☀ Lyrical Press Contemporary Romances: L. Kilraine, C. Maurice, M. McConnell, L.M. Brown

Thank you for joining us for The Lyrical Press Contemporary Romances Tour! Our featured newly released titles today are:

Could This Be Love? (Cates Brothers, #2) by Lee Kilraine
Not Second Best (Drawn To The Rhyth, #4.5) by Christa Maurice
Spooning Daisy (Otter Bite, #1) by Maggie McConnell
Working It (The It Girl, #3) by Leah Marie Brown

Below you will find synopsis, excerpts, and purchasing links for each novel, as well as author bios and contact information.

The authors will be awarding digital copies of all four books on the tour to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour.   Please do take part: comment on our post and follow the tour where you will be able to read other excerpts (☀).

The Books | Author Q&A | About the Authors | Giveaway & Tour Stops

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The Lyrical Press Contemporary Romances Books

|| Could This Be Love? || Not Second Best || Spooning Daisy ||  Working It ||

Could This Be Love? by Lee Kilraine

[7 June 2016, Lyrical Shine, 230 pages. This is the second book in the Cates Brothers series.]  PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below.  Read the first chapter with Amazon Look Inside.

Synopsis

Everyone in Climax, North Carolina, knows the Cates brothers. But Sijan Cates is famous far beyond his quaint hometown--and when he comes back, he brings trouble with him...

Avery Danford urgently needs to get back in touch with her estranged family. If only she could get her picture in the papers, maybe they'd track her down...and what better way to accomplish that than to squeeze into the world's tightest dress and cozy up to the world's hottest actor, Sijan Cates? It's a crazy idea, but it just might work. And though the former actress has sworn off Hollywood hunks, she's got to admit this desperate measure might be a pleasure...

Scandal-plagued Sijan has come home for some peace and quiet--and to stay out of the tabloids. Then a woman claiming to be his number-one fan plants a hot kiss on him--in front of a pack of paparazzi. There's only one way to protect his reputation: tell the world they're engaged. It's all just a show, as they use each other to get what they need. But in this sleepy Southern town, love stories have a way of coming true...

