BLOG TOUR – THE CRACKS DUET by L.H. Cosway



We’re celebrating the release of the CRACKS DUET by L.H. Cosway! 

 
Title: A Crack In Everything and How The Light Gets In (Cracks Duet)
Age Group: Adult
Release Date: January 30 & February 6, 2018
Book Description:
A Crack in Everything

Life used to be simple.

I was a city girl with humble dreams. Then Dylan O’Dea broke into my flat, held me against the wall and told me to stay quiet.

It was like in the movies, where the universe zeros in on a single scene. I looked into his eyes and knew he was going to change me.

For Dylan, the sky was always falling. He showed me how our world is a contradiction of beauty and ugliness. How we choose to ignore the awful and gloss over it with the palatable. How you need just a tiny drop of something unsavoury to create every great scent.

Pretty deep for a pair of teenagers living in a block of council flats in inner city Dublin, right Probably. But we weren’t typical. We both had our obsessions. Mine was growing things, Dylan’s was scent. He taught me how to use my nose, and I introduced him to the magic of flowers.

I had no idea that one day he’d build an empire from what we started together. But before that, there was love and happiness, tragedy and epic heartbreak…

My name is Evelyn Flynn and I’m going to tell you about the crack in everything.

A Crack in Everything is Book #1 in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

How the Light Gets in
He came back to me 16 minutes and 59 seconds into Beethoven’s Symphony no. 7.
We parted amid tragedy, so it seemed poetic. Dylan O’Dea, my childhood sweetheart, had once
meant everything to me. Now we were strangers, and honestly, after eleven years I never thought
I’d see him again.
I lived in the world of the average, of getting paid by the hour and budgeting to make ends meet. But
Dylan, he lived in the world of wealth and success. He’d achieved the great things I always suspected
he would. The dissatisfaction he’d felt as a teenager had obviously been an excellent motivator.
He started a business from scratch, pioneered a brand, and created perfumes adored by women
across the globe. I was just one of the people who’d been there before. Now he was living his best
life in the after.
And me, well, I’d been in a dark place for a while. Slowly but surely, I was letting the light back in, but there was something missing. I was an unfinished sentence with an ellipsis at the end. And maybe, if I was brave enough to take the chance, Dylan could be my happy ending.

How the Light Gets In is Book #2 and the concluding installment in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

 

 

About the author:

 

L.H. Cosway lives in Dublin, Ireland. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories. L.H. is represented by Louise Fury at The Bent Agency.

Social Media Links:FB: www.facebook.com/LHCosway
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LHCosway
Instagram: www.instagram.com/l.h.cosway
Website: www.lhcoswayauthor.com
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lhcosway13/

LIVE – HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN (Cracks Duet, #2) by L.H. Cosway

We’re celebrating the release of A CRACK IN EVERYTHING by L.H. Cosway!

 

 

How the Light Gets in
He came back to me 16 minutes and 59 seconds into Beethoven’s Symphony no. 7.
We parted amid tragedy, so it seemed poetic. Dylan O’Dea, my childhood sweetheart, had once
meant everything to me. Now we were strangers, and honestly, after eleven years I never thought
I’d see him again.
I lived in the world of the average, of getting paid by the hour and budgeting to make ends meet. But
Dylan, he lived in the world of wealth and success. He’d achieved the great things I always suspected
he would. The dissatisfaction he’d felt as a teenager had obviously been an excellent motivator.
He started a business from scratch, pioneered a brand, and created perfumes adored by women
across the globe. I was just one of the people who’d been there before. Now he was living his best
life in the after.
And me, well, I’d been in a dark place for a while. Slowly but surely, I was letting the light back in, but there was something missing. I was an unfinished sentence with an ellipsis at the end. And maybe, if I was brave enough to take the chance, Dylan could be my happy ending.
How the Light Gets In is Book #2 and the concluding installment in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

 

EXCERPT:

One

Inner City Dublin, Ireland. 2006.

 

Waiting for a flower bud to open was one of my favourite things.

It started out like a closed little pistachio. The next day its petals moved. The following day they spread. The day after that they spread a little bit more, and then finally the flower blossomed to its full potential.

I was waiting for the buds on my pink hibiscus to open, but they still had a few days to go yet. I poured a little water into the pot with a plastic bottle then screwed the cap back on. I was just about to place it on the shelf when someone hammered on my door.

It was a panicked knock, one that demanded attention. In this neighbourhood, it didn’t always bode well to open the door to knocking like this. I squinted through the peephole and recognised a boy I went to school with. His name was Dylan O’Dea, or was it O’Toole? Anyway, I was pretty sure he lived one or two floors below me here at St Mary’s Villas.

Don’t let the ‘Villas’ part fool you. There was nothing villa-like about this place. St Mary’s War Bunker would’ve been a more appropriate title. Everything was grey. The windows gave the barest minimum of light and every single flat smelled vaguely of mildew, no matter how much you cleaned or aired the place.

Dylan looked sweaty and desperate, and there was something about his panicked gaze that had me unlocking my door for him. Before I even had the chance to say a word, he barrelled in and slammed the door shut behind him.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed, at once regretting my decision. I lived with my aunt Yvonne, but she was at work and wouldn’t be home for hours.

Dylan stared me dead in the eye, his chest heaving, and raised a finger to his mouth in the universal gesture of ‘be quiet.’ I closed my mouth and a second later noise sounded from outside. People banged on doors the same way Dylan had been banging on mine. Our eyes met again, and he must’ve sensed I was going to say something because he came at me. He backed me up against the wall until his frame surrounded mine and his hand went to my mouth. I instantly struggled but then he whispered in my ear.

“Please, don’t make any noise. Some people are after me. I just need to hide here for a few minutes and then I’ll leave. I promise.”

I glared at him and lifted my foot to stomp on his ankle. He swore under his breath but didn’t loosen his hold.

“Fuck you,” I mumbled past his fingers. “Get out!” It sounded more like, “Fup Ooo. Et oot.”

“Please, Evelyn. I need your help.”

My heart hammered. He knew my name. Although it wasn’t so strange since most people knew each other’s names around here. It just felt odd for him to address me so familiarly, because we’d never spoken.

The sincerity in his dark blue eyes made me pause in my struggle. We stared at each other for another long moment, and goosebumps claimed my skin. His chest was wide and solid, and he smelled like cloves.

“If I lower my hand, do you promise not to scream?” he asked very quietly.

I nodded slowly, and his hand left my mouth. “Who’s after you?” I whispered, worried he’d brought trouble to my door.

“A few lads from the McCarthy gang. They’ve been trying to recruit me. I told Tommy McCarthy to go fuck off and now they want to give me a hiding.”

“Shite,” I breathed.

The knocking came closer. Whoever it was reached the flat next to mine and hammered on the door. I held still, barely breathing. My eyes traced Dylan’s face, his dark blue eyes, masculine jaw, and gruff expression. He wore grey jeans, black boots and a navy padded jacket. His sandy hair was somewhere in between blond and brown, and it had a slight curl to it. It was clipped short, so the curl didn’t have much room to . . . be curly.

He was very attractive, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he’d basically broken into my home. When my neighbour came out and started talking to the lads who were looking for Dylan, I whispered, “Why did you come here to hide?”

