Showing posts with label Brooke Blaine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brooke Blaine. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Blog Tour: A Little Bit Like Desire by Brooke Blaine

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A Little Bit Like Desire, an all-new STANDALONE contemporary MM romance from USA Today bestselling author Brooke Blaine is available NOW!


Blurb:
What if you had everything in the world you wanted...except the man you never knew you needed?

Shaw Jennings, the seductive, enigmatic owner of Body Electric Tattoo works hard and plays even harder. He’s built a life he’s proud of, and though that doesn’t include a significant other, he’s got plenty of sexy men to keep his bed warm at night. None of them have ever made Shaw sit up and take notice for long, though. But that all changes when a famous rock star walks through his door.

Trent Knox had the world in the palm of his hand as the lead singer of TBD, one of the biggest rock bands in history…until the day he walked away. A getaway to South Haven Island seems like the perfect place for Trent to find himself again and reignite his passion for music. But what he never expects is to find his muse in a six-five, tatted-up badass whose sinful smile he can’t get out of his mind.

The only problem? Trent’s a notorious womanizer, and Shaw isn’t interested in being someone’s experiment—muse or otherwise. But in a town as small as this one, Shaw is finding it more and more difficult to keep the persistent rocker at arm’s length.

As the tension between them builds, maybe it’s time to finally give in and get carried away with something a little bit like...desire.





Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2lU71ns






REVIEW:



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Excerpt:

I’d been inside Bash’s mansion enough times to know where he was taking me, even blindfolded. Through the front door, across the foyer, up the never-ending staircase. Walking down the hallway, I heard muffled sounds, as though there were people coupled up and already behind closed doors, and the further Bash took me, the louder the voices became. But there were no discernable words—it was more the breathless cries of men giving and receiving pleasure, and it made me hard as a fucking rock. “Sounds like the party started without me,” I said, a smile tipping my lips. “Not where you’re going,” he replied. I heard the sound of a handle being pressed down, felt the soft rush of air as a door opened and I was led inside, and then the click of the door shutting behind us. Whatever room he’d led me to was dead silent. We were alone. Bash tapped the side of my blindfold lightly.“You’ll keep this on until you get inside,” he said, keeping his voice low, as though he didn’t want anyone to hear him. Ah, so I’d be going through yet another door. I wondered at all of this secrecy, since usually these parties were informal, and if we wanted to wander off with someone, we did. Eyes wide open and lights on. But I trusted Bash with my life and knew him well enough to know that he had to have a good reason for doing this the way he was. So I didn’t think twice when I heard a second door open, felt his gentle hand on my back guiding me forward, and then heard him say with a smile in his voice,“Enjoy,my friends.” Then he was gone, and yet I was not alone. I removed the blindfold, but I needn’t have bothered. The room was pitch black. Not a window, not a crack of light coming through the door. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel another’s presence, sure as if they were standing beside me. I waited for them to speak, but the silence lingered on. They didn’t say a word, and they didn’t move, though they had to know I’d arrived. This must be part of the game,I thought. For whatever reason, we weren’t allowed to see each other, and I’d venture a guess that speaking was out of the question as well. Something told me there was more at play here than darkness simply heightening our awareness and setting the mood, and that had a shiver running down my spine. If it’s a game they want, it’s a game they’ll get. Opening my senses, I stood perfectly still and waited until I got a hint of where the man waiting for me was. My rapidly pounding heart was all I could hear for a long moment until a faint sound, maybe a quiet exhale, sounded to my right, and I stalked in that direction slowly, letting my prey hear me coming. Would he run and make me chase him? Or did he want me to find him waiting? With my hands slightly in front of me, I moved forward until my fingertips grazed against smooth material cut with a cold and jagged line that ran vertically—a zipper. The smell of leather filled my nose as I slid my hands up the man’s jacket. He didn’t move, but I could hear his shuddering breath as I reached his shoulders and slipped my hands beneath the leather to feel the naked, tensed muscles there. He was maybe three or four inches shorter than me, and as I pushed the jacket down, I realized he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. No shirt. Nothing to cover the solid muscle of his strong arms and chest. The leather fell to the ground, and then the man reached for me, his hands skimming up my arms, my shoulders, my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. There was something so tantalizing about a stranger touching me, wanting from me, as we stood toe to toe in the unlit room. I could see how the mystery of it all would make someone shy feel more bold and empowered, though that had never been something I struggled with. I had no problem telling someone what I wanted and when, which meant tonight’s clandestine activities were tailored for the man currently caressing my body—but it’d sure as hell be a fun, sexy pursuit for me. When his rough fingers reached my lips, I grabbed his wrist and held him there. Then I kissed the tips and sucked his pointer and middle fingers deep into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him, and his gasp hit my ears. The sound was so erotic, the salty taste of his skin so heady on my tongue, that I had to palm my already-up-and-ready-to-go dick to calm it the hell down. As if he sensed my arousal, he pulled his fingers from my mouth and punched his hips forward. I let out a throaty groan at the contact. His erection matched my own, though more constricted through the tight fit of his jeans. Thirsty for more, I grabbed his trim waist and let my hands fall to his backside. His shoulders were against a wall, and with his ass firmly in my grasp, I held his hips against me, rubbing myself off on the bulge rocking against my own. All the while, his fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of my vest, and then he pulled loose my shirt and began removing those as well. My chest heaved as he pushed my jacket, shirt, and vest off in one go, and I kicked them away, not worried in the slightest about finding them later. His touch made goosebumps break out on my naked flesh wherever he roamed. Down my neck and then my chest, where he pinched my nipples so hard that I cried out in painful pleasure and put my hands over his. He froze, as if he’d crossed an unspoken line. But if he’d thought he’d gone too far or that I was about to stop him, he was dead wrong. I guided our hands down together, over my trembling abs and then further, further, until we pushed beneath the waistband of my pants to my— “Fuuuck.” His head fell back against the wall as the curse left his lips on an exhale. In the dark, I smiled. He’d broken the rules to his own game. With one word, he changed everything, and now? Anything goes.

