releasing it out in the world for women to fall at his feet and beg. Then there’s the hair. I can’t call it light, and it’s definitely not dark. It’s a unique combination of the two; light browns intertwined with a few darker browns, giving his hair a shade I haven’t seen before. Like a caramel color with an edge, and long. So much so that he has a hair tie wrapped around his wrist. No doubt he puts it up regularly. I’d put money on it only amping up his sexiness.
When our eyes connected for that brief moment, the blue popped out in his. I also noticed some navy around the edges. That combination of hair and eyes … Be still my deprived heart.
The way his pants ride low on his hips makes me want to give up all kinds of things to get him to raise his arms above his head so his black T-shirt rises up and I can see what’s underneath.
He has tattoos running all up his left arm, disappearing under his shirt. I can see some black poking through the top at his neck, too. It piques my curiosity, wanting to find out what he’s hiding.
I shake my head and squeeze out the mop. It’s been way too long since … Never mind.
** Bound by Family (Ravage MC Bound Series #1) is a standalone full-length novel. You do not have to read the Ravage MC series to follow this book, but if you’d like to see where it all started, you really should. **
Ryan Michele found her passion in bringing fictional characters to life. She loves being in an imaginative world where anything is possible, and she has a knack for special twists readers don’t see coming.
She writes MC, Contemporary, Erotic, Paranormal, New Adult, Inspirational, and other romance-based genres. Whether it’s bikers, wolf-shifters, mafia, etc., Ryan spends her time making sure her heroes are strong and her heroines match them at every turn.
When she isn’t writing, Ryan is a mom and wife living in rural Illinois and reading by her pond in the warm sun.
Genres: Adult, Historical Romance, Fairy Tale Retelling
Release Date: March 15, 2017
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Pick up Beauty of the Beast for just $2.99
(March 31st only)
Experience the world’s most enchanting and timeless love story—retold with a dark and realistic twist.
A BEAST LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF HIS PAST
Reclusive and severely scarred Prince Adam Delacroix has remained hidden inside a secluded, decrepit castle ever since he witnessed his family’s brutal massacre. Cloaked in shadow, with only the lamentations of past ghosts for company, he has abandoned all hope, allowing the world to believe he died on that tragic eve twenty-five years ago.
A BEAUTY IN PURSUIT OF A BETTER FUTURE
Caught in a fierce snowstorm, beautiful and strong-willed Isabelle Rose seeks shelter at a castle—unaware that its beastly and disfigured master is much more than he appears to be. When he imprisons her gravely ill and blind father, she bravely offers herself in his place.
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
Stripped of his emotional defenses, Adam’s humanity reawakens as he encounters a kindred soul in Isabelle. Together they will wade through darkness and discover beauty and passion in the most unlikely of places. But when a monster from Isabelle’s former life threatens their new love, Demrov’s forgotten prince must emerge from his shadows and face the world once more…
Perfect for fans of Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty of the Beast brings a familiar and well-loved fairy tale to life with a rich setting in the kingdom of Demrov and a captivating, Gothic voice.
Beauty of the Beast is the first standalone installment in a series of classic fairy tales reimagined with a dark and realistic twist.
Disclaimer: This is an edgy retelling of the classic fairy tale. Due to strong sexual content, profanity, and dark subject matter, including an instance of sexual assault committed by the villain, Beauty of the Beast is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
~ Isabelle bravely takes her papa’s place ~
Quite a while later, as Isabelle relaxed and soaked in the hearth’s warmth, she found herself nodding off to sleep.
Her mind detached from the stress of the past few days and receded to another time and place. She recalled her journeys with Papa when she’d been little more than a girl. All the villages they’d passed through; all the faces they’d seen. She thought of reading fairy tales beneath a bejeweled sky, of leaning against a mountain of crates as Papa pointed out the constellations and their eternal stories—
Rattling seized her attention and ruptured her thoughts. She peered at Papa, who was carefully examining his teacup. Not with his sightless eyes, of course—but with wandering fingertips. The same impressive coat of arms engraved the fine proclaim; Papa ran his weathered fingers over its surface, clearly in awe of the raised gold decorations and studded gems. The thing must have cost a small fortune. Indeed, she’d never beheld such finery. Even the wares Papa had once sold paled in comparison. The faded brim of his top hat hung low and covered his glassy eyes.
Then her mouth went dry as he slipped the teacup inside his coat.
Has he gone mad—or simply grown that desperate? It was completely unlike Papa to steal. How could he—and after being shown hospitality?