He made a thoughtful expression, his brow furrowing in a way that made him look like a grumpy bear. “What?”

“You could’ve gone into any flat, why this one?”

There was a beat of silece, then finally he whispered back, “Because you’re the only person on this row who wouldn’t feed me to the wolves.”

I arched a brow. “You don’t know that.”

You don’t know me.

Before he had a chance to reply, the banging started on my door. My chest seized, clutched by fear, because I knew the type of blokes who were out there.

Poor. Hard. Brutal.

Suddenly, Dylan was on me again, his hand on my mouth, his body holding mine in place. This time I didn’t struggle, instead I held still and stayed quiet. A shiver trickled down my spine at his closeness. I wasn’t often this close to people I hardly knew.

“Answer the bleedin’ door,” a male voice shouted. “Or I’ll knock it the fuck down.”

“Maybe I should answer and tell them you’re not here,” I whispered against his fingers.

He glanced down at me, probably because my lips were on his skin. He tilted his head, like he found it in some way interesting, then said, “No, they’ll come in and ransack the place.”

I let out an anxious breath. He was right. And I couldn’t do that to Yvonne. I couldn’t have her come home from her shift at the bar to a wrecked flat.

More banging ensued. I startled when a head appeared at the window, though thankfully Yvonne’s net curtains shielded us from view.

“He’s not in there,” someone said. “He probably ran down to the Willows.”

The Willows was a dilapidated block of flats about five minutes away. It was where people went to drink and do drugs. If you were homeless, it was where you went to sleep.

“Come on,” the same person said and the guy peering in the window disappeared. Dylan let go of me, took three strides across the room and looked out through the curtains.

“They’re gone,” he said and exhaled, his shoulders slumping in relief.

“Yes, now you should go, too,” I said, on guard again. I felt on edge having a strange boy in my flat who I’d never even spoken to before. Though ‘boy’ wasn’t exactly the right term. Dylan was probably about a year older than me, eighteen maybe, but he was built like a man. Soon his shoulders would get even broader, his features more defined. He’d be a sight to be reckoned with then, I was sure.

He turned back to look at me, one eyebrow arching as he stared me down. He didn’t do anything for a long moment and then his attention moved about the living room. His tension faded, and something like fondness, or maybe amusement, took its place.

“Big fan of New York?” he asked wryly, taking in all the posters and memorabilia.

I cleared my throat. “No, my aunt Yvonne is. She saw When Harry Met Sally and became obsessed. She’s saving up to move there in a couple years.”

Dylan’s mouth formed an attractive, thoughtful line. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you go with her?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Probably not. My grandma lives in the retirement home in Broadstone. We’re all she has. I couldn’t leave her.”

Dylan took this in, his dark eyes softening, then stepped to the front door. “Thanks for letting me hide here. I owe you one,” he said, ducking his head to make sure the coast was clear.

“Sure,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

He looked back at me one last time. “See ya, Evelyn.” And then he was gone.

***

“I’m sorry, but I’d sell my own mother for a night with Jared Leto, no question,” said Sam as we walked to English on Monday.

“Are we talking 30 Seconds to Mars Jared Leto or Jordan Catalano Jared?” I asked. “Because those are two entirely different kettles of fish.”

30 Seconds, of course. You know I can’t resist a man in eyeliner,” he said then winked. We reached our lockers when a familiar head of sandy brown hair emerged from the crowd.

Dylan.

He must’ve sensed my attention, because his eyes flashed to mine. I sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of him. He had a purple bruise beneath one eye, and there were various other cuts and grazes all over his face. Jesus.

Sam followed where I was looking and made a crass comment. “Looks like Dylan O’Dea likes it rough.”

So it was O’Dea.

“I think he got that beating on the streets, not in the sheets,” I said, chewing worriedly on my lip. Those McCarthy fellas must’ve caught up to him yesterday.

“Good one.” Sam chuckled, but I didn’t share his humour.

A pang of concern hit me square in the chest and I moved toward him automatically, leaving Sam by his locker. Dylan saw me approach and stopped in place, his attention skittering over me. He hitched his bag up on his shoulder and let out a gruff breath. “What?” he asked.

“They got you, didn’t they?”

He shifted from foot to foot, seeming uncomfortable with my concern. “Nah, walked into a wall.”

“Don’t be cute.”

Another sigh. “Yeah. They got me, blondie. Probably better to get it over with anyway. Now maybe they’ll leave me alone.”

I nodded slowly, not sure how to react to his endearment. It wasn’t very original, but it still made my breastplate tingle. “You think?”

“I hope, but who knows.”

“Have any teachers asked about your bruises?”

He gave me an incredulous look. “Where do you think we are? Nobody gives a shit here.”

I hated that he was right. The teachers at this school were either too mean or too downtrodden to care about students’ home lives. In a way, I didn’t blame them. Even the nice teachers eventually got so sick of being bullied and verbally abused that they shut off all their emotions. This wasn’t a soft place to grow up, but I liked to think I still had a heart.

I didn’t think before I said my next words. “Well, I give a shit.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why?”

“Because I’m not an unfeeling rock, that’s why.”

Dylan stared off over my head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You probably should be,” he said, then walked by me and disappeared back into the crowd.

Huh.

“Oh blondie, get your bum over here,” Sam crooned, and I turned back to my friend.

“What?” I asked.

“I didn’t know you and Dylan O’Dea were acquainted.”

I frowned. “We’re not. Not really.”

He folded his arms and pursed his lips. “Sure sounded like you are.”

“He was being chased by some blokes who wanted to beat him yesterday and I let him hide in my flat. That’s it.”

“Oooh, racy. Did he happen to hide in your bedroom by any chance? And did you share a sexy moment once the coast was clear? How did he express his gratitude?”

Trust Sam to turn everything into some sort of risqué soap opera. Although thinking about it, the way Dylan held his hand over my mouth did give me a flutter in my belly.

“He told me he owed me one,” I replied with a shrug. Sam’s eyes glittered.

“That means he owes you a good rogering.”

“Sam!”

“What?”

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“Nothing disgusting about sex with a fella like that, Ev. Besides, you need to lose that flower of yours before it shrivels up and dies.”

I scrunched my face. “Please don’t call it a flower. And anyway, I’m not the only one who needs to lose it, so you can quit talking like you know it all.”

He gave me a sassy look. “If I were as straight and as pretty as you are, I’d have lost it years ago. It’s not exactly easy to find gays in this neck of the woods.”

“Not easy to find gays who are out, you mean. Just wait for the next person who throws some homophobic slur at you and there’s a good chance he’s in the closet.”

“Hmm, I do get a hint of an angry sex vibe from Shane Huntley sometimes. Maybe you’re onto something.”

Speak of the devil. A few seconds after Sam mentioned him, Shane walked by with his ever-present posse of arseholes, usual sneer in place. I wondered why the meanest kids always seemed to have the most friends. I didn’t have a mean bone in my body and the only real friend I had was Sam. Shane walked on, not acknowledging us aside from his sneering expression, and I turned to neaten up my locker.