Excerpt

Chapter One

[...] Avery Danford needed some bone marrow.
      Well, she didn’t. Her sister Tansy did. A kidney would have been easier, since she had two. Spermwould have been easier.
      “Why doesn’t she need sperm? Sperm would be a piece of cake. I probably know five guys that would give me sperm today,” Avery said, just barely noticing the woman at the table next to them sputtering on her sip of iced tea and throwing a wild-eyed look her way.
      “Do not use sperm and cake in the same sentence.”Pia Stirling, her best friend and business partner, sat across the linen-draped table from her.
      “Sorry. Is that a rule?” No wonder the woman had given her a look. Avery hoped she didn’t get them kicked out of their favorite Greensboro hangout, The Tea Totaler. The sunlit tea room filled with delicate antiques was such a peaceful place to talk over business. Or problems.
      “It is now. I’m trying to eat here, Avery.” Pia paused, looked down at her dish of tapioca pudding, and then pushed it away with a sigh. “I guess I’m starting my diet today.”
      “I still can’t wrap my head around it. I mean, fever, nausea, headache, fatigue. It all added up to the flu . . .until it didn’t. I’ve never even heard of aplastic anemia.” Avery picked up her fork, pausing to release the tension in her grip before methodically cutting her cupcake into bite-size pieces. “If I hadn’t been sitting next to Tansy when the doctor told her, I’d swear this was a nightmare.”
      “Deep breaths, Av.”
      She ate a piece, putting her fork down to slow herself between bites. “The doctor said the best donors are usually blood relatives.”
      “So, not you. He also told you not all cases of aplastic anemia need the transplant. Let’s think positive. Lots of tests come back negative,” Pia said.“Even biopsies.”
      “I keep telling myself that, but I can’t spend another week sitting around doing nothing.” The muscles in Avery’s jaw were so tense she wouldn’t have been surprised if she needed a tetanus shot to relax them.She started forking up bites of cupcake faster than her taste buds could register them. “I need to find my foster family.”
      “It doesn’t make sense that Tansy wouldn’t have their current address.” Pia added two cubes of sugar to her cup of oolong tea before looking back up at Avery. “The way she tells it, Bob and Michelle doted on her.”
      “They did.” Avery looked down at the lone crumb left on the stark white dessert plate, trying not to think about her childhood. That was baggage she couldn’t afford to unpack right now. Unfortunately, they don’t let you check childhood baggage on arrival to adulthood. Nope, you’ve got to tote that overweight crap around with you for life. “She hasn’t heard from them either since she moved in with me two years ago.”
      “The PI you hired last year was a dead end, so I don’t know what options you have left.” Pia set her tea cup down with a clatter. “If I haven’t told you lately, your family really pisses me off.”
      She wasn’t too thrilled with them herself right now.It made it hard to cling to the dream of a loving family when they up and moved without telling you.
      Pia fidgeted with her napkin, then looked up, her face somber. “I hate this idea, but you could go to the press.”
      “I thought of that too.” Her gut twisted, but the thought of losing Tansy sent fear slicing so sharp and deep in her chest she had trouble getting a full breath.She reached out for her glass of iced tea, hating that her hand shook. “I’m willing to give up my peaceful life if it means helping Tansy.”
      Pia’s gaze focused like a laser beam on the drops of iced tea splashed onto the white table cloth before rising to examine Avery’s face. Their eyes met, and the deepening frown on her face meant they were both thinking about the past.
      “I need another cupcake.” Avery looked around for their waiter.
      “That is not a good sign.” Pia shot her one of her “mama hen” looks. “Find your inner Buddha.”
      “Trust me, my inner Buddha wants a cupcake too.”She knew it was the stress talking, a voice she hadn’t heard from in five years. Holy heck, had her breath just hitched?
      “Hey, we don’t have to go there yet. You said the biopsy results will take at least four days. And Tansy’s boyfriend took her off to the beach for the week, right?” She sipped her tea and looked at Avery over the rim of the delicate china cup. “We’ve got time to figure something else out.”
      “Right. We have time.” Avery nodded, able to take a calming breath for the first time all morning. “Let’s go get this audition out of the way.”
      “We can totally cancel the audition.”
      “No. Staying busy will keep me from worrying about Tansy.”
      Pia raised her eyebrows at her.
      “Okay, fine. I’ll still worry, but all the worrying has locked up my brain. I’m hoping a bit of distraction helps.”

Could This Be Love?
Available NOW!

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Not Second Best by Christa Maurice

[7 June 2016, Lyrical Shine, 102 pages. This is the four point fifth book in the Drawn To The Rhythm Book series.]  PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below.  Read the first chapter with Amazon Look Inside.

Synopsis

No more solos for this heart . . .

As a lawyer at Touchstone management, Tessa's position brings her up close and personal to some of the world's biggest heartthrobs. Sometimes that intimacy crosses professional lines, which is understandable considering Tessa's impressive contact list. But when rock star Brian Ellis set her aside for the girl of his dreams, Tessa can't help wonder if "spinster aunt" is her true vocation. Which explains her hook-up with rising star Brett Cherney at Brian's celebrity wedding . . .

As the lead singer of BroRide, Brett has lived the rock-n-roll bad-boy lifestyle to the very hilt. But when the girl of his dreams marries fellow rocker Brian Ellis, he buries his disappointment in the arms of an older woman. The following morning, Brett realizes what he experienced was only the beginning of a song he's been trying to write all his life. It's a seductive theme, which Tessa falls for again and again, but getting her to believe they have a hit is turning out to be far from a sure thing . . .

Sign up for Christa's newsletter at eepurl.com/4VZuD and and receive free short as well as news, contests and the chance to score ARCs.

