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Showing posts with label @MKDaytonWriter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label @MKDaytonWriter. Show all posts

Monday, July 4, 2022

Indie Pen PR Presents: Escape Girl by Michelle Dayton; #ReleaseTour, #NowAvailable, #OutNow, #TBR, #Live


Emily Saturn’s world is spinning out of control. When she isn’t working on an impossible lawsuit, she’s trying to avoid her soon-to-be ex-husband, Bobby March. But Bobby is determined to prove to Emily that he can be the man she deserves and has a very creative plan to win her back. 

Fans of Christina Lauren and Sally Thorne will love Escape Girl, a spicy second chance romance. 

 

#escapegirl #technicallyinloveseries #secondchanceromance #contemporaryromance #mustreadromance #mustread #romancenovel #oneclick #ebook #booknerd #newrelease #michelledayton

   Blurb:

  Emily Saturn’s world is spinning out of control. An intellectual property lawyer, she’s gone rogue from her firm, dealing with a major lawsuit against a predatory software company’s CEO pro bono. When she isn’t looking for elusive evidence she can use—legally, of course—she’s trying to avoid her soon-to-be ex-husband, Bobby March. 

After their whirlwind courtship and wedding, Bobby can’t pinpoint what went wrong between them. He’s been working for months on his new career and personal growth, determined to be the man his wife deserves. Desperate to get her attention, Bobby invites Emily to a series of individually designed virtual escape rooms, each one a moment from their love story. Hopefully, the sexy, romantic trip down memory lane will rekindle their intense connection—and clue him in on how to fix this. 

Emily has never been able to resist a puzzle. Or, frankly, Bobby. The more she interacts with her husband online, the more she wants to see him again in person. Which is beyond stupid because Emily knows he’s wrong for her. Right?

Read Now On Your Favorite Retailers!

Amazon US →https://amzn.to/3rRAMrm

Amazon UK → https://amzn.to/3LmnkUg

iBooks→https://apple.co/3rV3d7R

Kobo → https://bit.ly/3Lsyjvh

Barnes & Noble → https://bit.ly/3xTJ5a0

Add to Goodreads!


"The love story itself is stirring and emotional, and Emily and Bobby’s second chance feels well-earned."---Publishers Weekly review for Escape Girl

Excerpt:

The sun was low in the sky by the time he drove me back to my father’s house in Pacific Heights. He pulled his Jeep to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. I reached for the door handle. “Hold up!” Bobby said. “I’m a gentleman. I’ll walk you to the door.”
Grinning like an idiot, I dropped my hands in my lap and watched him jump out of the car and scramble to the passenger side. Anticipation rose like a cloud in my throat. We’d spent the entire day inches from each other without touching. I’d been able to feel his body heat near my skin for hours, but I still didn’t know how his hands felt. Or how he smelled. Or much at all about his lips. I mean, I’d memorized their exact shape and the many expressions they made when he laughed or spoke. But I was very interested in how they might move against mine.
I glanced around my father’s street and up the sidewalk to the door. If I accepted the job offer I had in San Francisco and moved back here permanently, I’d choose a place in a lively neighborhood instead of this rarified, ultrawealthy corridor. I preferred sidewalk seating at nearby cafés, people walking dogs, apartments with tiny, oft-used patios. But here, on my father’s street, it was quiet. The only sounds were that of landscaping and an occasional walkie-talkie blast from a neighbor congresswoman’s Secret Service patrol.
My father’s next-door neighbor was watering her plants on a spacious second-floor outdoor patio. She had a perfect view of my father’s front door, which absolutely sucked.
I wanted a kiss.
Not a peck on the cheek or forehead. Not a lingering handshake. I wanted a kiss to match the singeing heat I felt every time I looked in Bobby’s general direction. A kiss that would steal the breath from his lungs. A kiss where I could show him just how wound up he made me today.
Bobby opened my car door, and I resigned myself to a short walk up the sidewalk and a quick goodbye. But to my surprise, he didn’t open the car door wide and offer a hand to help me out. Rather, he opened it and then stepped inward, bracing himself with both arms and blocking anyone on the street from seeing into the car. “If I walk you to the door,” he said in a low voice, “there’s going to be an audience.”
My skin started to burn under my cashmere sweater. I wished I was wearing…less. My lips curved up at him as my gaze greedily roamed over his shoulders, neck, and lips. “An audience for what?”
“Our goodbye,” he whispered.