“I found a book on Freud in Yvonne’s collection,” I told him. “He had this theory that when we see the things we dislike in ourselves in others, we hate on it.”

“Hmm,” said Sam. “Could be some truth to it. But anyway, back to the luscious Mr O’Dea, when are you going to cash in on that debt?”

I chuckled. “Not sure. Maybe the next time I need some help moving furniture. The boy’s got some serious shoulders on him.”

“All the better for throwing you around the bedroom with.”

I shot him an irritable glance. “You’re not going to quit with this, are you?”

His answering wink was pure devilment. “Not in this lifetime, blondie.”

 

DON’T MISS THE FIRST BOOK IN THIS DUET!!!
Title:A Crack In Everything (Cracks Duet)
Age Group: Adult
Release Date: January 30, 2018
A Crack in Everything

Life used to be simple.

I was a city girl with humble dreams. Then Dylan O’Dea broke into my flat, held me against the wall and told me to stay quiet.

It was like in the movies, where the universe zeros in on a single scene. I looked into his eyes and knew he was going to change me.

For Dylan, the sky was always falling. He showed me how our world is a contradiction of beauty and ugliness. How we choose to ignore the awful and gloss over it with the palatable. How you need just a tiny drop of something unsavoury to create every great scent.

Pretty deep for a pair of teenagers living in a block of council flats in inner city Dublin, right Probably. But we weren’t typical. We both had our obsessions. Mine was growing things, Dylan’s was scent. He taught me how to use my nose, and I introduced him to the magic of flowers.

I had no idea that one day he’d build an empire from what we started together. But before that, there was love and happiness, tragedy and epic heartbreak…

My name is Evelyn Flynn and I’m going to tell you about the crack in everything.

A Crack in Everything is Book #1 in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

About the author:

 

L.H. Cosway lives in Dublin, Ireland. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories. L.H. is represented by Louise Fury at The Bent Agency.

Social Media Links:FB: www.facebook.com/LHCosway
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LHCosway
Instagram: www.instagram.com/l.h.cosway
Website: www.lhcoswayauthor.com
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lhcosway13/

LIVE – A CRACK IN EVERYTHING (Crack Duet #1) by L.H. Cosway



We’re celebrating the release of A CRACK IN EVERYTHING by L.H. Cosway!

Title:A Crack In Everything (Cracks Duet)
Age Group: Adult
Release Date: January 30, 2018
A Crack in Everything

Life used to be simple.

I was a city girl with humble dreams. Then Dylan O’Dea broke into my flat, held me against the wall and told me to stay quiet.

It was like in the movies, where the universe zeros in on a single scene. I looked into his eyes and knew he was going to change me.

For Dylan, the sky was always falling. He showed me how our world is a contradiction of beauty and ugliness. How we choose to ignore the awful and gloss over it with the palatable. How you need just a tiny drop of something unsavoury to create every great scent.

Pretty deep for a pair of teenagers living in a block of council flats in inner city Dublin, right Probably. But we weren’t typical. We both had our obsessions. Mine was growing things, Dylan’s was scent. He taught me how to use my nose, and I introduced him to the magic of flowers.

I had no idea that one day he’d build an empire from what we started together. But before that, there was love and happiness, tragedy and epic heartbreak…

My name is Evelyn Flynn and I’m going to tell you about the crack in everything.

A Crack in Everything is Book #1 in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

EXCERPT:

One

Inner City Dublin, Ireland. 2006.

 

Waiting for a flower bud to open was one of my favourite things.

It started out like a closed little pistachio. The next day its petals moved. The following day they spread. The day after that they spread a little bit more, and then finally the flower blossomed to its full potential.

I was waiting for the buds on my pink hibiscus to open, but they still had a few days to go yet. I poured a little water into the pot with a plastic bottle then screwed the cap back on. I was just about to place it on the shelf when someone hammered on my door.

It was a panicked knock, one that demanded attention. In this neighbourhood, it didn’t always bode well to open the door to knocking like this. I squinted through the peephole and recognised a boy I went to school with. His name was Dylan O’Dea, or was it O’Toole? Anyway, I was pretty sure he lived one or two floors below me here at St Mary’s Villas.

Don’t let the ‘Villas’ part fool you. There was nothing villa-like about this place. St Mary’s War Bunker would’ve been a more appropriate title. Everything was grey. The windows gave the barest minimum of light and every single flat smelled vaguely of mildew, no matter how much you cleaned or aired the place.

Dylan looked sweaty and desperate, and there was something about his panicked gaze that had me unlocking my door for him. Before I even had the chance to say a word, he barrelled in and slammed the door shut behind him.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed, at once regretting my decision. I lived with my aunt Yvonne, but she was at work and wouldn’t be home for hours.

Dylan stared me dead in the eye, his chest heaving, and raised a finger to his mouth in the universal gesture of ‘be quiet.’ I closed my mouth and a second later noise sounded from outside. People banged on doors the same way Dylan had been banging on mine. Our eyes met again, and he must’ve sensed I was going to say something because he came at me. He backed me up against the wall until his frame surrounded mine and his hand went to my mouth. I instantly struggled but then he whispered in my ear.

“Please, don’t make any noise. Some people are after me. I just need to hide here for a few minutes and then I’ll leave. I promise.”

I glared at him and lifted my foot to stomp on his ankle. He swore under his breath but didn’t loosen his hold.

“Fuck you,” I mumbled past his fingers. “Get out!” It sounded more like, “Fup Ooo. Et oot.”

“Please, Evelyn. I need your help.”

My heart hammered. He knew my name. Although it wasn’t so strange since most people knew each other’s names around here. It just felt odd for him to address me so familiarly, because we’d never spoken.

The sincerity in his dark blue eyes made me pause in my struggle. We stared at each other for another long moment, and goosebumps claimed my skin. His chest was wide and solid, and he smelled like cloves.

“If I lower my hand, do you promise not to scream?” he asked very quietly.

I nodded slowly, and his hand left my mouth. “Who’s after you?” I whispered, worried he’d brought trouble to my door.

“A few lads from the McCarthy gang. They’ve been trying to recruit me. I told Tommy McCarthy to go fuck off and now they want to give me a hiding.”

“Shite,” I breathed.

The knocking came closer. Whoever it was reached the flat next to mine and hammered on the door. I held still, barely breathing. My eyes traced Dylan’s face, his dark blue eyes, masculine jaw, and gruff expression. He wore grey jeans, black boots and a navy padded jacket. His sandy hair was somewhere in between blond and brown, and it had a slight curl to it. It was clipped short, so the curl didn’t have much room to . . . be curly.

He was very attractive, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he’d basically broken into my home. When my neighbour came out and started talking to the lads who were looking for Dylan, I whispered, “Why did you come here to hide?”

He made a thoughtful expression, his brow furrowing in a way that made him look like a grumpy bear. “What?”

“You could’ve gone into any flat, why this one?”

There was a beat of silece, then finally he whispered back, “Because you’re the only person on this row who wouldn’t feed me to the wolves.”

I arched a brow. “You don’t know that.”

You don’t know me.

Before he had a chance to reply, the banging started on my door. My chest seized, clutched by fear, because I knew the type of blokes who were out there.

Poor. Hard. Brutal.