Excerpt

from Chapter One
     Brett slammed her against the door as soon as it was closed. All the way here, she’d been teasing him. Running her hand up the inside of his thigh, dragging her fingers through his hair, toying with his earlobe. And every time he’d reached for her, she’d smacked his hand away and told him to watch the road.
     “Your ass is mine now,” he growled, pressing his face into the curve of her neck.
     “I was hoping you wanted more than that.”
     “Believe me. I plan to have every inch of you before I’m done.”
     Laughing, she ripped his shirt open and shoved it down his arms. “Let’s see if you can deliver on that promise.”
     “I can.” He hiked up her skirt. “Pantyhose? Really? These fucking things are like a force field around your sweet spot.”
     “I was going to the wedding of an old and dear friend, not headed out for a sleazy tryst.”
     “Damn.” Brett dropped to his knees and pulled at the pantyhose. Her heavy, lusty scent crawled through his brain and straight into his dick. “I didn’t think women wore these things anymore.”
     “I’m not the kind of woman you usually undress.”
     “No kidding.” He smoothed his hands down her soft thighs, down to— “Your fucking shoes have buckles on the ankles. Is there a lock on your pussy, too?”
     She laughed again. He glanced up in time to see her toss her blouse across the room. Underneath, she’d worn a lacy bra.Hopefully, it had a normal clasp and not some exotic thing like her goddamn shoes. He fumbled with the buckle, but his fingers couldn’t grasp it.
     “Let me help you.” She crouched, pinned between the door and him, trying to reach her shoes through the tangle of pantyhose. Her dark hair brushed his cheek, and he shivered. Tessa was hot. Way hotter than he’d ever thought.
     “Screw that.” Brett wrapped his arm around her waist and swung her onto the floor. “I can get to all the parts I need.”
     She buried her hands in his hair, drawing him into a deep kiss.Her tongue delved into his mouth as she ground her hips against his.
     The urgent need in her touch sizzled along his skin. “You’re a hell of a woman,” he said, dragging his lips down her chest to the thankfully simple front clasp on her bra.
     “Thanks, now quit wasting time.”
     “You on a schedule?” He flicked open the bra and curved his hand around the warm flesh of her breast.
     “No, I just have a lot of work for you. You need to get busy.”
     “I love a take-charge woman.” Reaching into his pocket, he located a condom.
   
     “Then you are going to love me.” She grabbed his pants and opened them. “You have a rubber? If no
     icked her lips. “And Suzi.”

Not Second Best
Available NOW!

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Spooning Daisy by Maggie McConnell

[7 June 2016, Lyrical Shine, 316 pages. This is the first book in the Otter Bite series.]  PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below.  Read the first three chapters with Amazon Look Inside.

Synopsis

It's a long way from Seattle to Otter Bite, Alaska. But if one woman can survive the trip--and the locals--she just might find what her heart has been searching for.

Her mango chutney is exquisite; her blueberry sauce is to die for. But right now, Chef de Cuisine Daisy Moon is a woman without a kitchen--and without a fiancé. Unceremoniously dumped from her place of business and her relationship, Daisy sells her belongings, plus a few of her ex's, and packs her bags. Maybe smashing all the china in her former restaurant was a bad move. Stripped of her Golden Spoon for "un-chef-like" conduct, she is now blacklisted all over Seattle. Her sole job offer is from the Wild Man Lodge…in Otter Bite, Alaska.
Too bad Daisy can't even get out of Dodge without incident. By the time she boards a ship for Alaska, she's got a trail of new troubles behind her, and suddenly Otter Bite is sounding pretty good. But the vessel turns into her own personal Titanic when a series of close encounters confirms her terrible taste in men--including one very good looking bad luck charm named Max Kendall. She vows to dedicate the rest of her days to chowders and brulée. Yet even Alaska isn't far enough away to shake the memories of the sexy shipmate who rocked her cabin--and her world. Thank goodness she's done with surprises--but they may not be done with her…