Copyright 2022 Michelle Dayton

About Michelle Dayton:

There are only three things Michelle Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an adult beverage.

This promotional event is brought to you by Indie Pen PR

Tuesday, June 28, 2022

Indie Pen PR Presents: Escape Girl by Michelle Dayton; #ReleaseBlitz, #NowAvailable, #OutNow, #TBR, #Live


Emily Saturn’s world is spinning out of control. When she isn’t working on an impossible lawsuit, she’s trying to avoid her soon-to-be ex-husband, Bobby March. But Bobby is determined to prove to Emily that he can be the man she deserves and has a very creative plan to win her back. Fans of Christina Lauren and Sally Thorne will love Escape Girl, a spicy second chance romance. 

 

#escapegirl #technicallyinloveseries #secondchanceromance #contemporaryromance #mustreadromance #mustread #romancenovel #oneclick #ebook #booknerd #newrelease #michelledayton

  Blurb:

  Emily Saturn’s world is spinning out of control. An intellectual property lawyer, she’s gone rogue from her firm, dealing with a major lawsuit against a predatory software company’s CEO pro bono. When she isn’t looking for elusive evidence she can use—legally, of course—she’s trying to avoid her soon-to-be ex-husband, Bobby March. 

After their whirlwind courtship and wedding, Bobby can’t pinpoint what went wrong between them. He’s been working for months on his new career and personal growth, determined to be the man his wife deserves. Desperate to get her attention, Bobby invites Emily to a series of individually designed virtual escape rooms, each one a moment from their love story. Hopefully, the sexy, romantic trip down memory lane will rekindle their intense connection—and clue him in on how to fix this. 

Emily has never been able to resist a puzzle. Or, frankly, Bobby. The more she interacts with her husband online, the more she wants to see him again in person. Which is beyond stupid because Emily knows he’s wrong for her. Right?

Buy Now On Your Favorite Retailers!

Amazon US → https://amzn.to/3rRAMrm

Amazon UK → https://amzn.to/3LmnkUg

iBooks→ https://apple.co/3rV3d7R

Kobo → https://bit.ly/3Lsyjvh

Barnes & Noble → https://bit.ly/3xTJ5a0

Add to Goodreads Here!


"The love story itself is stirring and emotional, and Emily and Bobby’s second chance feels well-earned."---Publishers Weekly review for Escape Girl

Excerpt:

One Year Ago

The painting was so ludicrous that I chewed the inside of my top lip—hard enough that the next sip of gin was going to sting. But if I didn’t control my mouth, it was going to shape itself into a judgy, bitchy smirk at our poor hostess’s expense.
The painting was of a woman’s back, butt, and legs as she lounged on a blue velvet settee. It didn’t reveal any part of the subject’s face. But it was clearly supposed to be Selma. Selma was a big fan of strapless gowns and asymmetrical shirts. The triangle of small moles on her left shoulder blade was as familiar to me as the shade of dark pink lipstick always highlighting her formidable lips. The woman in the painting sported an identical isosceles mole triangle, as well as a spill of hair in a variety of blonde shades ranging from honey to platinum. I’d once heard Selma boast that it took three colorists four hours every six weeks to keep her signature blend of hair colors perfect.
I cocked my head as my eyes traveled to the problematic part of the woman in the painting. She may have had Selma’s geometric moles and she may have had Selma’s intricate hair. The ass, however…
“Do you think this painting is a prophecy?” A question spoken so low that only I could hear.
I snapped my gaze away from the painting’s exquisite ass and looked up in surprise at the man suddenly next to me. “Huh?” I didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t surprising as I’d only been back in the Bay Area for a couple of weeks.
I would have remembered him if I’d seen him before. He was one of those unmistakable people. (Us generic-looking people often resent his kind.) He was probably mid-thirties, over six feet tall with thick, golden hair, grown at a shaggy length that would look stupid on most men, but it decidedly did not look stupid on him. He was tan like he’d just come back from a beach vacation, and he had deep smile lines around his eyes and mouth. They were crinkled now around his bright blue eyes.
My own were crinkled too, not with mirth but with confusion. “A prophecy?”
“A prophecy is a prediction, a forecast,” he began, eyes twinkling. Was he teasing or mansplaining?
“Yes, I know what a prophecy is,” I said. Snapped, really. I’d been around at enough of these nights to be familiar with the typical male attendees. The men near my age usually fell into particular categories: boastful start-up tech founders, schmoozy sales and marketing execs, and lots of “I know everything” lawyers. Most of them treated these nights like networking events or auditions for a TED Talk instead of parties.
I’d been so dreading my possible seating partners for dinner that I’d snuck into the dining room to see the place cards when we first arrived. Thank God I was seated next to my father.
“Excellent.” He waved his negroni toward the painted naked lady. “So I was just wondering if this painting is a heads-up from our hostess about certain impending changes.”
Oh. The mischief in his voice made my lips twitch. He’d been teasing, then. This wasn’t some stuffy ibanker or insufferable crypto bro. Inexplicably, this was someone fun.
I raised an eyebrow at him and spoke softly. “Meaning, Selma wants everyone to know that she’ll soon be getting butt implants?”
He grinned down at me, almost with relief, as though he’d been hoping to find someone snarky. “Perhaps the buttock augmentation is already complete.” He pointed directly below the painting. I hadn’t noticed the blue velvet settee against the wall, an identical twin to the one in the portrait. “Perhaps she’ll settle herself right there later and let us compare art to reality.”
It was just too perfect of an image: ludicrous, of course, but if Selma had one too many negronis, you could almost see it happening. Oh God, please let that happen. I’d suffer through twelve boring dinner parties if Selma would cross that bizarre, hilarious line.
A significant snort-laugh erupted from my nose before I could stop it. “Sorry,” I gasped.
His answering laugh was deep and delighted. “Don’t be. I love it when people snort when they laugh. It’s literally one of my favorite things in life.” Well, I loved when people got tears in their eyes at the smallest of chuckles, and right now, there was a sheen of moisture covering his.
“I don’t know you, and I usually know everyone at these things,” he said, like an invitation.
Sigh. Now I would introduce myself, and he would get that look in his eye when he realized who my father was.
I opened my mouth, but to my surprise, he cut me off. “So I asked four different people here who you were and what you’re like.”
My mouth closed abruptly. Why would he do that? Also, I could guess what the four people had said, and they were all sure to be wrong. I swallowed a sigh. “Oh?” This encounter had started so fun. Now I wondered how soon I could excuse myself.
He took a slow sip. “You’re Sven Saturn’s daughter.” Yep. For the entirety of my life, that would be the first—and sometimes the only—thing most people cared about. “You’re intensely smart and have some sort of big, important job.” OK, he totally embellished that point. I’m sure whoever he talked to actually just used the word workaholic. To be fair, that was also correct. Work was my place, my cathedral, my sports arena. Work was home.
He cocked his head. “And you’re very quiet and sweet.”
Of course that’s what they said. Quiet was correct; sweet was not. But when you’re a little shy with a heart-shaped face and round eyes, people always make the leap to sweet. In actuality, Resting Bitch Face would have suited my internal personality much better. I’m sure people were trying to be kind, but why is sweet a good thing to call someone? In our hyperaggressive, competitive world, who the hell wanted to be sweet?
To the man beside me, I ducked my chin. “Well, that was nice of them.” Where was the tray of negronis? Maybe I’d survive this night with a nice little buzz. Or maybe I could put on headphones and go into another room on the pretense of taking a call. I had Netflix on my phone.
His blue eyes were so bright. “It’s bullshit though, right?”
His gaze and forthright tone gave me a buzz that had nothing to do with gin. He tapped his temple. “There’s a lot going on in there, but I’m guessing that very little of it is sweet.”
Correct. Either he was extremely astute or… “Is this your schtick?” I retorted. “Find the quiet girl in the room and make her feel like she’s some sort of secret badass that only you can see?”
He laughed. Hard. A surprised, loud, genuinely elated laugh. I did that, I thought proudly.
“Who are you?” he asked, and suddenly his blue eyes were…intense.
The direct stare right at me, the timbre of his voice, the way he drew a microinch closer. My skin went warm from head to toe and my pulse went thud, Thud, THUD.
I swallowed, and his gaze went to my throat and back to my eyes. He leaned even closer, then apparently realized that was not dinner-party-appropriate, so he backed up so quickly he banged into someone behind him. A slight flush crawled up his jaw as he recovered, but his embarrassment didn’t make him look away or change the intensity of his expression.
Did I do that to him? I wasn’t the kind of woman that made men clumsy, but I could sense it. He felt the thud, Thud, THUDDING too.
“I’m Emily,” I managed, remembering to offer a hand.
His warm hand took hold of mine, not like a greeting shake, but as if he intended to keep it. 