Suddenly, Dylan was on me again, his hand on my mouth, his body holding mine in place. This time I didn’t struggle, instead I held still and stayed quiet. A shiver trickled down my spine at his closeness. I wasn’t often this close to people I hardly knew.

“Answer the bleedin’ door,” a male voice shouted. “Or I’ll knock it the fuck down.”

“Maybe I should answer and tell them you’re not here,” I whispered against his fingers.

He glanced down at me, probably because my lips were on his skin. He tilted his head, like he found it in some way interesting, then said, “No, they’ll come in and ransack the place.”

I let out an anxious breath. He was right. And I couldn’t do that to Yvonne. I couldn’t have her come home from her shift at the bar to a wrecked flat.

More banging ensued. I startled when a head appeared at the window, though thankfully Yvonne’s net curtains shielded us from view.

“He’s not in there,” someone said. “He probably ran down to the Willows.”

The Willows was a dilapidated block of flats about five minutes away. It was where people went to drink and do drugs. If you were homeless, it was where you went to sleep.

“Come on,” the same person said and the guy peering in the window disappeared. Dylan let go of me, took three strides across the room and looked out through the curtains.

“They’re gone,” he said and exhaled, his shoulders slumping in relief.

“Yes, now you should go, too,” I said, on guard again. I felt on edge having a strange boy in my flat who I’d never even spoken to before. Though ‘boy’ wasn’t exactly the right term. Dylan was probably about a year older than me, eighteen maybe, but he was built like a man. Soon his shoulders would get even broader, his features more defined. He’d be a sight to be reckoned with then, I was sure.

He turned back to look at me, one eyebrow arching as he stared me down. He didn’t do anything for a long moment and then his attention moved about the living room. His tension faded, and something like fondness, or maybe amusement, took its place.

“Big fan of New York?” he asked wryly, taking in all the posters and memorabilia.

I cleared my throat. “No, my aunt Yvonne is. She saw When Harry Met Sally and became obsessed. She’s saving up to move there in a couple years.”

Dylan’s mouth formed an attractive, thoughtful line. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you go with her?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Probably not. My grandma lives in the retirement home in Broadstone. We’re all she has. I couldn’t leave her.”

Dylan took this in, his dark eyes softening, then stepped to the front door. “Thanks for letting me hide here. I owe you one,” he said, ducking his head to make sure the coast was clear.

“Sure,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

He looked back at me one last time. “See ya, Evelyn.” And then he was gone.

***

“I’m sorry, but I’d sell my own mother for a night with Jared Leto, no question,” said Sam as we walked to English on Monday.

“Are we talking 30 Seconds to Mars Jared Leto or Jordan Catalano Jared?” I asked. “Because those are two entirely different kettles of fish.”

30 Seconds, of course. You know I can’t resist a man in eyeliner,” he said then winked. We reached our lockers when a familiar head of sandy brown hair emerged from the crowd.

Dylan.

He must’ve sensed my attention, because his eyes flashed to mine. I sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of him. He had a purple bruise beneath one eye, and there were various other cuts and grazes all over his face. Jesus.

Sam followed where I was looking and made a crass comment. “Looks like Dylan O’Dea likes it rough.”

So it was O’Dea.

“I think he got that beating on the streets, not in the sheets,” I said, chewing worriedly on my lip. Those McCarthy fellas must’ve caught up to him yesterday.

“Good one.” Sam chuckled, but I didn’t share his humour.

A pang of concern hit me square in the chest and I moved toward him automatically, leaving Sam by his locker. Dylan saw me approach and stopped in place, his attention skittering over me. He hitched his bag up on his shoulder and let out a gruff breath. “What?” he asked.

“They got you, didn’t they?”

He shifted from foot to foot, seeming uncomfortable with my concern. “Nah, walked into a wall.”

“Don’t be cute.”

Another sigh. “Yeah. They got me, blondie. Probably better to get it over with anyway. Now maybe they’ll leave me alone.”

I nodded slowly, not sure how to react to his endearment. It wasn’t very original, but it still made my breastplate tingle. “You think?”

“I hope, but who knows.”

“Have any teachers asked about your bruises?”

He gave me an incredulous look. “Where do you think we are? Nobody gives a shit here.”

I hated that he was right. The teachers at this school were either too mean or too downtrodden to care about students’ home lives. In a way, I didn’t blame them. Even the nice teachers eventually got so sick of being bullied and verbally abused that they shut off all their emotions. This wasn’t a soft place to grow up, but I liked to think I still had a heart.

I didn’t think before I said my next words. “Well, I give a shit.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why?”

“Because I’m not an unfeeling rock, that’s why.”

Dylan stared off over my head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You probably should be,” he said, then walked by me and disappeared back into the crowd.

Huh.

“Oh blondie, get your bum over here,” Sam crooned, and I turned back to my friend.

“What?” I asked.

“I didn’t know you and Dylan O’Dea were acquainted.”

I frowned. “We’re not. Not really.”

He folded his arms and pursed his lips. “Sure sounded like you are.”

“He was being chased by some blokes who wanted to beat him yesterday and I let him hide in my flat. That’s it.”

“Oooh, racy. Did he happen to hide in your bedroom by any chance? And did you share a sexy moment once the coast was clear? How did he express his gratitude?”

Trust Sam to turn everything into some sort of risqué soap opera. Although thinking about it, the way Dylan held his hand over my mouth did give me a flutter in my belly.

“He told me he owed me one,” I replied with a shrug. Sam’s eyes glittered.

“That means he owes you a good rogering.”

“Sam!”

“What?”

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“Nothing disgusting about sex with a fella like that, Ev. Besides, you need to lose that flower of yours before it shrivels up and dies.”

I scrunched my face. “Please don’t call it a flower. And anyway, I’m not the only one who needs to lose it, so you can quit talking like you know it all.”

He gave me a sassy look. “If I were as straight and as pretty as you are, I’d have lost it years ago. It’s not exactly easy to find gays in this neck of the woods.”

“Not easy to find gays who are out, you mean. Just wait for the next person who throws some homophobic slur at you and there’s a good chance he’s in the closet.”

“Hmm, I do get a hint of an angry sex vibe from Shane Huntley sometimes. Maybe you’re onto something.”

Speak of the devil. A few seconds after Sam mentioned him, Shane walked by with his ever-present posse of arseholes, usual sneer in place. I wondered why the meanest kids always seemed to have the most friends. I didn’t have a mean bone in my body and the only real friend I had was Sam. Shane walked on, not acknowledging us aside from his sneering expression, and I turned to neaten up my locker.

“I found a book on Freud in Yvonne’s collection,” I told him. “He had this theory that when we see the things we dislike in ourselves in others, we hate on it.”

“Hmm,” said Sam. “Could be some truth to it. But anyway, back to the luscious Mr O’Dea, when are you going to cash in on that debt?”

I chuckled. “Not sure. Maybe the next time I need some help moving furniture. The boy’s got some serious shoulders on him.”

“All the better for throwing you around the bedroom with.”

I shot him an irritable glance. “You’re not going to quit with this, are you?”

His answering wink was pure devilment. “Not in this lifetime, blondie.”

 

Releasing February 6, 2018!