Excerpt

Chapter Two

“That poor woman,” Maeve Kendall said to her grown son.
     “Widowed at such a tender age.”
     “Uh-huh,” Max Kendall agreed, but his attention was on a page from a surprisingly blemish-free 1952 Superman comic book he’d lifted from a stack of twenty. The sign in front read: $2 EACH OR $30 FOR ALL
     After flipping through a few more pages, he laid the comic back on the pile, then scrutinized a set of Callaway golf clubs. Removing the driver from its bootie, he gripped Bertha and spread his feet as if he were about to swing.
     “She couldn’t be much more than thirty . . . five? Wouldn’t you say, Max? Thirty-five?”
     “I’d say she’s crazy, whatever her age,” proving that he was sort of listening. Raised with four effervescent sisters, Max tuned out most of the chatter that accompanied women. He had learned this skill from his father, who would occasionally smile and agree, then go back to his own thoughts while Maeve kept talking.
     “I’m sure you would be emotional, too, if you were selling off your belongings.” Maeve scanned the garage. “And she has some lovely items. She’s obviously a girl of culture and breeding. Not to mention being tidy and organized. With a nice figure and a sweet face. Don’t y’ think, Max?”
     “These clubs are custom-made graphite. With great balance.They don’t look like they’ve been used. Way too short for me, but they might fit Dad.”
     “The grrrips are blue,” Maeve pointed out, her brogue adding melody to her words.
     “A lighter shaft might improve his game,” Max joked.
     “I bet her people are Irish. Don’t you think she has a sweet face? A sweet Irish face?”
     “Who?”
     “The redhead.”
     He stopped the imaginary swing that had him teeing off at St.Andrews. “What about the redhead?”
     “Don’t you think she has a sweet face?”
     “How should I know? You can barely see it for all that hair.” He exchanged the driver for the putter; his fingers curled around the grip. Waggle-waggle. If Max Kendall sinks this putt, he’ll be the new grrrrand champion . . .
     “You should ask her to dinner.”
     Max lifted his eyes from his winning putt. “I’m getting these for Dad. He can rewrap the grips or sell them in the shop if he doesn’t want them.”
     “Maybe you should go home and shave. I’ll wait here.”
     “Okay.” He returned the putter to the butter-soft leather golf bag, then shot his eyes to Maeve. “What?”
     “I’ll wait here while you go shave.”
     Max rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Why do I need to shave?”
     “So you don’t look like a bum when you ask her to dinner.”
     “Ask who to dinner?”
     “The widow.”
     “What widow?”
     “The widow selling these golf clubs.”
     “You mean . . . the crazy redhead?”
     “Well, why not?”
     Max stared at his mother as if she were crazy. “We’re total strangers for one—”
     “That’s why y’ have dinner. To get to know one another.”
     “—And she’s crazy.”
     “All redheads have a fiery temperament.” Maeve smiled, remembering her own eruptions.
     “I prefer docile blondes.” He fidgeted with the clubs. “Where the hell is the price tag?”
     “Seriously, Max, it can’t be very excitin’ sitting around with Da and me each night.”
     “Visiting your parents isn’t supposed to be exciting. Besides, I’m only here until Monday. What would be the point?”
     “Not everything has to have a point. Sometimes the best things happen without having a point.”
     “Uh-huh. No.”
     “You’ll probably have a great time.”
     “No.”
     “I just want you to be happy and settled.”
     “I am happy and settled.”
     “A man without a wife is not happy and settled.”
     Max laughed and shook his head. “You have a short memory, Mom.”
     “That was a long time ago and it was the navy’s fault.”
     “Whatever.”
     Softening, Maeve cupped his face and went eye to eye. “Max, darling, y’ can’t be dragging around that cross for the rest of your life.”
     He gently pulled away. “I love you, Mom, but give it a rest.”
     Maeve shook a finger at his face. “Maxim Avery Kendall, you’re more stubborn than your father and you’re going to end up alone in a houseful of pigeons just like your Uncle Arvis.”
     He took a heavy breath, having heard it all before. Although,this was the first time he and the never-wed Arvis had shared the same pigeon fate.
     “Oh, never mind. She’d probably turn y’ down.”
     Max frowned. Rejection? From a woman whose flaming hair tugged at her head as if trying to escape? Not likely. And when you factored in her volatility—honestly now, how many offers did a woman like that get? [...]