Start the series of standalones today!

A Little Bit Like Love

Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/ShbNqD


About Brooke:
Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts. If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. Or you can reach her at www.BrookeBlaine.com.
Ella Frank
Connect with Brooke:
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1i2g15S

Brooke & Ella's Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheBrellas


If you’d like to be the FIRST to know about a new release, sale, giveaway, or upcoming signings & events, make sure to join Brooke’s mailing list:

Monday, July 23, 2018

Release Blitz: A Little Bit Like Desire by Brooke Blaine

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A Little Bit Like Desire, an all-new STANDALONE contemporary MM romance from USA Today bestselling author Brooke Blaine is LIVE!

ALBLD-PRINT-FOR-WEB.jpg


What if you had everything in the world you wanted...except the man you never knew you needed?
Shaw Jennings, the seductive, enigmatic owner of Body Electric Tattoo works hard and plays even harder. He’s built a life he’s proud of, and though that doesn’t include a significant other, he’s got plenty of sexy men to keep his bed warm at night. None of them have ever made Shaw sit up and take notice for long, though. But that all changes when a famous rock star walks through his door.
Trent Knox had the world in the palm of his hand as the lead singer of TBD, one of the biggest rock bands in history…until the day he walked away. A getaway to South Haven Island seems like the perfect place for Trent to find himself again and reignite his passion for music. But what he never expects is to find his muse in a six-five, tatted-up badass whose sinful smile he can’t get out of his mind.
The only problem? Trent’s a notorious womanizer, and Shaw isn’t interested in being someone’s experiment—muse or otherwise. But in a town as small as this one, Shaw is finding it more and more difficult to keep the persistent rocker at arm’s length.
As the tension between them builds, maybe it’s time to finally give in and get carried away with something a little bit like...desire.


ALBLD-AN.jpg


Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2lU71ns


IMG_1812.JPG

Start the series of standalones today!

A Little Bit Like Love
Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/ShbNqD

About Brooke:
Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts. If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. Or you can reach her at www.BrookeBlaine.com.


Brooke Blaine_profile pic.jpg

Connect with Brooke:
Amazon Author Page: https://amzn.to/2LxEJxx
Brooke & Ella's Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheBrellas

If you’d like to be the FIRST to know about a new release, sale, giveaway, or upcoming signings & events, make sure to join Brooke’s mailing list:
Monday, July 9, 2018

Cover Reveal: A Little Bit Like Desire by Brooke Blaine

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A Little Bit Like Desire, an all-new STANDALONE contemporary MM romance from USA Today bestselling author Brooke Blaine is coming July 23rd!


ALBLD-PRINT-FOR-WEB.jpg

A Little Bit Like Desire by Brooke Blaine
Genre: Contemporary MM Romance
Publishing Date: July 23rd, 2018
Cover Designer: Hang Le
Photographer: Eric Battershell
Model: Andrew England


What if you had everything in the world you wanted...except the man you never knew you needed?
Shaw Jennings, the seductive, enigmatic owner of Body Electric Tattoo works hard and plays even harder. He’s built a life he’s proud of, and though that doesn’t include a significant other, he’s got plenty of sexy men to keep his bed warm at night. None of them have ever made Shaw sit up and take notice for long, though. But that all changes when a famous rock star walks through his door.
Trent Knox had the world in the palm of his hand as the lead singer of TBD, one of the biggest rock bands in history…until the day he walked away. A getaway to South Haven Island seems like the perfect place for Trent to find himself again and reignite his passion for music. But what he never expects is to find his muse in a six-five, tatted-up badass whose sinful smile he can’t get out of his mind.
The only problem? Trent’s a notorious womanizer, and Shaw isn’t interested in being someone’s experiment—muse or otherwise. But in a town as small as this one, Shaw is finding it more and more difficult to keep the persistent rocker at arm’s length.
As the tension between them builds, maybe it’s time to finally give in and get carried away with something a little bit like...desire.

Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2lU71ns


Start the series of standalones today!

A Little Bit Like Love
Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/ShbNqD



About Brooke:
Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts. If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. 
Or you can reach her at www.BrookeBlaine.com.