Copyright 2022 Michelle Dayton

Buy Now!

Amazon US → https://amzn.to/3rRAMrm

Amazon UK → https://amzn.to/3LmnkUg

iBooks→ https://apple.co/3rV3d7R

Kobo → https://bit.ly/3Lsyjvh

Barnes & Noble → https://bit.ly/3xTJ5a0

About Michelle Dayton:

There are only three things Michelle Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an adult beverage.

Follow:

Goodreads → http://bit.ly/3chZqKQ

This promotional event is brought to you by Indie Pen PR

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Barclay Publicity Presents: Strange Tango by Michelle Dayton; #SaleBlitz, #OutNow, #99Pennies, #LimitedTime


STRANGE TANGO 
by Michelle Dayton
#OneClick #SaleAlert


We are excited to announce that STRANGE TANGO is currently on sale for only $.99! Don’t miss out on this quick and sexy read. Snag up your copy today!


The first in the series of novellas, STRANGE TANGO by Michelle Dayton, follows the story of Adam, a professional jewel thief and Jess, a brilliant technologist and disgraced whistleblower. Find out what happens when they must work together on a diamond heist, despite the fact that they’re on opposite sides of the law. Fans of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series and the In Death series by JD Robb will love this light and sexy story featuring a bad guys with a heart of gold.


Synopsis:


Adam Patrick Henry, professional jewel thief, knows an amateur—and a cheap wig—when he sees one. The mysterious woman across the room is far from a pro, but her good instincts might come in handy on his next job. He could use a partner, and if that partner happens to be irresistible, all the better.  
Jessica Hughes has a long way to climb—and a whole lot to prove—before she's back where she belongs. A cruel setup cost Jessica her job and her reputation, and she's not opposed to a disguise and some underhanded tactics if it means getting her life back. But she's no thief, not really, and teaming up with a gorgeous stranger who's clearly up to no good might prove more dangerous than it's worth.  
Working a job this big could give Adam and Jessica everything they've ever wanted—if their rocky partnership lasts long enough to carry it off. 
Buy Now: 



Strange Tango Series
Strange Tango: 
Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Google

Twisted Taste:
 Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Google

Wicked Stage: 
Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Google



Praise for STRANGE TANGO:

“Fun, with well-written moments of adrenaline, danger, and suspense” —Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

“The main characters, Jess and Adam, have great chemistry with an adventurous plotline that had me turning the pages so quickly, I couldn't put it down until the last page.” —Amazon Reviewer

“A fast paced, witty, and sexy story with smart, warm hearted characters. An exciting read that's fun from start to finish.” —Amazon Reviewer

This novella is a great read for fans of fast-paced romantic spy caper suspense. You don’t see many computer hacker/programmer heroines, so I was happy for the change of pace. I also loved the complexity of the corruption conspiracy the hero and heroine find themselves embroiled in. Typical Chicago. Despite its short length, this story kept me guessing. The ending is sweet, though not what you would expect. Definitely recommend.” —Amazon Reviewer

STRANGE TANGO Excerpt:

Copyright © 2017 Michelle Dayton


Jessica Hughes couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so physically uncomfortable. The wig from hell was so itchy her eyes were watering with the effort not to scratch her head. The sequins from the stupid dress were poking her in the armpit like tiny little daggers. None of the reviews on Rent the Runway had mentioned that fun detail. The sexy pink pumps that RTR recommended as an accompaniment to the dress looked great, but they also pinched her toes and heels. She was going to have feet full of blisters tomorrow.
And maintaining a British accent was a lot more difficult than she expected.
Luckily, the idiot she was dancing with had quite a bit to drink with dinner and didn’t seem to notice how she kept repeating words like “brilliant” and “fancy” and “fortnight” in their conversation.
Now if only she could distract him enough to get his keycard out of his pocket.
She glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. In five minutes the speeches would begin and he would be up on the stage for a half hour. That was her window. Unfortunately, she was running out of ideas on how to pull the keycard out of his front pocket without getting grabby. Uck.
He picked just that moment to run his sweaty hands down her mostly bare back and pat her on the bottom. She was lucky that her face was over his shoulder so he couldn’t see her suppress a gag. Luckily, she recovered quickly and gave an approving squeak. So gross. I just let Jerome Taft touch my ass.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Six months ago she’d been a star. The youngest VP in the history of the University. The boss of Jerome’s entire department. Thank goodness they’d never actually met in person. The University had three campuses across Chicagoland and he’d worked at the suburban campus. While she’d been VP, his reputation had been less than stellar. She remembered that in last year’s performance review, his manager had labeled him “eager for advancement but unwilling to put in the hard work required.” In other words, he liked to complain about his lack of authority while he sat around playing on the Internet all day. Exactly the opposite kind of employee she wanted in her department.
And now she was dressed like a pricey call girl and letting him grope her. She felt like crying. Or slapping him in the face.
Pull it together, Jess. Focus on the goal. He’s a necessary evil for tonight.
She glanced around the dance floor to make sure that no other members of her old department had decided to dance. For those who didn’t know her well, she was confident that her disguise was good. Tonight she didn’t look anything like Ignatius University’s disgraced former Vice President of Technology. The one who’d been led out of the building by security officers last October.
No, tonight she was a skinny, tan, tarty, blonde Brit. But there were a few people in the ballroom who had known her for years. If one of them got a good look at her face…well, that could be trouble.
Luckily, the dance floor was still safe. It was crowded with couples, but no one she recognized. The band finished “As Time Goes By” and transitioned to “At Last.” She sighed. She loved that stupid, sappy song. Trying to distract herself from Jerome’s hands and the ticking clock, she closed her eyes and counted backward from ten.
When she opened her eyes, a tall man with brown hair was staring right at her.
About five feet away, he danced with a brunette in a purple dress. For a moment, his open stare convinced her that she’d been recognized. Her pulse raced, and she started to sweat. But, no. After meeting his eyes for ten seconds, she knew she’d never met him before. Because, good God, she would have remembered this one. Wow. He was about 6’3” with broad shoulders and wavy hair. His eyes were a vivid bright blue.
The brunette said something to him, and he broke eye contact with Jess to look down at her. Jess kept on staring. She’d been looking for a distraction and this potent combo of Tom Hiddleston and Gerard Butler had given her just that. Men dancing in tuxedos didn’t usually look so…masculine.
He looked back up at her and their eyes locked again as the female singer of the band crooned the lyrics to “At Last.” Inwardly, Jess snorted. Probably every woman in the room looked at that guy and heard Etta James singing “At Last.”
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About Michelle Dayton:
There are only three things Michelle Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an adult beverage:

Follow Michelle:  


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