 

 

How the Light Gets in
He came back to me 16 minutes and 59 seconds into Beethoven’s Symphony no. 7.
We parted amid tragedy, so it seemed poetic. Dylan O’Dea, my childhood sweetheart, had once
meant everything to me. Now we were strangers, and honestly, after eleven years I never thought
I’d see him again.
I lived in the world of the average, of getting paid by the hour and budgeting to make ends meet. But
Dylan, he lived in the world of wealth and success. He’d achieved the great things I always suspected
he would. The dissatisfaction he’d felt as a teenager had obviously been an excellent motivator.
He started a business from scratch, pioneered a brand, and created perfumes adored by women
across the globe. I was just one of the people who’d been there before. Now he was living his best
life in the after.
And me, well, I’d been in a dark place for a while. Slowly but surely, I was letting the light back in, but there was something missing. I was an unfinished sentence with an ellipsis at the end. And maybe, if I was brave enough to take the chance, Dylan could be my happy ending.
How the Light Gets In is Book #2 and the concluding installment in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.
About the author:

 

L.H. Cosway lives in Dublin, Ireland. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories. L.H. is represented by Louise Fury at The Bent Agency.

Social Media Links:FB: www.facebook.com/LHCosway
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LHCosway
Instagram: www.instagram.com/l.h.cosway
Website: www.lhcoswayauthor.com
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lhcosway13/

BLOG TOUR – THE CRACKS DUET by L.H. Cosway



We’re celebrating the release of the CRACKS DUET by L.H. Cosway! 

 
Title: A Crack In Everything and How The Light Gets In (Cracks Duet)
Age Group: Adult
Release Date: January 30 & February 6, 2018
Book Description:
A Crack in Everything

Life used to be simple.

I was a city girl with humble dreams. Then Dylan O’Dea broke into my flat, held me against the wall and told me to stay quiet.

It was like in the movies, where the universe zeros in on a single scene. I looked into his eyes and knew he was going to change me.

For Dylan, the sky was always falling. He showed me how our world is a contradiction of beauty and ugliness. How we choose to ignore the awful and gloss over it with the palatable. How you need just a tiny drop of something unsavoury to create every great scent.

Pretty deep for a pair of teenagers living in a block of council flats in inner city Dublin, right Probably. But we weren’t typical. We both had our obsessions. Mine was growing things, Dylan’s was scent. He taught me how to use my nose, and I introduced him to the magic of flowers.

I had no idea that one day he’d build an empire from what we started together. But before that, there was love and happiness, tragedy and epic heartbreak…

My name is Evelyn Flynn and I’m going to tell you about the crack in everything.

A Crack in Everything is Book #1 in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

How the Light Gets in
He came back to me 16 minutes and 59 seconds into Beethoven’s Symphony no. 7.
We parted amid tragedy, so it seemed poetic. Dylan O’Dea, my childhood sweetheart, had once
meant everything to me. Now we were strangers, and honestly, after eleven years I never thought
I’d see him again.
I lived in the world of the average, of getting paid by the hour and budgeting to make ends meet. But
Dylan, he lived in the world of wealth and success. He’d achieved the great things I always suspected
he would. The dissatisfaction he’d felt as a teenager had obviously been an excellent motivator.
He started a business from scratch, pioneered a brand, and created perfumes adored by women
across the globe. I was just one of the people who’d been there before. Now he was living his best
life in the after.
And me, well, I’d been in a dark place for a while. Slowly but surely, I was letting the light back in, but there was something missing. I was an unfinished sentence with an ellipsis at the end. And maybe, if I was brave enough to take the chance, Dylan could be my happy ending.

How the Light Gets In is Book #2 and the concluding installment in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

 

 

About the author:

 

L.H. Cosway lives in Dublin, Ireland. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories. L.H. is represented by Louise Fury at The Bent Agency.

Social Media Links:FB: www.facebook.com/LHCosway
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LHCosway
Instagram: www.instagram.com/l.h.cosway
Website: www.lhcoswayauthor.com
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lhcosway13/

REVIEW – HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN (Cracks Duet #2) by L.H. Cosway

SYNOPSIS

He came back to me 16 minutes and 59 seconds into Beethoven’s Symphony no. 7.

We parted amid tragedy, so it seemed poetic. Dylan O’Dea, my childhood sweetheart, had once meant everything to me. Now we were strangers, and honestly, after eleven years I never thought I’d see him again.

I lived in the world of the average, of getting paid by the hour and budgeting to make ends meet. But Dylan, he lived in the world of wealth and success. He’d achieved the great things I always suspected he would. The dissatisfaction he’d felt as a teenager had obviously been an excellent motivator.

He started a business from scratch, pioneered a brand, and created perfumes adored by women across the globe. I was just one of the people who’d been there before. Now he was living his best life in the after.

And me, well, I’d been in a dark place for a while. Slowly but surely, I was letting the light back in, but there was something missing. I was an unfinished sentence with an ellipsis at the end. And maybe, if I was brave enough to take the chance, Dylan could be my happy ending.

How the Light Gets In is Book #2 and the concluding installment in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

 

*****Dee’s Review*****

4 Bright Stars****

This book is the second part of The Cracks Duet. It was a sweet and beautiful conclusion to a truly captivating story.

These two best friends and lovers were never able to get over each other, and now ten years later, little by little the old cracks of the heart will finally fill up, so love can flourish once again.

 

 

Evelyn stayed behind in the horrible town that took away all the beautiful parts of her life. Dylan left in hopes to one day come back and take his precious girl with him. But Evelyn’s heart felt broken beyond compared, plus she needed to stay and take care of her grandmother.

10 years have passed since Evelyn lost her love and now she finds herself in New York City with the mission of starting over. Little does she know that the beautiful boy she once quit will be waiting for her, offering her not only a new world but something she thought she would never have again…hope.

This was one of the sweetest novels I’ve ever read. The words tasted like candy and I swear I could even smell all the flowers, as I was reading about the meaningful scents Dylan and Evelyn were creating together. This is a book about hope and second chances. Fantastic read, one I would definitely recommend to all my friends.

 

*****Patty’s Review*****

*****FOUR STARS*****
{ARC Generously Provided by Author}

The way he looked at me was all-consuming. Most people could only dream of being looked at in such a way. And there he was right in front of me, his eyes telling me I could have him if only I was brave enough to reach out and take. He made me weak. He made me want. Every part of me fizzled with the need to feel his touch, to touch him.

 

 

HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN picks up eleven years after where the first installment ends. YES. ELEVEN YEARS!! I may have screamed and cried a bit!! Oh, so much time lost for our Hero and Heroine. You could feel just how much in love this couple was and for them to lose over a decade of being in each other’s universe felt like the biggest travesty!

Evelyn is twenty-nine and has been living in New York with her Aunt Yvonne for two months. After her Gran passed away, there was nothing left for Ev in Ireland, and her Aunt convinced her to come to New York. Yvonne sets Ev up with a bartending job at a restaurant she manages. Eleven years after her tragic loss, Ev still has lost the joyous and carefree soul that used to reside within her. She has been wandering aimlessly through life, but she’s in for a shock when Yvonne invites an unexpected guest for dinner…Dylan! She’s completely stunned, and a little embarrassed by how her life has turned out because Dylan pursued his dreams and has become a highly successful entrepreneur. His fragrance line is sold all over the world at his chain of high-end fragrance boutiques.