Spooning Daisy
Available NOW!

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Working It by Leah Marie Brown

[7 June 2016, Lyrical Shine, 224 pages. This is the third book in the The It Girls series.]  PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below.  Read the first three chapters with Amazon Look Inside.

Synopsis

Falling in love is always in fashion….

With her trust fund and coveted job at Christian Dior, Fanny Moreau believes she has it all. But when her best friend finds a fulfilling new career abroad—and a dreamy relationship with a great guy, Fanny’s fabulous life suddenly feels empty. Inspired to find her true purpose, she trades her cushy lifestyle in San Francisco for an adventure in the Alaskan wilderness.

Everyone thinks Fanny has gone off the deep end. What’s a girl with a Ph.D in Prada doing teaching in an Inuit village? Even Fanny is wondering, especially when she comes face to face with Calder MacFarlane. The Scottish search and rescue pilot is everything Fanny is not—selfless, heroic, and used to living on the edge. He’s also the man who once loved her best friend. Yet something in Calder’s sexy gaze has her believing that she’s a woman capable of great things—a woman who might just find her own happily-ever-after, in a place where she least expects it…

Excerpt

Chapter 2

Moonlight as a Tranny Hooker

Text to Vivia Perpetua Grant:
Help! I am wrapped in an unfashionable cloak of ennui. Bored with my job, my nonexistent love life, myself…San Francisco isn’t the same since you left.

Text from Vivia Perpetua Grant:
Girl, you need to shake up your life like a snow globe.

“What is that ghastly stench?”
      Several of my subordinates perform discreet pit checks, sniffing their shoulders, but I keep my gaze fixed on my boss. I am the offender, and I know it. It’s only a matter of time before my boss knows it, too.
      My boss, Nicola Salupo, is the Executive Vice President for Aurèle L’Heure, Inc., North American Division. She’s chic, clever, driven, and a complete salope—that’s French for bitch. She thrives on humiliation—not her own, mind you, but on the utter mortification of her subordinates. Nicola feeds on humiliation the way vegans feast on tofu burgers.
      She begins walking around the Lucite conference table, slowly, like a vulture circling road kill. People shift in their seats, a timid intern dabs beads of perspiration from her upper lip, but I keep my chin lifted and my gaze fastened on the vulture in couture.
      “Someone reeks of”—she lifts her cosmetically sculpted nose high in the air and sniffs—“dimestore desperation.”
      She stops walking directly across from me and pierces me with her glacial blue gaze.
      “Mademoiselle Moreau?”
      “Oui?”
      “Either you’ve been moonlighting in the Tenderloin or you have grossly neglected your personal hygiene this morning.” She sniffs again and wrinkles her nose as if catching a whiff of a putrefied cadaver.“What is that stench?”
      “Kitty Kat’s Purrfect.”
      “Kitty Kat’s Purrfect?” She looks around the conference table with wide eyes. “Did I miss the memo? Has L’Heure Cosmetics created a line of fragrances for tranny-hookers?”
      Salope.
      I consider telling her my miserable tale—about how a snotty kid on the bus dropped his backpack on my foot and broke the transparent heel of my thirteen-hundred-dollar Dior calfskin pumps, how I had to superglue the heel while standing at the cosmetics counter in Walgreens, and how the salesgirl spritzed me with Purrfect—but Nicola is more of a bullet points person.
      “I had an unfortunate collision with an overeager salesgirl in Walgreens this morning.”
      “Walgreens?” Nicola gasps. “I always thought your makeup looked a little… I had no idea you purchased your cosmetics at Walgreens.”
      Salope. Salope. Salope.
      “I don’t purchase my cosmetics at Walgreens.”
      “Anyway,” Nicola continues as if I haven’t said a word, “it is a violation of corporate policy to wear competitor’s fragrances.”
      I snort. “I would hardly call Kitty Kat a competitor of Aurèle L’Heure.”
      The nervous intern chuckles.
      Nicola narrows her gaze.
      “You have violated corporate policy. I have no choice but to draft a formal letter of reprimand and attach it to your personnel file. In the meantime, you are relieved of your duties today.”
      “But, I am presenting my projection report to Monsieur Henri this afternoon.”
      “I’ll present your report.”
      Of course you will.
      Monsieur Henri Bousson is a veritable god in the L’Heure Universe. Impress Monsieur Henri, and your future in fashion is as solid gold as Louboutin’s lock on the luxury high heel market. Since he is based out of Paris and rarely makes it to California, this might be my only opportunity to impress him.
      “I worked hard on my presentation. I conducted independent market research, gathered supportive data for my forecasts….”
      I don’t bother saying that impressing Monsieur Henri is just one more step in my climb up the career ladder toward a position at my dream house, Christian Dior, and I would shank Nicola with L’Heure’s Divine Eyeliner before I would let her knock me off my wrung.
      Nicola stares at me coldly, unmoved by my appeal.
      “What about my sketches?”
      “Email them to me along with your presentation.”
      Putain!
      In the last few months, I have logged over two hundred unpaid overtime hours, working on sketches of shoes, purses, coats—original designs—in the hopes of impressing Monsieur Henri enough to offer me a position on his Parisian-based design team. Now, a stupid Walgreens employee and her tawdry perfume sample are threatening to knock me out of the running as I make my final lap toward the finish line. A promotion at L’Heure would pretty much guarantee me a position at Dior, and working at Christian Dior’s head offices in Paris has been my dream since I was old enough to play dress up in my grandmère’s closet.
      “Go home and clean up, Mademoiselle Moreau.”
      “This is ridiculous. It was one spritz.”
      “Be gone, Mademoiselle.” Nicola waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Be gone.”
      I consider snapping my translucent heel off my shoe and repeatedly jamming it into her eye socket until she stops looking at me with her patronizing expression, but I have sacrificed too much to risk an assault and battery charge. So I gather my notebook, stand, and walk out of the conference room with my head held high.