Brooke Blaine_profile pic.jpg

Connect with Brooke:
Amazon Author Page: https://amzn.to/2u3T1fo
Brooke & Ella's Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheBrellas
If you’d like to be the FIRST to know about a new release, sale, giveaway, or upcoming signings & events, make sure to join Brooke’s mailing list:
Thursday, March 1, 2018

Blog Tour & Excerpt & Review: Remember Me When by Brooke Blaine

SBPRBANNER-RMW-BT

Experience the heartbreakingly beautiful journey of Ollie & Reid in…Remember Me When, the emotional conclusion to The Unforgettable Duet, from Brooke Blaine is now LIVE


RMW-ebook-Goodreads


My worst nightmare and your greatest fear became a reality.
Remember Me When is the second and final book in The Unforgettable Duet and should only be read following Forget Me Not.


Read Remember Me When Today!

(Free in Kindle Unlimited)

The Unforgettable Duet Excerpt


THE UNFORGETTABLE DUET © 2018, BROOKE BLAINE CHAPTER ONE
“IT’S MONDAY, AND you know what that means,” Mike said as he cut off Big Bertha’s engine and looked over at me expectantly. I patted my pants pocket to make sure I’d shoved my wallet inside before we’d headed out this morning, and when I felt the outline of the trifold, I nodded. “Yep. Extra-bold coffee comin’ up.” As I popped open the passenger-side door, Mike’s hand landed firmly on my arm, halting me before I could get out of the ambulance, and I looked back at him over my shoulder. “It means don’t be a chickenshit, Ollie, that’s what it means.” Lifting my eyebrows, I glanced around, searching for whoever it was Mike thought he was talking to, and when he read my quizzical expression, he snorted. “Yeah, that means you,” he said. “You callin’ me out?” “Damn right I am.” I shook my head. “I’m not a chickenshit, and you know it.” Mike shrugged and let go of my arm. “Fine. Prove it.” “I can’t do that.” “You can. You just won’t.” Yeah, whatever, he had me there. Something always held me back from saying much more than hello to the guy in the fitted chinos and starched collared shirt and tie that I saw most mornings in the coffee aisle at Joe’s Grab ’N Go, and Mike never could resist an opportunity to rib me for it. I never should’ve told him about my crush in the first damn place, but being my best friend as well as my work partner meant we tended to overshare in the time between calls. “He’s straight, Mike. Leave it alone, huh?” “You don’t know that for sure.” I picked up a container of mints and shook a couple into my mouth before tossing it back in the console. “Trust me. I know.” “You ask him since the last time I saw you?” Rolling my eyes, I ignored his question and pushed open my door. “You want that coffee or not?” “Mhmm. The date for you, too.” “Jesus,” I muttered, slamming the door before he could make any other requests. I could hear him chuckling behind me as he got out to pump the gas. And out of the corner of my eye, a flash of red pulling into a parking spot had my heart beating a bit faster. It was ridiculous that I’d even wonder for a second if I’d see him, since hardly a weekday had gone by in four months when I hadn’t. But that flutter of anticipation still sent a thrill through me, the handful of minutes seeing him every morning the highlight of my day. That’s it. I need to get my damn life back. Working all these overtime shifts to pick up some extra cash over the holidays—and giving the guys with families some time off—had sent my extracurricular activities into a tailspin. If I didn’t get laid soon, I’d crash and burn. Or, worse, hit on the straight guy. “Hey, Ollie,” Mike called out, and I paused with my hand on the door to the Grab ’N Go before moving aside to let the woman behind me pass through. When I turned around, a mischievous grin played on his lips as he inserted the gas pump into Big Bertha’s tank and began to hip-thrust. Oh for the love of— “And while you’re at it, maybe grab me one of those apple fritters, would ya? And a soda for later?” So much for New Year’s resolutions, I thought. That had lasted less than a week. Not that I could blame him when it came to the tempting basket of freshly baked goods that sat by Joe’s register every morning—even I had a hard time passing on those. Still, Mike had wanted to lose the twenty pounds that had crept up since Halloween and made me swear I’d keep him in check. “You sure you wanna do that?” I asked. Mike looked pointedly over at the red Mazda3 and his smile grew. “Life’s too short to pass on the good stuff, wouldn’t you say?” That fucker. I shook my head and shot a glare his way, and then I went inside, determined now to buy out the apple fritters and personally stuff ’em down his meddling throat. “Morning, Oliver,” Joe greeted me from behind the counter where he was ringing up a customer, and I smiled his way before grabbing a handheld basket and heading down the aisle for Mike’s Sprite. I took the third bottle from the front—yeah, I never took the first one of anything—and laid it in the basket as the freezer door slapped shut behind me. I kept a tight grip on the handle as I took my time walking toward the far aisle, the anticipation building in my gut. Finally, I rounded the corner, and just as he was every day, Bluebird stood in front of the coffee station, refillable mug in hand and somehow looking more gorgeous than I remembered. My memory never did him justice. I didn’t move as he placed his mug beneath the machine’s spout and hit a button, and I knew exactly what he’d get, the same as every morning: a latte with light foam and three sugars, two creamers. Today he was dressed in a pair of black slacks, with a white button-down shirt and a midnight-blue tie—always so well put together, from his stylishly tousled dark brown hair, so dark it was almost black, down to his black loafers. A couple of days of stubble covered his usual freshly shaven jaw, and I imagined how it’d feel under my hands as I took either side of his face and pulled him toward mine— “Dammit!” Bluebird’s curse shook me out of my stupor as my feet managed to move again, and as I got closer, I saw that the usual brown liquid coming out of the machine was a cloudy white instead. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Hey, Joe,” he called out to the owner. “Latte machine’s down.” “Again?” Joe scratched his jaw and then said, “Sorry about that, Reid. I’ll get someone out to fix it today.” “No problem,” Reid replied, dumping out the hot water from his mug into the tray, and hello, I finally had a name to go with the face: Reid. How was it I’d gone so long without knowing? I pulled out a couple of large disposable cups from the rack and reached for the coffee pot at the same time as Reid, our fingers brushing each other ever so slightly before we both jerked back. His touch shot through me like an electric jolt to my heart, and the surprise that lit his eyes told me I wasn’t the only one affected. “Sorry,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Damn static.” That wasn’t static, I thought, but I wasn’t about to enlighten him, so instead I gestured to the almost empty coffee pot. “No problem. Go for it.” “Oh…uh…” He glanced at how little was left and shook his head. “That’s okay. You were first.” “Nah, go ahead. Something tells me you need it more than I do.” “You sure?” Reid asked, his forehead creased like he didn’t want to impose, but I wouldn’t have minded him taking the last of the coffee every day, so long as those dark chocolate eyes of his stayed on me. “I insist,” I said, and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Besides, I know where Joe keeps the spares. I’ll just make another pot.” A grateful smile lifted his lips. “Thanks.” Then he poured himself a full mug of coffee and scratched his jaw as he said, “Ever have one of those mornings?” “All the time.” Reid looked up at me, and then his eyes shifted down to my name and title patched in on my uniform. Oliver McFadden. Paramedic. “Yeah, of course you do. Paramedic, huh? I don’t know how you do it.” “Helps that we can filter caffeine through IVs for a quicker hit on bad days.” He laughed as he ripped open three sugar packets and dumped them into his drink. “I think I’m in the wrong field.” “What is it you do?” “I teach music education at Castle Hill.” “Middle schoolers?” I whistled. “I think I’ll stick with my job.” “I wouldn’t blame you some days. They’re mostly a good group, but man, there’s a few whose mission is to run off the new teachers.” “And you’re one of the new ones?” “Four months running.” He tossed the empty packets into the trash and then held his hand out to me. “I’m Reid, by the way.” I stared at his hand for a couple of heartbeats before taking it in mine. His long fingers were cool to the touch, unlike my perpetually hot ones. It could be negative fifty outside, and my hands would still be warm. “Ollie,” I said, and then shook my head slightly. “Well, Oliver, but everyone calls me Ollie.” “Ollie,” Reid repeated, still shaking my hand. “I’ve never met an Ollie before.” “Mom was a big fan of Laurel and Hardy. I’m just glad she didn’t go with Stan.