She tries to keep Dylan at a distance, but the man is determined more than ever to have her back in his life. He lost her twice and there’s no way he’s letting Ev slip through his fingers again. Every time they are together you can almost feel his adoration pouring out from the pages of the book. I fell even harder for Dylan. What I couldn’t understand was why Ev kept trying to fight it and why at times she almost seemed resentful, when she was the one that sent him away all those years ago. I wanted a Heroine that was more deserving of his love.

Here are my overall ratings on the book:

Heroes: 5
Heroine: 3.5
Plot: 4
Angst: 4
Steam: 4
Chemistry Between Hero & Heroine: 4.5

HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN releases on February 6th!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2GfvMmO
iBooks: https://apple.co/2n9grg1
Nook: http://bit.ly/2n9RWyf
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2F9klMf

REVIEW – A CRACK IN EVERYTHING (Cracks Duet #1) by L.H. Cosway

SYNOPSIS

Life used to be simple.

I was a city girl with humble dreams. Then Dylan O’Dea broke into my flat, held me against the wall and told me to stay quiet.
It was like in the movies, where the universe zeros in on a single scene. I looked into his eyes and knew he was going to change me.

For Dylan, the sky was always falling. He showed me how our world is a contradiction of beauty and ugliness. How we choose to ignore the awful and gloss over it with the palatable. How you need just a tiny drop of something unsavoury to create every great scent.

Pretty deep for a pair of teenagers living in a block of council flats in inner city Dublin, right? Probably. But we weren’t typical. We both had our obsessions. Mine was growing things, Dylan’s was scent. He taught me how to use my nose, and I introduced him to the magic of flowers.

I had no idea that one day he’d build an empire from what we started together. But before that, there was love and happiness, tragedy and epic heartbreak…

My name is Evelyn Flynn and I’m going to tell you about the crack in everything.

A Crack in Everything is Book #1 in L.H. Cosway’s Cracks duet.

 

*****Dee’s Review*****

FIVE STARS *****

Another beautiful masterpiece by L.H Cosway. Like every other story that I’ve ever read by this author, A Crack In Everything took hold of my heart from the very beginning. The beautiful characters, especially Sam, made an everlasting impression on me. Outstanding read!!!

 

 

 

A beautiful friendship that ends in tragedy, another friendship that turns into love. Pain and heartache can change your future in only one minute. And the only memory of that love can be the beautiful smell of a flower.

 

 

*****Patty’s Review*****

*****4.5 STARS*****
{ARC Generously Provided by Author}

The way he spoke made me feel a sense of urgency, like I was watching a person race somewhere far beyond the horizon. I could try to follow, but I’d never be fast enough. Maybe that was the allure of Dylan O’Dea. He wasn’t meant for a place like this, and he wouldn’t be here long. I could feel it in my bones.

 

 

The ”Cracks Duet” is a tale of first loves, loss, and second chances. As always L.H. Cosway has created a story that reeled me in and held me captive. There are some amazing characters, but my heart completely melted for Dylan O’Dea. He’s a book boyfriend who will undoubtedly sweep many readers off their feet!

Dylan and Evelyn are two high school students who live in a low-income housing development in a town whose inhabitants are working class citizens who are barely making ends meet. There’s very little hope for a promising future for kids born into these circumstances, but Evelyn is filled with light and optimism. She looks for the good in everything. Evelyn makes a beautiful oasis by cultivating a rooftop garden where she plants her favorite flowers. At seventeen years old, she’s never had a serious boyfriend and when the mysterious and beautiful boy who lives in her building starts to show interest in Ev, it’s unfathomable to her.

Ev had only three people whom she held dear to her heart, her Gran, her Aunt, and her best-friend Sam. Dylan starts to become an integral part of her life and while it excites Ev, it also terrifies her because she knows that there is no way their love can last. Dylan is a brilliant student with a superhuman sense of smell. On the weekends, he works at a department store, selling high-end perfume. His dream is to someday create his own fragrance line. Dylan wants to leave Ireland and move to the U.S. so badly, there’s no question that he’s going to make his dreams come true. But there’s one thing he wants even more, and that’s for Ev to come with him. Ev is stubborn and adamant about staying where she is so that she can care for her Gran. She’s hiding behind that excuse because deep down she’s afraid to take a chance and a personal tragedy has burned out the light that used to radiate from within her.

Here are my overall ratings on the book:

Heroes: 5
Heroine: 4
Plot: 4.5
Angst: 4
Steam: 4
Chemistry Between Hero & Heroine: 4.5

The first installment ends in massive heartbreak. You will need a box of tissues and be prepared for the ugly cry.

Will Dylan and Ev find their way back to each other? One can only hope. 😊

A CRACK IN EVERYTHING is currently available! A definite one-click worthy book!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2DvxZc5
iBooks: https://apple.co/2BsghVg
Nook: http://bit.ly/2n7Od4k
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2Gd10ez

EXCERPT REVEAL – MEMPHIS by Ginger Scott

Check out the amazing excerpt of Memphis by Ginger Scott! We are so excited about this release!
Memphis by Ginger Scott
A Contemporary New Adult Romance
Release day: February 23
Goodreads

Blurb:

My mom always said it was just something about the way he moved.

The same swagger Archie Valentine wore in the ring when he took his opponents down followed him like a halo everywhere he went. But make no mistake about it—he was no angel. He was like a drug. My mother was his addict.I never understood it…how love could make you blind and convince you to drink the poison. Not until I met Memphis Delaney.

At first, it was the familiar form. He’s a fighter, built like a god from the past, the kind of man the universe doesn’t make anymore. His eyes hide a story, and every time I’m in his presence I want to keep reading him until I get to the end. And then…there’s the way he moves. His boxing is violent but beautiful, and his body is a seductive weapon. When he’s in the ring, he wears the stare of a man committed to the battle until his very last breath.

He could end me; turn me into her. Too much of him will leave me as a shadow, and I’ve lost so much of myself already.

But I have discipline. It came the hard way. Lessons learned, scars left behind, and trust stripped away from life.

I will breathe his air, but I won’t fall for a man like him. The only boxer who’s ever going to break my heart is the one who gave me my name.

EXCERPT:
“Come here,” he says, calling me with a finger.

I wait a second before giving in, letting my arms fall to my sides as I take the few steps from where I am to where he is. His hands wrap around my biceps as soon as I’m near enough and I breathe in fast, just once. His eyes widen a little.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he smirks.

My gaze is held by his when he speaks. He holds it hostage and when I start to look away, his hands slide down to my wrists and he shakes them lightly until I look at him again. His head tilts, and he waits until I get it.

I’m stronger than I look.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling my lip in tight, so afraid I’m not. I’m stubborn for certain. I’m hardened and jaded. I’m not sure if any of that makes me strong.

My muscles bend to Memphis’s will as he threads his fingers through my right ones and lifts my arm, his other hand holding my elbow into my side. He lets go of my fingers and wraps his palm over my knuckles forming a fist and then moves my entire arm forward slowly, stopping when my body lunges with it.