Working It
Available NOW!

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About the Authors

Lee Kilraine | Christa Maurice | Maggie McConnell | Leah Marie Brown |

A former Air Force spouse, Lee Kilraine moved seven times over eighteen years before finally settling with her husband in the pine woods of North Carolina. She has worked as a physical therapy aide, a cashier, a waitress, an English tutor, a ballet teacher and a stay-at-home mom. Holding tight to her mother’s motto, “There’s nothing you can’t do if you try hard enough,” Lee returned to college as an adult and graduated from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Writing thirty-one papers in two years (she counted) rekindled her love of writing, and she set her sights on her other dream—writing romance. When she isn’t swinging on her front porch swing or watching another of their four young adult children leave the nest (she swears she isn’t pushing them out!) you can find her typing away on her computer with her golden retriever, Harley, destroying something at her feet. Lee is a 2014 Golden Heart® Finalist.

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Christa Maurice has been obsessed with rock stars from early childhood when her older brother started randomly quizzing her on rock trivia. How many first graders know who the headliners were on the Black and Blue Tour? Christa did. (Black Sabbath and Blue Oyster Cult.) When not listening to music and/or writing, she enjoys traveling, reading and science fiction.

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Golden Heart nominee Maggie McConnell spent her childhood in Asia and South America as the daughter of US diplomats. Attending college in Illinois, she earned a BA in Art and an MBA while working at the local animal shelter. At 26, she packed her dog and cat into a Ford truck and drove the Alcan Highway to Alaska, where she spent 23 years exploring The Last Frontier in single-engine Cessnas. An animal-rights advocate and vegan, Maggie provides a sanctuary on her Arizona ranch for all creatures great and small. Her compass still points north.

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Leah Marie Brown has worked as a journalist and photographer. An avid traveler, she has had adventures and mishaps from Paris to Tokyo. She doesn't buy cheesy tee-shirts or useless bric-a-brac, but prefers friendships and memories as souvenirs from her travels. She lives a bike ride away from the white sand beaches of Florida’s Emerald Coast with her husband, children, and pampered poodles. She is hard at work on the next novel in The It Girls series, but loves to hear from readers.

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