Her outcry startled him. He half leapt from the chair—and Isabelle watched in horror as the teacup tumbled out from the coat. It rattled and rolled onto the stone ground, shattering into a million pieces.
A gloved hand broke through the darkness, quicker than a lightning strike. The hooded figure emerged from the shadows and seized Papa by his cravat. His other hand clasped a branch of flickering candles. The illumination flashed across the dark folds of his cloak, soaking him in a pool of light.
“Stealing from me, are you? Breaking my family’s keepsakes?” A sharp jerk forced Papa to his feet. The rough movement sent the top hat tumbling from his head and onto the stone floor. Papa’s waxen features melted into an expression of horror and confusion.
Her heart pounding, Isabelle lunged forward and frantically cried out, “Let him alone! It was an accident. Don’t you see that you’re frightening him?”
“Good.” The simple declaration threw Isabelle into stunned silence. Papa called out for her as the man strode from the sitting room, his solid legs eating up the ground in swift, decisive strides. Mon Dieu, he was physically dragging Papa through the castle.
This isn’t happening. It cannot be…
“Stop it! Stop it now—you monster!” Isabelle picked up her skirts and frantically chased after them. Parts of the castle were dark and unkempt, causing her to trip several times over wayward pieces of furniture. Her heart violently pounded in her ears. The man moved impressively fast; between his agile stride and sweeping cloak, he almost appeared to float through the corridors. Plopping onto the stone floor, his dog gave up trying to keep pace. Dust motes rose and fell in midair like ashes, obscuring her vision. She followed the branch’s illumination, watching as the candlelight threw prisms along the walls and floor.
“Please, monsieur. Have mercy, I beg you! He didn’t know any better. He’s not in his right mind. He would never—”
“No one steals from me.” His low voice echoed in the darkness, steady as a war drum.
Isabelle felt herself descending. She ducked as she crossed a low archway, where she was met with a steep flight of stairs. A mouth into Hell. The ceiling lurked unusually low and was strung with cobwebs. Isabelle hiked up her skirts, which were now a filthy mess, and raced down the decayed steps. The hooded figure kept a swift pace while she desperately pursued Papa’s frightened cries.
Plagued by the darkness, Isabelle tripped and crashed down the stone steps. Pain cascaded through her body, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her skinned knees and elbows throbbed, her heart pounded, her head burned. She spared a moment to catch her breath as she struggled to her feet and resumed her vain quest. Papa’s muffled pleas and the sound of slamming bars ripped at her very soul.
The dank dungeon was nearly black. She slowed her pace, moving toward a beam of light at the far end. Rats the size of kittens scurried across the stone floor and filled the darkness with their terrible squeaking. Her heart thudding, Isabelle rushed through the maze of cells, following Papa’s voice and that flickering light. Chains and crude-looking objects littered the ground—torture devices from a past age, she realized with a shudder.
She found them.
Papa was grasping the rusted bars; disoriented and frightened, he was murmuring incoherent pleas. Tears fell from his sightless eyes, though Isabelle knew he fought to restrain them. The branch of candles sat in front of the cell, its wavering light illuminating his terrified expression.
“Forgive me. I have wronged you when you showed my daughter and me hospitality and mercy. Please, monsieur!”
The man towered before him, silent and still. His long arms remaining crossed, he stood with his lean torso straighter than a broadsword. His hood was drawn back, though Isabelle couldn’t see his face from her angle.
“Papa, I’m here,” she said beneath the weight of a strained breath.
“I-Isabelle?”
Not sparing a moment, she dashed over to the cell—and the man slowly rotated into sight.
Except he resembled more of a beast than any man she’d ever seen.
Isabelle clamped both hands over her mouth and forced her eyes away. The sight burned—and the inferno in his gaze only kindled that fire.
Half of his face looked monstrously twisted; charred mounds of puckered flesh distorted the features beyond any recognition, draining him of all traces of humanity. Those heaps of burned, leather-like skin gleamed and glistened in the candlelight. His hairline receded on the left side of his face and slanted high above a shriveled ear.
Under the severe scarring, his age was more or less indistinguishable—though Isabelle guessed he wasn’t a day under thirty-five.
But his eyes were breathtaking. Two brilliant sapphires. There was also a great sadness and anger in those eyes, as if he’d suffered more than his share of original sin. Alas, as she gazed into his eyes, all she saw was blue ice—an endless, arctic landscape of cold desolation.
The man turned away, appearing greatly affected by her stare, and hastily rearranged the hood. His scarred hands trembled as he smoothed down the cloak’s thick folds.