“Here. You lose everything…right here,” he says, stopping my fist where it is then placing the tips of his fingers on my hips.

Memphis’s eyes are intent on where his hand rests at my waist, and he pauses to take a breath, his tongue pinched by his teeth, his lips twitching up at the corners, his eyes blinking fast—all in a second.

I think about kissing him again right now.

“Your weight is already spent, and you haven’t even made impact with something yet. Think about it,” he says, eyes flitting up to mine.

I shake my head a little from the brief stare and silence we share.

“Okay,” I say, following his lead as he brings my arm back and steps behind me.

“You hit me hard, but that was without everything you have behind it. Imagine,” he begins, adjusting his hold on me, his right hand sliding down my arm and covering my hand, feet straddling one of mine from behind, his chest against my back, his breath at my neck and a thousand beads of nerves dotting my skin.

“You’re here,” he says, his voice low and right at my ear.

My eyes flutter when his left hand runs down the side of my body to my hip, and my breath hitches when he grips it more forcefully.

“Your opponent is standing right there. Do you see him?”

I nod.

“Yes,” I say, my voice barely audible.

“He’s cocking,” he says, and I giggle at the word while his nose moves closer to my skin, tickling against my ear. “You’re such a child.”

I clear my throat and wriggle my hips and roll my shoulders, all under his touch.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” I say, still smiling.

A short breath escapes him in laughter.

“He’s about to swing, okay?” he says, coaxing me to focus.

“Trust me.” His voice falls to a whisper, and my eyes fall closed.

Memphis drives my body, the space between us gone so much that I am lying against him while standing. His hand brings mine up, tucking it close to our bodies. His fingers splay on my thigh, and my leg feels strong. He leans with me, our bodies in sync as we twist to the left, our right shoulders stretching backward, necks rolling until we’re nearly back where we started.

“His balance is off,” he says at my neck. There are no areas of my body that aren’t affected by the vibration of his voice. “You have him. He’s yours. You have balance. His is gone. This is where you win.”

His hand holds my left side still, and his right hand brings me back to swing with a tighter form than I had before. He takes me through the motion once slowly, almost like we’re just part of some intimate ballet performance, then he brings my fist back in and tucks his chin into the side of my neck.

“Again,” he says, this time leading me through the motion faster as his hand slides from its hold on my hip to my diaphragm.

“Breathe out,” he says, and I do slowly at first, but with each swing we repeat, the motion is faster.

My air escapes with my thrust, my body something mechanical now, parts working in unison until I’m able to do it all on my own.

“Keep going,” Memphis says as he steps away. My eyes flit open, and I imagine everything that has ever hurt me. I see their faces—my parents, Enoch, the angry crowds at trials, reporters.

Memphis picks up one of the pads and steps closer as I swing, bending down to hand lift one of my abandoned gloves, eventually holding his palm out for me to pause.

“Put it on, and I want you to hit me now…not like before. Hit me with what you know. Hit me with what you feel, but always there is balance. You can’t give that away. It’s not theirs to have.”

My eyes lock on his as he slides the glove over my knuckles and I form a raw fist with my other hand. He takes two small steps back and readies himself before nodding.

I clear my lungs and consider his words and everything he just led my body through. I was so strong. I’m stronger than I think I am.

My feet shift to find the perfect fit against the mat, and I bring my hands in, fists raised and ready.

“He’s going to swing now,” Memphis says, and I react just as he taught me.

I dodge. The motion so swift and natural I barely remember doing it before my legs steady themselves, my middle twists and my arm swings forward, fist landing in the same spot as it did before only this time my body doesn’t stumble. Memphis does. Inches, but there is reaction to my action.

“Ha,” I breathe out in disbelief. My eyes lift from the fist-shaped dent in the pad to Memphis, and my lips part in awe.

“Yeah,” he says, glancing around to the front of the pad. “You did that by yourself.”

Giddiness takes over my face, my mouth stretching wide with parted lips. Memphis lets the pad fall again, and the physical proof from my force disappears as the padding evens out. It was there, though. I fought back, and left a mark. More than seeing it, I felt it. I still feel it.

“I want to do that again,” I say, blinking as my vision slides from the pad to Memphis’s proud smile.

“Baby steps, Champ. Let me show you a few drills, and then maybe you can punch me one more time before we’re done,” he says, chuckling.

“I wasn’t hitting you,” I say, handing him the glove.

He holds it in both of his hands before bending down to pick up the other glove, pairing them together. His gaze hits mine.

“I know who you were hitting.” Silence settles in for a long second. I don’t have to respond; Memphis doesn’t expect it.

About the Author:

Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice Award-nominated author of several young and new adult romances, including Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How We Deal With Gravity, This Is Falling, You and Everything After, The Girl I Was Before, Wild Reckless, Wicked Restless, In Your Dreams, The Hard Count, Hold My Breath, A Boy Like You and A Girl Like Me.

A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. (She’s also a sucker for a hot quarterback, catcher, pitcher, point guard…the list goes on.) Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.

When she’s not writing, the odds are high that she’s somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork ’em, Devils).

Social Media Links:
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/GingerScottAuthor
Twitter: @TheGingerScott
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/thegingerscott/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/GingerScottAuthor
Google: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+GingerScottAuthor/posts
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/GingerScott
Website: http://www.littlemisswrite.com

BLOG TOUR – THE OTHER BROTHER by Meghan Quinn



THE OTHER BROTHER by Meghan Quinn is finally here! Check out the excerpt and teasers!

 

THE OTHER BROTHER
NA Romantic Comedy
Model: David Harris
PREORDER HERE:
I got the call. The dreaded call every child fears. My dad wasn’t well, and the man who had always been my everything needed me.
There was only one thing to do; pack up and head back to my hometown. I had finally made my dream life in the city with the great job and loving boyfriend. But was there really a choice not to go?
I found a wonderful job, a quaint house to rent, my boyfriend was working on joining me in Binghamton, and my favorite pizza place was only miles away. Life was good.
Until I met my neighbor.
It’s been three years since I’d seen Aaron Walters, and my God is he all kinds of sexy gorgeous. Figures. He was supposed to be my forever, the man I grew old with, but he had different plans. How can a man who ripped my heart apart still trip me up? How can he make me still want him now more than ever?
I’m tempted, I’m drawn toward him, I’m completely and utterly unaware that I’m dating his biological brother.
Now two men own my heart. The question is, which brother will I choose?
EXCERPT:

Why? Why does he have to magically appear in my life? Moving back to Binghamton, I thought about the possibility of maybe running into him, but I thought it unlikely, something that would never really happen.

Boy, was I wrong.

What a sick joke life is playing on me.

Aaron Walters, the boy who broke me into pieces is my neighbor.

I can’t fathom the impact I feel already.

Seeing him in hip-hugging jeans and a tight, plain shirt did a number on me. It kept me up all night as memories of what we used to have flooded my mind.

His voice.

His stature.

The way he used to kiss my neck.

The way I felt so protected in his arms.

Too bad his arms couldn’t protect me from his devastating, heart-breaking self.

And hell, he looked good. Too good.