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that was an unnecessary reference because he probably had no idea who the hell Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy were, but Reid surprised the hell out of me by laughing. “Your mom has good taste. I used to watch their stuff at my nan’s,” he said, and then let go of my hand. I missed the contact immediately. Before I could respond, Joe’s gnarled fingers clamped down on my arm as he hobbled in between us and hit the side of the latte machine with his cane. “I don’t think it’ll respond to a beat-down, Joe,” Reid said, as he stirred two creamers into his coffee. “Worked once before. By George, I’ll do it again.” As Joe whacked at the machine, Reid shook his head at the stubborn man. Then he capped his mug and smiled at me. “Thanks again, Ollie. I owe you one.” “Anytime,” I said, and meant it. “Hope your morning improves.” “I’m counting on it. Bye, Joe. I’ll leave the money on the counter.” Joe grumbled what sounded like a goodbye and kept fiddling with the latte machine as I rinsed out the coffee pot and started up a fresh brew. Two steaming mugs and a bag full of apple fritters later and I was climbing back into Big Bertha, still reeling from my run-in with Reid. It was so unlike me to moon over a guy, for fuck’s sake, but there was something about him that had caught my attention from day one and never let go. Today’s encounter had only served to pique my curiosity. I’d always thought him older, maybe mid- to late twenties, but he said he’d only been at Castle Hill for four months. Maybe that meant he was fresh out of college? Or could be he’d relocated from somewhere. Definitely somewhere still in the South, since he seemed to have the manner of someone who’d grown up with parents who drilled in the Yes, sirs and No, thank you, ma’ams so telling of this part of the country, though his accent didn’t betray much of a twang. “That has got to be the biggest, dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your ugly mug,” Mike said, staring at me like I’d grown two heads. “Did you finally do it? Did you ask him out?” I tossed the bag of fritters and soda into Mike’s lap. “Feel free to choke on those.” “Ahh, I’m gonna take that as a yes, then. He shoot you down?” After setting the coffees in the console, I fastened my seatbelt and waited for Mike to get the hint we needed to get moving. “The hell, man?” he said. “You gonna leave me hangin’?” I arched my brow in his direction, and when I didn’t say anything, he gave a grunt and started up the rig. “One of these days, Ollie,” he grumbled, pulling out of the gas station. “You know all my personal shit. See if I spill my guts anymore.” “You wouldn’t know what to do if you couldn’t talk about Deb twenty-four seven.” “Hey, it’s not my fault I scored a good one. Just letting everyone know what they’re missing out on.” As Mike slowed down behind traffic, he glanced over at me and waggled his black eyebrows. “Make sure to do us a favor and hand out barf bags the next time you get started.” I nodded at the bag of pastries in his lap. “And don’t tell Deb I’m doin’ a horrible job of keeping you accountable.” “Nah, she likes my love handles.” “Bullshit.” He laughed and tore into the bag of fritters with one hand, while keeping his other on the wheel. When he’d made me swear last week that I’d keep him on track while he “cut the crap,” I’d thought he was nuts. Even with an extra twenty pounds on his strong six-foot build, Mike was as attractive as ever. Black, close-cropped curls, a permanent tan, and dimples that only seemed to have deepened the past few months. The hot ones are always straight. At least they are in Floyd Hills, Georgia, I thought, my mind drifting back to the man I always made sure to run into during the workweek. And yeah, I got that straight vibe from Reid too, though even he couldn’t deny the spark that had ignited when our hands had brushed against each other. That wasn’t enough to hang any hope on, though, much as I wanted to. “His name’s Reid,” I said, breaking up the quiet in the cab, and when Mike’s head jerked in my direction, a fritter half shoved in his mouth, I was unable to keep the smirk off my face anymore. “Teaches music at the middle school.” As I casually sipped my coffee, Mike’s jaw practically hit the ground. “No shit.” A horn sounded from behind us, and Mike stepped on the gas, shaking his head. “About damn time. What else did you talk about?” “Nothing. Joe came over to give the coffee machine a concussion, and that was the end of that.” “Dammit, Joe. Way to cock-block.” “Nah, he didn’t know.” “Well, you have an opening now,” Mike said, winking at me. “And that was only a pun if you want it to be.” “Oh, Jesus. I’ve done it now.” “What?” “Created a monster who uses puns against me.” Mike laughed as I flipped on the radio to drown out any other comments his sugar high wanted to lob out, but when Bing Crosby began to croon about a winter wonderland, Mike groaned and jabbed at the buttons to change the channel. “I can’t believe they’re still blasting Christmas music in January. Didn’t they get the memo that Santa Claus already came to town, and all he brought me was a damn snow blower? When the hell am I gonna use a snow blower around here? I think my in-laws called in a favor.” Chuckling, I brought my coffee up to my lips and blew softly, while Mike continued to flip through the stations until a country song began to play. He started to sing along, something about naming babies and dogs, which would normally have me eye-rolling him to death. But since his mouth was now otherwise occupied and he wasn’t digging for more information out of me, I didn’t bother putting up a fight to change the channel. Let him belt out “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” for all I cared. Until a call came in, my mind would be preoccupied by…other things. A quick tone alert came through the radio, and I punched the music off as a call came through from dispatch. “Unit 110, please respond Code 3 to the intersection of Mercer and Thomas on a multi-vehicle accident with injuries. Fire responding for possible extrication.” I picked up the receiver. “Ten-four, Unit 110 en route. ETA less than two minutes,” I said, as Mike dropped the plastic bag on the ground at my feet and flipped on the lights and siren. “Not how I’d want my day starting out,” he said, cutting through an intersection to make a left on Mercer. “Saddle up,” I said. “I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long one.” Traffic going east was already beginning to back up, the roads congested at the height of morning rush hour. Now with the accident up ahead and the cars unable to move to the side, Mike had to pull us into the suicide lane to get by. From the opposite direction, a backup unit, along with two police cars and a fire truck, veered toward the intersection, though it looked like we’d get there first. I could see the smoke rising up ahead, and as we got closer, it seemed to be coming from beneath the hood of a black four-by-four truck that had smashed into a— “Oh shit… Ollie…” Mike’s voice trailed off as we both caught sight of the crushed passenger side of the car that had been T-boned. The crumpled car had been no match for the bigger vehicle; it looked like they’d skidded into the middle of the intersection during impact. The car’s hood punched up at an awkward angle with the truck half inside, and broken glass littered the road. I’d seen the sight so many times before, but never had the breath left my lungs in a rush, never had a faint ringing sound filled my ears, and never had a wild sense of panic seized my chest like it did right then. Because the mangled car, the one I was responding to, was none other than Reid’s bright red Mazda3.
Author’s Note: The Unforgettable Duet must be read in order, beginning with Forget Me Not. Ollie & Reid’s journey continues in book two, Remember Me When.