“Release him,” she demanded. “He didn’t mean any harm. I—”
“No one meddles with my family’s possessions. He can rot down here as my prisoner. He ought to count himself fortunate that I haven’t taken his hand.”
“Your prisoner? This... this is a mistake! You must believe me. He’d never—”
A deep, husky chuckle cut through her plea. “Even so.”
“Please. Just let him out.”
“It’s too late for that.” Those words seemed to speak volumes. He exhaled a long breath, and Isabelle watched as it unfurled against the darkness in a cloud.
Silence.
“Why... why are you so angry? Why must you be so hateful? So cruel?”
“If I let him go,” he said at length, “what can you offer in return?” Isabelle couldn’t find her tongue. She wandered directly in front of the cell, almost in a lucid trance, and clasped the cold bars. Papa was huddled in the corner now, coughing and shivering. Guilt, unlike anything she’d known before, pulsated through her.
I’m to blame for this. And if Papa stays here, he’ll die well within a fortnight, likely much sooner…
“Get out of my sight.” The man’s voice jarred Isabelle from her inward stupor. She turned to him and stepped forward, raising her chin at a defiant angle.
I am not so easily broken or frightened.
I am a survivor.
She scanned her empty, dank surroundings: the cold stone walls, sweeping cobwebs, and blazing branch of candles. Despair encased her. Stark emptiness. She dared to step closer while a faint trace of pity bloomed inside her heart.
They stood centimeters apart. Heat radiated from the man’s body, surrounding her, immersing her. Isabelle vainly searched for softness in him, but only a dark, embittered spirit reached her. She stared up at his towering frame and gestured for him to bow forward. He hesitated, then did as she commanded. Her hands shook, damn her, as she peeled back his hood and met that piercing gaze again.
Half of his face was handsome—devastatingly so. In her twenty-two years of life, she’d never beheld such haunting beauty.
Jet‑black waves, rich and flowing, framed the chiseled lines of his startling features. Stubble peppered the strong curve of his jawline and shadowed a smooth, sculpted cheekbone. The right side of his face was striking, beautiful—a stark contrast to its wrecked counterpart. And within those patrician angles and intense eyes, she encountered his humanity.
His was a face of inconsistencies. Complex. Damaged. Predatory. And more than a bit intriguing.
“I will stay with you,” she heard herself whisper. “In my father’s place.”
“Isabelle—no! I forbid it!”
The man folded long, strong arms across his broad chest. His gaze crawled down her face and settled on the rise of her breasts—planting directly on her silver cross.
“I demand he’s seen by the finest of physicians.”
“Isabelle! Listen to me! I’m an old man. I’m dying. I—”
The man’s dark, strangely erotic voice cut through the cellar, and his eyes whipped back to her own with a startling force. “As my mistress.”
“What?”
“You must stay here as my mistress. For as long as I demand. Perhaps forever.”
Forever.
The word rang with a note of finality.
“Please, Isabelle! I beg you. Don’t do this!”
How could I endure it?
“Do as I say and your father shall safely return home.” He waved his cloaked arms with a magician’s delicate grace. “Your father—whatever family you may have—shall want for nothing. A house, clothing, anything they require. You only need to say the word. Your father will be under my protection—under the care of nurses and physicians—until his last breath.”
“How... how can I trust you?” And does he even have the wealth to uphold such a promise?
“You cannot.”
She had faith Papa would send help once his health recovered. Or she’d find a way out, means of escape. In the interim, she would survive this grim castle and whatever horrors it concealed.
Papa would not. The castle would crush him beneath its dark heel in a matter of days.
Isabelle glanced at Papa again, then stared into the man’s brilliant eyes. There, lurking within those expressive depths, she found the softness she’d pursued minutes before.
She sucked in her breath and nodded her agreement.
“It is done.” The man swept backward. “He’s to remain down here till first light. Then our agreement shall be carried out. In the meantime, I will bring blankets and food—”
“But it’s so cold! He—”
“Stole from me while he was a guest in my castle.”
He would not compromise. That much was certain.
“I demand to stay with him.”
“As you please.” He unlocked the cell. “Beyond the dungeon lies a labyrinth. Try to escape, and you’ll be lost forever.”
He tapped the wall with his booted heel. It swiveled, spun, and rotated, sweeping her captor to the other side...
Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing poignant romances that challenge the reader's emotions and explore the redeeming power of love.
Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel's passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul.
Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness.
Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words.