He’s always been tall with handsome features and a chiseled jaw, but now he’s bulked up to the point that I could see his abs flexing under his shirt, the same shirt that stretched over his biceps.

But it wasn’t his muscles or handsome features that once again made my heart ache, it was those eyes. So bright, so blue, so kind, but still so sad. It reminded me of the first day I met him, of the day he stole my heart from every other man on the market.

Broken, unsure, yet yearning for love. It was all there, and like experiencing a moment of déjà vu, I was transported back into a time when I felt invisible, like I could conquer anything with him at my side.

Once again, I was wrong.

 

 

About the Author:
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
Find me on Goodreads:

REVIEW – THE OTHER BROTHER by Meghan Quinn

SYNOPSIS

I got the call. The dreaded call every child fears. My dad wasn’t well, and the man who had always been my everything needed me.

There was only one thing to do; pack up and head back to my hometown. I had finally made my dream life in the city with the great job and loving boyfriend. But was there really a choice not to go?

I found a wonderful job, a quaint house to rent, my boyfriend was working on joining me in Binghamton, and my favorite pizza place was only miles away. Life was good.

Until I met my neighbor.

It’s been three years since I’d seen Aaron Walters, and my God is he all kinds of sexy gorgeous. Figures. He was supposed to be my forever, the man I grew old with, but he had different plans. How can a man who ripped my heart apart still trip me up? How can he make me still want him now more than ever?

I’m tempted, I’m drawn toward him, I’m completely and utterly unaware that I’m dating his biological brother.

Now two men own my heart. The question is, which brother will I choose?

 

*****Patty’s Review*****

*****FOUR STARS*****
{ARC Generously Provided by Author}

Deep down I know I was made for loving Amelia, but despite that, our paths never perfectly crossed. You can love someone with all of your heart, but if the timing is off, it never works out.

 

 

I had no idea when I read the synopsis for THE OTHER BROTHER, that this was the book I’ve been anxiously waiting for Meghan Quinn to write. If you’ve read ”My Best Friend’s Ex” and ”Twisted Twosome”, then you have already met our hero, Aaron Walters ‘aka’ Smalls. This guy has intrigued me from the moment he was introduced in the series. He seemed to be such a mystery. The guy is single and gorgeous and women seem to fall all over themselves to be near him but for whatever reason, he never seemed to be the least bit interested. I knew Smalls had a story, but never expected it to be as heartbreaking as it turned out to be.

Aaron didn’t grow up in a loving and nurturing environment when he was a young boy. His mom was addicted to drugs and she ended up giving both of his younger brothers up for adoption when they each were born. Over the years he was able to keep in touch with his brothers but only sporadically and yet enough to know that they were the lucky ones because they were brought up by very loving adoptive parents. Aaron always questioned why his mother didn’t seem to think he deserved to have a shot at a better life like his younger brothers and it left him a little bitter, but years later when he meets Amelia Santos, he finally gets the chance to experience true happiness.

 

 

Amelia and Aaron fall head over heels in love and are truly two halves of a whole. For nearly two years their lives are blissful but then Aaron’s old insecurities surface and end up tearing the couple apart. At the time Aaron didn’t consider himself to be worthy of Amelia’s love and feared that if he stayed in the relationship with her, that she would end up passing on once in a lifetime opportunities, and so he pushes her away and winds up breaking Amelia’s heart.

Fast forward three years and we are brought to the present where “Smalls” now co-owns a construction company with his two best friends and he also owns a beautiful two-story house in a cozy neighborhood. He’s the most beloved neighbor on his block because he never hesitates to lend a helping hand wherever he’s needed. He’s in for the shock of his life when he meets his new next-door neighbor, who turns out to be Amelia. Their reunion is anything but warm as Amelia’s heart was nearly obliterated when Aaron walked away from her, and even though it’s been three years, it would seem that she’s never gotten over that heartache.

 

 

Amelia left her boyfriend back in Astoria, NY and moved to Binghamton in order to be close to her father who suffers from dementia. The plan was for her boyfriend to also move up with her once he was able to get a job in the area as well. She’s completely thrown off balance when she comes face to face with Aaron again. And while he tries to be neighborly and even extends his hand in friendship, Amelia doesn’t jump at the chance to reciprocate. Eventually, Aaron is able to charm his way back into her life and even though he is aware she has a boyfriend, he’s determined to make the most of this second chance he might actually have with Amelia.

Get ready for some shocking revelations and I guarantee that Aaron’s story is going to tug at your heart. I know I shed a tear or two for all of the sadness he held on to and for his inability to believe that he was worthy and deserving of a happily ever after.

Here are my overall ratings on the book:

Heroe: 4
Heroine: 4
Plot: 4.5
Angst: 4
Steam: 4
Chemistry Between Hero & Heroine: 4.5

LIVE – THE OTHER BROTHER by Meghan Quinn



THE OTHER BROTHER by Meghan Quinn is finally here! Check out the excerpt and teasers!

 

THE OTHER BROTHER
NA Romantic Comedy
Model: David Harris
PREORDER HERE:
I got the call. The dreaded call every child fears. My dad wasn’t well, and the man who had always been my everything needed me.
There was only one thing to do; pack up and head back to my hometown. I had finally made my dream life in the city with the great job and loving boyfriend. But was there really a choice not to go?
I found a wonderful job, a quaint house to rent, my boyfriend was working on joining me in Binghamton, and my favorite pizza place was only miles away. Life was good.
Until I met my neighbor.
It’s been three years since I’d seen Aaron Walters, and my God is he all kinds of sexy gorgeous. Figures. He was supposed to be my forever, the man I grew old with, but he had different plans. How can a man who ripped my heart apart still trip me up? How can he make me still want him now more than ever?
I’m tempted, I’m drawn toward him, I’m completely and utterly unaware that I’m dating his biological brother.
Now two men own my heart. The question is, which brother will I choose?
EXCERPT:

Why? Why does he have to magically appear in my life? Moving back to Binghamton, I thought about the possibility of maybe running into him, but I thought it unlikely, something that would never really happen.

Boy, was I wrong.

What a sick joke life is playing on me.

Aaron Walters, the boy who broke me into pieces is my neighbor.

I can’t fathom the impact I feel already.

Seeing him in hip-hugging jeans and a tight, plain shirt did a number on me. It kept me up all night as memories of what we used to have flooded my mind.

His voice.

His stature.

The way he used to kiss my neck.

The way I felt so protected in his arms.

Too bad his arms couldn’t protect me from his devastating, heart-breaking self.

And hell, he looked good. Too good.

He’s always been tall with handsome features and a chiseled jaw, but now he’s bulked up to the point that I could see his abs flexing under his shirt, the same shirt that stretched over his biceps.

But it wasn’t his muscles or handsome features that once again made my heart ache, it was those eyes. So bright, so blue, so kind, but still so sad. It reminded me of the first day I met him, of the day he stole my heart from every other man on the market.

Broken, unsure, yet yearning for love. It was all there, and like experiencing a moment of déjà vu, I was transported back into a time when I felt invisible, like I could conquer anything with him at my side.

Once again, I was wrong.

 

 

About the Author:
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
Find me on Goodreads: