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GUEST POST: Remmy Duchene

Hi everyone!

Thank you so much for stopping by! I’m Remmy Duchene, author of Interracial Romance (sensual, erotic, sweet – depending on my mood lol).

Today, I’m here to gab about my newest release coming to Pride Publishing titled The Smell of Camellias. This story has a special place in my heart because it is the first time a reader has requested a story from me. One of my readers, who’ve been with me for years now, asked if I could write a longer piece with the Blasian (Black/Asian) mixed. Of course, I was flattered, excited, even cried a little (Says my friends – I mean, I had something in my eyes) but then I freaked out.

Why? I am notorious for starting a story and 15-20 thousand words in, scrapping it because it makes no sense to me. I didn’t want this to happen with this story and I wanted it to be something kind of similar to a Korean Drama but not really. There has never been an interracial Korean Drama of this magnitude so I was free to work with my own imagination.

Sung-go’s name was changed about eight times. No word of a lie. I had to make sure his name wasn’t similar to any of the other Korean men I’d written in the past. Though, if you research the names from the culture and watch as many dramas and listen to as much Kpop as I do, the names are remarkable similar.

I actually created Frank for another story – he was going to be a rapper who was still in the closet but somehow the personality that came through didn’t mesh well with that story so I brought him over to Camellias.

I think these two works really well together.

Different story brings out a different love in me. For The Smell of Camellias I was able to mesh my love of Korean Dramas, my adoration for culture and writing multicultural romance (With tons of spice) and toss in a little drama to make it all sizzle.

To add to that, this book comes out four days before my birthday!! But since I declared June my month (lol) and I’m sharing it with Pride Month in Toronto – I am over the moon about this release!

I’m very lucky to be able to do this.

Blurb

Broken to be whole…

After a life that had little to be desired, Frank Dunn has a sea of possibilities ahead of him. Young, good-looking with a kick-ass education and credentials from Cal Tech, Frank is ready to take on the world. When he is offered his dream job, Frank jumps on it even though he has to move to South Korea. Since he has no family except his best friend, staying put is irrelevant.

Sung-Go Hyun is the man when it comes to White Tiger Industries—a multi-billion-dollar luxury automotive giant in South Korea. From the outside, people think he has it all, but he knows his struggles and they have left him stoic. When he meets Frank Dunn, they immediately butt heads. Sung-Go is instantly attracted to the brown-eyed devil and Sung-Go hates that. But since his heart isn’t going to cooperate, Sung-Go decides to go after what he wants. Frank on the other hand wants nothing to do with Sung-Go or his bed.

Sung-Go isn’t used to such a reaction, but he will have to learn that Frank would rather burn Sung-Go’s world to the ground than submit.

Links

You can snag The Smell of Camellias from Pride at https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/the-smell-of-camellias or wherever you tend to buy your Remmy sexiness!

Website: https://remmyduchene.wix.com/remmymantasy

Twitter: @remmyduchene

Instagram: @Manluvlikeaboss

And you can find me on Facebook

*hugs*

Remmy D

About the author

Multi-published Remmy Duchene was born in St. Anns, Jamaica and moved to Canada at a young age. When not working or writing, Remmy loves dabbling in photography, travelling and spending time with friends and family.

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EXCERPT & GIVEAWAY: Sunset at Pencarrow by Anne Barwell and Lou Sylvre

Thanks for hosting us here today as part of our blog tour for Sunset at Pencarrow.

We have a Rafflecopter running as part of the blog tour so be sure to enter—which you can more than once. Use the discount code PENCARROW for 30% off Sunset at Pencarrow only from the Dreamspinner Press store from 31st May-30th June.

Blurb

Kiwi Nathaniel Dunn is in a fighting mood, but how does a man fight Wellington’s famous fog? In the last year, Nate’s lost his longtime lover to boredom and his ten-year job to the economy. Now he’s found a golden opportunity for employment where he can even use his artistic talent, but to get the job, he has to get to Christchurch today. Heavy fog means no flight, and the ticket agent is ignoring him to fawn over a beautiful but annoying, overly polite American man.

Rusty Beaumont can deal with a canceled flight, but the pushy Kiwi at the ticket counter is making it difficult for him to stay cool. The guy rubs him all the wrong ways despite his sexy working-man look, which Rusty notices even though he’s not looking for a man to replace the fiancé who died two years ago. Yet when they’re forced to share a table at the crowded airport café, Nate reveals the kind heart behind his grumpy façade. An earthquake, sex in the bush, and visits from Nate’s belligerent ex turn a day of sightseeing into a slippery slope that just might land them in love.

World of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the globe.

Excerpt

“I don’t bloody believe this.” Nathaniel “Nate” Dunn took a deep breath. “So, any idea when my flight might actually leave?”

The woman at the counter gave him what she probably thought was a pleasant smile. Instead it came across as condescending with a touch of oh help me, God, how stupid is this guy?