Review








Start the Series Today!

Forget Me Not

Amazon US Amazon UK

Add to GoodReads


RMW-AN

About Brooke

BrookeBlaine

Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts.
If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. Or you can reach her at www.BrookeBlaine.com.

Connect with Brooke

Facebook I Twitter I Instagram Website I Amazon Author Page

If you’d like to be the FIRST to know about a new release, sale, giveaway, or upcoming signings & events, make sure to join Brooke’s mailing list HERE


Monday, February 26, 2018

Release Blitz: Remember Me When by Brooke Blaine

SBPRBANNER-RMW-RB

Experience the heartbreakingly beautiful journey of Ollie & Reid in…Remember Me When, the emotional conclusion to The Unforgettable Duet, from Brooke Blaine is now LIVE


RMW-ebook-Goodreads

My worst nightmare and your greatest fear became a reality:
You don’t remember me.
You don’t remember the accident, or the weeks afterward.
You don’t remember my bed as your safe place,
or when, against all odds, you fell for me.
You remember me only as the casual acquaintance you saw as you grabbed your daily coffee.
Three sugars, two creamers.
Perhaps an acquaintance is all I’ll ever be to you now.
Maybe I can shoulder the heartbreak and the loss of you, if it means you’ll be happy.
Unless…
You remember me when.
Remember Me When is the second and final book in The Unforgettable Duet and should only be read following Forget Me Not.