“I’ve already told you—” She glanced at his ticket. “—Mr. Dunn… Nathaniel… I don’t have that information. The fog will lift when it decides to lift, and we can’t begin to reschedule flights until that time. In the meantime, you’ll have to wait like everyone else.”

“You don’t understand. I have to be in Christchurch this afternoon. I have a job interview tomorrow.”

“Of course you do.” The woman seemed ready to dismiss him but then appeared to reconsider. “If you’re desperate, perhaps you can catch the afternoon ferry sailing to Picton and then a flight from either Blenheim or Nelson.”

“The ferries are full.” Nate read the name on her badge—Heather Rawlins. “Ms. Rawlins, I’ve already thought of that.” He waved his hand to indicate the very full airport. Many of those in line behind him were students. Several of them looked very young, and they had parents hovering around them. Probably their first time away from home, and not a great start to a course of study at either Canterbury or Otago universities. “Uni starts back last week of February. That’s next week. There’s only me and several hundred others trying to make it to the South Island.”

“You’d better settle in and wait, then, hadn’t you? This might take a while.” Heather looked past him. “Next, please.”

“Charming,” Nate muttered. Why the hell had the fog decided to pick today of all days to turn up? Beautiful weather for weeks, and on the only day he needed to fly out of Wellington, the bloody stuff foiled his plans. His flatmate, Amy, had warned him to be prepared for delays when they hadn’t been able to see the airport from across the harbor that morning, but he hadn’t listened. Fog in the morning didn’t mean the stupid stuff would hang around all day. Typical of his luck lately. “Windy Wellington” and today there wasn’t even a breeze to blow the fog out.

It was a conspiracy.

Much like the rest of his life. One could only take so much of pretending everything was hunky-dory and plastering on a false smile. He was sick of it. Bad enough that Glenn—who he’d thought was the “one,” the guy he’d be with forever—had dumped him, but to find out his job of the last ten years was finishing as well? And now this….

“Next, please,” Heather repeated.

“Excuse me, sir,” a man behind him said in an American accent. “There’s a line here, and I’m sure the lady has done all she could to help you.”

Buy Links

Dreamspinner Press (Discount code PENCARROW from 5/31-6/30, 30% off, DSP store only.)

Google Books

iTunes

Kobo

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Giveaway

Click here to enter the Rafflecopter

Blog Tour

We hope you’ll join us for the other stops on the tour.  Click here to see the complete schedule and links to the blogs.

About the Authors

Anne Barwell

Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand. She works in a library, is an avid reader and watcher across genres, and is constantly on the lookout for more hours in her day. Music often plays a part in her stories, and although she denies being a romantic at heart, the men in her books definitely are.  Anne has written in several genres—contemporary, fantasy, historical, and SF— and believes in making her characters work for their happy endings.

Website: http://annebarwell.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/anne.barwell.1

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/annebarwell

Email: darthanne@gmail.com

Lou Sylvre

Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The romantics on her pages are men who fall hard for each other, end up deeply in love, and often save each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very sexy. Among other things, Lou is the creator of the popular Vasquez and James series , which can be found at Dreamspinner Press, Amazon, and many other online vendors.

Website: http://www.sylvre.rainbow-gate.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLouSylvre/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/sylvre

Email: lou.sylvre@gmail.com

 

Lou and Anne’s shared Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/sylvrebarwellhoffmann/

 

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RELEASE BLITZ with GIVEAWAY: Misdemeanor by CF White

 

Buy Links:  Pride Publishing (Early Download) Amazon US | Amazon UK (Out July 4)

Blurb

After his mother tragically dies and his deadbeat father goes off the rails, nineteen-year-old Micky is left to care for his disabled little brother, Flynn.
   
Juggling college, a dead end job and Flynn’s special needs means Micky has to put his bad boy past behind him and be the responsible adult to keep his brother out of care. He doesn’t have time for anything else in his life.
Until he meets Dan.

“Amazingly gritty and raw. This slice of life is so realistic it flays you.” – Pride Publishing

Excerpt
 

The Sun Keeps Rising

“Shit!”

Micky cursed loudly and squinted through the morning glare to read the alarm clock that was obviously having trouble performing its one and only basic function. He threw off his duvet and jumped out of bed, his foot landing on a plastic wind-up toy penguin discarded on the floor. The penguin openly mocked him by tossing itself into a noisy backflip.

“Fuck!”

Micky cursed again, bending down to pick up the toy and throw it savagely against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces and Micky felt instantly guilty.

“Flynn!” he yelled, hopping over to his bedroom door and yanking it open. Treading more carefully to the bathroom opposite, he rubbed his eyes before coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror above the sink.

He looked like shit. No change there. The three hours of almost sleep he’d gotten obviously hadn’t done anything to improve on his disheveled appearance. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. He needed to shave but now didn’t have the time. Micky turned on the tap, dunked his head under the cold stream and squeezed paste onto his toothbrush.

“Flynn!” he shouted again, louder this time, before shoving the toothbrush into his gob and brushing vigorously. The minty taste did nothing for his dry mouth.