Read Remember Me When Today!

(Free in Kindle Unlimited)

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RMW-AN

Start the Series Today!

Forget Me Not

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About Brooke

BrookeBlaine 

  Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts. If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. Or you can reach her at www.BrookeBlaine.com.

Connect with Brooke

If you’d like to be the FIRST to know about a new release, sale, giveaway, or upcoming signings & events, make sure to join Brooke’s mailing list HERE
Thursday, February 15, 2018

Blog Tour & Excerpt & Review: Forget Me Not by Brooke Blaine

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Experience the heartbreakingly beautiful journey of Ollie & Reid in…

Forget Me Not, the first all-new contemporary MM Romance in The Unforgettable Duet, from Brooke Blaine is LIVE


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BLURB

Three sugars, two creamers.
That’s how you took your coffee every morning at Joe’s Grab ’N Go.
But you don’t remember that.
You don’t remember anything.
Anything, that is, except me…
That day…
And the tragedy that catapulted us together.



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Read Today!

(Free in Kindle Unlimited)
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2nppVUp


Review


Chapter One


CHAPTER ONE
“IT’S MONDAY, AND you know what that means,” Mike said as he cut off Big Bertha’s engine and looked over at me expectantly. I patted my pants pocket to make sure I’d shoved my wallet inside before we’d headed out this morning, and when I felt the outline of the trifold, I nodded. “Yep. Extra-bold coffee comin’ up.” As I popped open the passenger-side door, Mike’s hand landed firmly on my arm, halting me before I could get out of the ambulance, and I looked back at him over my shoulder. “It means don’t be a chickenshit, Ollie, that’s what it means.” Lifting my eyebrows, I glanced around, searching for whoever it was Mike thought he was talking to, and when he read my quizzical expression, he snorted. “Yeah, that means you,” he said. “You callin’ me out?” “Damn right I am.” I shook my head. “I’m not a chickenshit, and you know it.” Mike shrugged and let go of my arm. “Fine. Prove it.” “I can’t do that.” “You can. You just won’t.” Yeah, whatever, he had me there. Something always held me back from saying much more than hello to the guy in the fitted chinos and starched collared shirt and tie that I saw most mornings in the coffee aisle at Joe’s Grab ’N Go, and Mike never could resist an opportunity to rib me for it. I never should’ve told him about my crush in the first damn place, but being my best friend as well as my work partner meant we tended to overshare in the time between calls. “He’s straight, Mike. Leave it alone, huh?” “You don’t know that for sure.” I picked up a container of mints and shook a couple into my mouth before tossing it back in the console. “Trust me. I know.” “You ask him since the last time I saw you?” Rolling my eyes, I ignored his question and pushed open my door. “You want that coffee or not?” “Mhmm. The date for you, too.” “Jesus,” I muttered, slamming the door before he could make any other requests. I could hear him chuckling behind me as he got out to pump the gas. And out of the corner of my eye, a flash of red pulling into a parking spot had my heart beating a bit faster. It was ridiculous that I’d even wonder for a second if I’d see him, since hardly a weekday had gone by in four months when I hadn’t. But that flutter of anticipation still sent a thrill through me, the handful of minutes seeing him every morning the highlight of my day. That’s it. I need to get my damn life back. Working all these overtime shifts to pick up some extra cash over the holidays—and giving the guys with families some time off—had sent my extracurricular activities into a tailspin. If I didn’t get laid soon, I’d crash and burn. Or, worse, hit on the straight guy. “Hey, Ollie,” Mike called out, and I paused with my hand on the door to the Grab ’N Go before moving aside to let the woman behind me pass through. When I turned around, a mischievous grin played on his lips as he inserted the gas pump into Big Bertha’s tank and began to hip-thrust.   Oh for the love of— “And while you’re at it, maybe grab me one of those apple fritters, would ya? And a soda for later?” So much for New Year’s resolutions, I thought. That had lasted less than a week. Not that I could blame him when it came to the tempting basket of freshly baked goods that sat by Joe’s register every morning—even I had a hard time passing on those. Still, Mike had wanted to lose the twenty pounds that had crept up since Halloween and made me swear I’d keep him in check. “You sure you wanna do that?” I asked. Mike looked pointedly over at the red Mazda3 and his smile grew. “Life’s too short to pass on the good stuff, wouldn’t you say?” That fucker. I shook my head and shot a glare his way, and then I went inside, determined now to buy out the apple fritters and personally stuff ’em down his meddling throat. “Morning, Oliver,” Joe greeted me from behind the counter where he was ringing up a customer, and I smiled his way before grabbing a handheld basket and heading down the aisle for Mike’s Sprite. I took the third bottle from the front—yeah, I never took the first one of anything—and laid it in the basket as the freezer door slapped shut behind me. I kept a tight grip on the handle as I took my time walking toward the far aisle, the anticipation building in my gut. Finally, I rounded the corner, and just as he was every day, Bluebird stood in front of the coffee station, refillable mug in hand and somehow looking more gorgeous than I remembered. My memory never did him justice. I didn’t move as he placed his mug beneath the machine’s spout and hit a button, and I knew exactly what he’d get, the same as every morning: a latte with light foam and three sugars, two creamers.Today he was dressed in a pair of black slacks, with a white button-down shirt and a midnight-blue tie—always so well put together, from his stylishly tousled dark brown hair, so dark it was almost black, down to his black loafers. A couple of days of stubble covered his usual freshly shaven jaw, and I imagined how it’d feel under my hands as I took either side of his face and pulled him toward mine— “Dammit!” Bluebird’s curse shook me out of my stupor as my feet managed to move again, and as I got closer, I saw that the usual brown liquid coming out of the machine was a cloudy white instead. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Hey, Joe,” he called out to the owner. “Latte machine’s down.” “Again?” Joe scratched his jaw and then said, “Sorry about that, Reid. I’ll get someone out to fix it today.” “No problem,” Reid replied, dumping out the hot water from his mug into the tray, and hello, I finally had a name to go with the face: Reid. How was it I’d gone so long without knowing?I pulled out a couple of large disposable cups from the rack and reached for the coffee pot at the same time as Reid, our fingers brushing each other ever so slightly before we both jerked back. His touch shot through me like an electric jolt to my heart, and the surprise that lit his eyes told me I wasn’t the only one affected. “Sorry,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Damn static.” That wasn’t static, I thought, but I wasn’t about to enlighten him, so instead I gestured to the almost empty coffee pot. “No problem. Go for it.” “Oh…uh…” He glanced at how little was left and shook his head. “That’s okay. You were first.” “Nah, go ahead. Something tells me you need it more than I do.” “You sure?” Reid asked, his forehead creased like he didn’t want to impose, but I wouldn’t have minded him taking the last of the coffee every day, so long as those dark chocolate eyes of his stayed on me. “I insist,” I said, and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Besides, I know where Joe keeps the spares. I’ll just make another pot.” A grateful smile lifted his lips. “Thanks.” Then he poured himself a full mug of coffee and scratched his jaw as he said, “Ever have one of those mornings?” “All the time.” Reid looked up at me, and then his eyes shifted down to my name and title patched in on my uniform. Oliver McFadden. Paramedic. “Yeah, of course you do. Paramedic, huh? I don’t know how you do it.” “Helps that we can filter caffeine through IVs for a quicker hit on bad days.” He laughed as he ripped open three sugar packets and dumped them into his drink. “I think I’m in the wrong field.” “What is it you do?” “I teach music education at Castle Hill.” “Middle schoolers?” I whistled. “I think I’ll stick with my job.” “I wouldn’t blame you some days. They’re mostly a good group, but man, there’s a few whose mission is to run off the new teachers.” “And you’re one of the new ones?” “Four months running.” He tossed the empty packets into the trash and then held his hand out to me. “I’m Reid, by the way.” I stared at his hand for a couple of heartbeats before taking it in mine. His long fingers were cool to the touch, unlike my perpetually hot ones. It could be negative fifty outside, and my hands would still be warm. “Ollie,” I said, and then shook my head slightly. “Well, Oliver, but everyone calls me Ollie.” “Ollie,” Reid repeated, still shaking my hand. “I’ve never met an Ollie before.” “Mom was a big fan of Laurel and Hardy. I’m just glad she didn’t go with Stan.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that was an unnecessary reference because he probably had no idea who the hell Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy were, but Reid surprised the hell out of me by laughing. “Your mom has good taste. I used to watch their stuff at my nan’s,” he said, and then let go of my hand. I missed the contact immediately. Before I could respond, Joe’s gnarled fingers clamped down on my arm as he hobbled in between us and hit the side of the latte machine with his cane. “I don’t think it’ll respond to a beat-down, Joe,” Reid said, as he stirred two creamers into his coffee. “Worked once before. By George, I’ll do it again.” As Joe whacked at the machine, Reid shook his head at the stubborn man. Then he capped his mug and smiled at me. “Thanks again, Ollie. I owe you one.” “Anytime,” I said, and meant it. “Hope your morning improves.” “I’m counting on it. Bye, Joe. I’ll leave the money on the counter.”  Joe grumbled what sounded like a goodbye and kept fiddling with the latte machine as I rinsed out the coffee pot and started up a fresh brew. Two steaming mugs and a bag full of apple fritters later and I was climbing back into Big Bertha, still reeling from my run-in with Reid. It was so unlike me to moon over a guy, for fuck’s sake, but there was something about him that had caught my attention from day one and never let go. Today’s encounter had only served to pique my curiosity. I’d always thought him older, maybe mid- to late twenties, but he said he’d only been at Castle Hill for four months. Maybe that meant he was fresh out of college? Or could be he’d relocated from somewhere. Definitely somewhere still in the South, since he seemed to have the manner of someone who’d grown up with parents who drilled in the Yes, sirs and No, thank you, ma’ams so telling of this part of the country, though his accent didn’t betray much of a twang. “That has got to be the biggest, dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your ugly mug,” Mike said, staring at me like I’d grown two heads. “Did you finally do it? Did you ask him out?” I tossed the bag of fritters and soda into Mike’s lap. “Feel free to choke on those.” “Ahh, I’m gonna take that as a yes, then. He shoot you down?” After setting the coffees in the console, I fastened my seatbelt and waited for Mike to get the hint we needed to get moving. “The hell, man?” he said. “You gonna leave me hangin’?” I arched my brow in his direction, and when I didn’t say anything, he gave a grunt and started up the rig. “One of these days, Ollie,” he grumbled, pulling out of the gas station. “You know all my personal shit. See if I spill my guts anymore.” “You wouldn’t know what to do if you couldn’t talk about Deb twenty-four seven.” “Hey, it’s not my fault I scored a good one. Just letting everyone know what they’re missing out on.” As Mike slowed down behind traffic, he glanced over at me and waggled his black eyebrows. “Make sure to do us a favor and hand out barf bags the next time you get started.” I nodded at the bag of pastries in his lap. “And don’t tell Deb I’m doin’ a horrible job of keeping you accountable.” “Nah, she likes my love handles.” “Bullshit.” He laughed and tore into the bag of fritters with one hand, while keeping his other on the wheel. When he’d made me swear last week that I’d keep him on track while he “cut the crap,” I’d thought he was nuts. Even with an extra twenty pounds on his strong six-foot build, Mike was as attractive as ever. Black, close-cropped curls, a permanent tan, and dimples that only seemed to have deepened the past few months. The hot ones are always straight. At least they are in Floyd Hills, Georgia, I thought, my mind drifting back to the man I always made sure to run into during the workweek. And yeah, I got that straight vibe from Reid too, though even he couldn’t deny the spark that had ignited when our hands had brushed against each other. That wasn’t enough to hang any hope on, though, much as I wanted to. “His name’s Reid,” I said, breaking up the quiet in the cab, and when Mike’s head jerked in my direction, a fritter half shoved in his mouth, I was unable to keep the smirk off my face anymore. “Teaches music at the middle school.” As I casually sipped my coffee, Mike’s jaw practically hit the ground. “No shit.” A horn sounded from behind us, and Mike stepped on the gas, shaking his head. “About damn time. What else did you talk about?” “Nothing. Joe came over to give the coffee machine a concussion, and that was the end of that.” “Dammit, Joe. Way to cock-block.” “Nah, he didn’t know.” “Well, you have an opening now,” Mike said, winking at me. “And that was only a pun if you want it to be.” “Oh, Jesus. I’ve done it now.” “What?”“Created a monster who uses puns against me.” Mike laughed as I flipped on the radio to drown out any other comments his sugar high wanted to lob out, but when Bing Crosby began to croon about a winter wonderland, Mike groaned and jabbed at the buttons to change the channel. “I can’t believe they’re still blasting Christmas music in January. Didn’t they get the memo that Santa Claus already came to town, and all he brought me was a damn snow blower? When the hell am I gonna use a snow blower around here? I think my in-laws called in a favor.” Chuckling, I brought my coffee up to my lips and blew softly, while Mike continued to flip through the stations until a country song began to play. He started to sing along, something about naming babies and dogs, which would normally have me eye-rolling him to death. But since his mouth was now otherwise occupied and he wasn’t digging for more information out of me, I didn’t bother putting up a fight to change the channel. Let him belt out “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” for all I cared. Until a call came in, my mind would be preoccupied by…other things. A quick tone alert came through the radio, and I punched the music off as a call came through from dispatch. “Unit 110, please respond Code 3 to the intersection of Mercer and Thomas on a multi-vehicle accident with injuries. Fire responding for possible extrication.” I picked up the receiver. “Ten-four, Unit 110 en route. ETA less than two minutes,” I said, as Mike dropped the plastic bag on the ground at my feet and flipped on the lights and siren. “Not how I’d want my day starting out,” he said, cutting through an intersection to make a left on Mercer. “Saddle up,” I said. “I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long one.” Traffic going east was already beginning to back up, the roads congested at the height of morning rush hour. Now with the accident up ahead and the cars unable to move to the side, Mike had to pull us into the suicide lane to get by. From the opposite direction, a backup unit, along with two police cars and a fire truck, veered toward the intersection, though it looked like we’d get there first. I could see the smoke rising up ahead, and as we got closer, it seemed to be coming from beneath the hood of a black four-by-four truck that had smashed into a— “Oh shit… Ollie…” Mike’s voice trailed off as we both caught sight of the crushed passenger side of the car that had been T-boned. The crumpled car had been no match for the bigger vehicle; it looked like they’d skidded into the middle of the intersection during impact. The car’s hood punched up at an awkward angle with the truck half inside, and broken glass littered the road. I’d seen the sight so many times before, but never had the breath left my lungs in a rush, never had a faint ringing sound filled my ears, and never had a wild sense of panic seized my chest like it did right then. Because the mangled car, the one I was responding to, was none other than Reid’s bright red Mazda3.


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Book two, Remember Me When
will be released on February 26th, 2018.

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2nsupcb


About Brooke

Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts. If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. Or you can reach her at www.BrookeBlaine.com.

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Connect with Brooke:
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2ECvYyA
Brooke & Ella's Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheBrellas
If you’d like to be the FIRST to know about a new release, sale, giveaway, or upcoming signings & events, make sure to join Brooke’s mailing list:
http://www.BrookeBlatp://www.BrookeBlaine.com
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