“Yes, Micky,” came a quiet little voice from the bathroom doorway.

Still holding the toothbrush between his lips, foam dripping out from the side of his mouth, Micky turned.

“We’re late,” he said, trying to suck the minty drool back up and stop it escaping from the corners.

“I’m dressed,” Flynn replied with a huge proud smile.

Flynn stood in the doorway, clutching another wind-up plastic toy. He kept spinning the thing around, setting off an ear-piercing buzz as it unwound at double speed. He appeared so small and fragile. More like a five-year-old than his actual eight years. He’d gotten dressed. Sort of. He’d managed to pull on his gray school trousers over his pajama bottoms and his army-green jumper clung inside out. No socks, and his mousy-brown curls stuck out from his head in all directions.

Micky’s heart melted a little at the sight.

“Well done, Flynn.” Micky finished brushing his teeth, spat down the plughole and cupped a handful of water into his mouth to rinse. Turning back to his brother, Micky then crouched in front of him. “But how about we try taking the pajamas off?”

Flynn looked down, waggling his toes, and back up at his big brother. “Why?” he asked, confused. “I put them back on later.”

Micky laughed. The kid had a point.

“Come on.” Micky took hold of Flynn’s hand to walk him back into the small box room. It had twin beds, pushed up against opposite sides. One had used to belong to Micky before he’d moved into the master bedroom.

“What time did you get up today?” Micky asked, dragging Flynn’s jumper over his head.

“Five five two,” Flynn replied.

He wound up the blasted plastic toy again and Micky breathed in deeply, preventing his immediate instinctive reaction to take the thing and smash it against the wall in comradeship with its penguin mate.

“That’s early,” Micky said, pulling off Flynn’s pajama top then rooting around in the drawer for his brother’s school polo shirt. He found it scrunched at the bottom and helped Flynn squirm into it while trying to smooth out the creases.

“For what?” Flynn asked, holding on to Micky’s shoulder as he knelt and stepped out of his trousers.

“Everything,” Micky replied with a yawn.

“Daddy didn’t say it was.”

Micky looked into Flynn’s blue eyes. The white starburst pattern within them gave him the feeling of being hypnotized. Micky blinked.

“Dad’s not here, Flynn,” Micky said slowly, standing to inspect his now school-uniform-clad little brother.

“Yes, he is.” Flynn smiled widely, his plastic toy buzzing in his hands.

Micky stared down at for a brief moment, then spun around and ran full pelt down the stairs and into the living room. The place was dark and dank, stinking of booze and fags with beer cans littering the floor.

Micky yanked open the curtains to witness the disgusting figure sprawled on the sofa. Tatty stonewashed denim jeans bagged around his knees and the T-shirt he wore, once white in color, was stained yellow with patches of Micky didn’t want to know what. His greasy, graying hair hung around his face like rats’ tails. He was snoring and every breath out from his wide-open mouth filled the room with a putrid stench.

Micky kicked at the arm dangling off the sofa. The man grumbled but didn’t move. Micky kicked him again, more fiercely. Opening one eye, the brute belched as he squinted through the glaring sunlight.

“Get the fuck out,” Micky demanded.

The laughter that followed made Micky’s skin crawl, along with the irritating scratching of fingernails across the man’s chest. The shirt rubbed against the curly dark hairs scattering his fat body and made the unbearable scraping of nails down a chalk board.

“Now,” Micky growled.

The grunted response wasn’t something Micky could decipher, nor did he care to. Micky watched with contempt as he rolled off the sofa and landed on the floor with a thump. Several beer cans crunched under his heavy frame and he rolled again to push up on to all fours. Grunting once more, he heaved himself to stand. He tripped on his own feet and clutched at the wall. Micky clenched his fists at the ready as the second loud belch blasted out and Micky had to turn away from the oncoming stink.

“Money,” he demanded, holding out a hand.

“Get fucked,” Micky spat back.

“Then I take his.”

He staggered over to the fireplace mantelpiece and made a grab for the handmade clay moneybox shaped like a car. Micky wrapped firm fingers around his wrist and squeezed tightly.

“Over my dead body.” Micky gritted his teeth. Clutching the wrist harder, he used his other hand to root around in the dirty jeans pocket and yanked out a key. Shaking his head, Micky shoved him away. “Now leave, before I fucking kill you.”

“Micky?” Flynn’s delicate little voice squeaked from the living room door. He clung to the plastic toy still in his hand, his eyes tightly shut.

Micky ran over, picked him up and settled him on his hip. For an eight-year-old, Flynn weighed no more than a couple of stone, his body skin and bones. It wasn’t his fault. It was the condition. Flynn rested his head on Micky’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his big brother’s neck, still clamping his eyes shut.

“It’s okay, Flynn. Dad’s leaving now.”

 
Author Bio
 

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

Having worked in Higher Education for most of her career, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper after she’d written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Having embarked on this writing malarkey, C F White cannot stop. So strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride…

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