Absolute Favorite Books

Absolute Favorite Books

Own the Wind
Reckless
Motorcycle Man
Wild Man
Lady Luck
Rock Chick Revenge
Leave Me Breathless
Undeniable
Nobody's Perfect
Thoughtless
Effortless
Fifty Shades of Grey
Fifty Shades Darker
Fifty Shades Freed
Tied with Me
My Unexpected Forever
Rule
The Reluctant Dom
Trouble
Wild and Free


KC -- Reading Is My Superpower's favorite books »
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Sunday, December 7, 2014

Book Tour --- Midnight Heat by Sarah Graham with all kinds of Bonus Materials and Giveaway!!!

Midnight Heat   


Title:  Midnight Heat (Black Phoenix #2) 
Author:  Sarah Grimm 
Genre:  Contemporary Romance 
Publication Date:  December 2, 2014

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16104796-midnight-heat






16104796 
She was the only woman ever to rock his world. But this time he'll have to prove he's offering more than just Midnight Heat. The unconscious man wheeled into Dr. Rebecca Dahlman’s ER is sexy—devilishly sexy—and injured.  This isn’t just any patient in need of medical help. He is the only man she’s ever loved—the one who still haunts her dreams. Black Phoenix bassist Dominic Price made a mistake three years ago when he walked out on Rebecca.  A mistake he plans to rectify.  But first he has to convince her to open her heart to him again. One touch of his calloused hands reignites their passion.  Can they rekindle their trust as easily, or will her fears cause her to lose him again…this time to a man bent on revenge?




 


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Dear Reader,



My name is Dominic Price, bassist for the rock band Black Phoenix. Perhaps you’ve heard of us. About ten years ago we topped the Billboard charts—a multi-platinum band whose last album was the most successful of its century. Until the day our drummer overdosed, and my best mate and lead singer, Noah Clark, fell apart, taking down the band with him. Music is the driving force of my life so when it was snatched away from me so quickly, I drifted a bit—years actually. Then one night I discovered a fledgling group named Blind Man’s Alibi in a pub in London. Recognizing their talent, I introduced them to my record label and the rest, as they say, is rock and roll history.



It wasn’t the same though, so three years ago, after winding down a tour with BMA, I found myself in California, USA. Noah was just beginning to talk about bringing Black Phoenix back together and we were searching for a drummer. That’s where I met her. Becca—Dr. Rebecca Dahlman. With flame red hair and eyes the color of emeralds, pale porcelain skin dotted with freckles and lush feminine curves: she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon. I was happy with her. Happier than I’d ever been before. Until I walked away. Panicked at the realization a woman could affect me both physically and emotionally, I ran. All the way back to London. But I never forgot her. Not for a moment.



Now I’m back. Back in California. Back in her capable hands. Only this time I’m a patient in her emergency room—a man injured in an automobile accident. And though her touch still has the ability to make me ache, it is with regret. For the brush of her fingers through my hair is no longer a lover’s caress, but a doctor’s assessment of my injuries. I ruined everything leaving her the way I did. Hurt her too badly to ever hope for the chance to make up for past mistakes. But I have to try.



If charm and charisma won’t do the trick, I’ll find another way. I have to. Because seeing Rebecca again…it was like someone let the air back into the room. And imagining a future without her—is more difficult than imagining one without music.


Dominic Price








Rebecca scooped something off the tray, pushed his hair back with her left hand, and bent over him again. So close her hot breath brushed across his skin when she spoke. “I’m going to use tissue adhesive on this laceration. I’ve been told it stings like hell. You might also feel a small amount of heat as it dries.”

She was right.

“Almost done here.” She bent over him and a piece of her hair slid free from the intricate knot at the back of her neck, laying like fire across her cheek. He wanted to skim his fingertips over it. One touch. One touch he wanted so damn badly his hands began to shake.

Dominic dragged in air to loosen the knots in his stomach and only succeeded in filling his lungs with her scent. A scent he’d never quite managed to forget. “Jesus, you smell good.”

“Obviously, your olfactory system was damaged in that accident as I smell like I’ve been at this for sixteen hours already.”

Then she looked down and the air between them thickened. A deep breath became impossible.

Three years. Three agonizingly long goddamn years. Because of him. Because she’d cared and that scared the hell out of him.

“I love you, Dominic.”

Okay, she’d more than cared. God, he’d fucked up. If he hadn’t been absolutely sure of that before, he was now. Laying here, her touching him as if he were nothing but another patient instead of the man she’d once confessed to love. Looking at him as if seeing him again was no big deal, as if it wasn’t the giant kick in the ribs that seeing her again was for him.

She was coolly professional. Calm and unflustered. While he was…“I’m sorry, Becca.”

She straightened away from him as if his words burned. Pushed to her feet so quickly the stool she’d been sitting on skidded backward and bounced off the wall.

The metallic clang echoed in Dominic’s skull. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Nausea washed over him.

Rebecca opened her mouth to respond, then closed it and took a step in retreat. She removed her gloves, disposed of them and shut off the overhead lamp. Then she refocused on him and sighed. “Dominic, we…” She was quiet a moment, just looking at him and he held his breath. “I can’t give you anything for the pain until after the scan.”

It was his turn to sigh. “It doesn’t matter.” There was nothing she could give him that would help.

Except for forgiveness. Never gonna happen, mate.

“Someone will come by soon and take you down for your CT scan.”

Bloody wonderful. Dominic let out a breath. He forced himself to watch her leave. Walk away from him, the way he had done to her. He didn’t need an expensive college degree to know he wasn’t going to see her again. Not tonight. Not any time in the near future.

“Lights on or off?” she asked softly.

“Off.”

She curled her hand around the door pull before plunging the room into darkness. Which was perfect, really, because he found he wasn’t strong enough to watch her walk away after all.




 

 

 

 Amazon















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Sarah Grimm is a wife and mother of two—five if you count her much-loved dogs. She resides in beautiful West Michigan, near the white sandy beaches of Lake Michigan.

The youngest of four, Sarah can’t remember a time when she wasn’t writing. In fact, her siblings believe she began writing in utero to pass the time. As a child, Sarah wrote constantly, littering the house with bulging spiral notebooks and ignoring the ribbing of her mother and sister who routinely said romances? in a somewhat scornful tone. Little did they know, Sarah would go on to win a 2011 Readers Favorite Award for her romantic suspense, Not Without Risk, and her interracial contemporary romance, After Midnight would both final in the 2012 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, as well as win the 2012 Romance Through the Ages Award.

Vivacious and imaginative, Sarah spends much of her day managing the family marine repair business while listening in on the lives of her characters. In the evening, she writes it all down, weaving the story as she goes. She says this method works well for her, except on the days when her hero and heroine insist on a steamy love scene while she’s answering the telephone or doing the taxes!

When asked what he thinks of her choice of genres, Sarah’s husband grins wickedly and answers, “It makes for interesting evenings.” Hmmm.


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Music drove them to the edge of reason. Only LOVE can bring them back.





Music. It’s always been an important part of my life. Probably more important than most who know me even realize. Take away my books, and I could go on. After all, I’d still have the characters in my head to keep me company. Take away my music…I cringe just thinking about it. I can’t imagine life without music.



There was never a time that music and writing weren’t a very large part of my life. Growing up, our house was constantly filled with music. From Broadway Musicals to Rock n’ Roll, Country to Classical, there was always music playing. On the rare occasion the stereo was silent, my sister was usually singing or one of us was practicing an instrument. That’s just how life was in my house, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.



As an adult, I still surround myself with music. Even now as I type, Shinedown is blaring through the house speakers. The only problem? I keep singing along when I should be typing, which is exactly why the only time there isn’t music blaring through my house is when I’m writing. When I write, I need complete silence. That’s not to say that music doesn’t inspire my writing, because it does. In a big, big way.



I began building stories around song lyrics as far back as the fourth grade. A particular lyric or phrase would speak to me, and the next thing I knew I had built an entire scene around that phrase. The song would get stuck in my head and the next day I would have a few chapters scribbled in my notebook based on the theme. In the fourth grade, I wondered if I was the only one who did this. As an adult, I know I’m not.



It was through my love of music that the Black Phoenix series came to be. As teenagers I think a lot of us dream about being the one to bring a rock star to his knees. However as an adult, I realize that twenty-something rock and rollers probably aren’t happily-ever-after material. Which is why my band is older. They’ve made the mistakes young men in the industry make. They’ve done the groupies and the booze, and have matured enough to realize that’s not for them anymore. They’re ready for their HEA. Too bad their heroines don’t always see it that way.










Dominic’s level of pain could be gauged by the way he held himself, and his careful indrawn breaths. The doctor in her wanted to reach out and comfort. The woman in her wanted to reach out for a completely different reason. She’d never had such an irresistible urge to touch anyone the way she wanted to touch him. It had been there right from the beginning, their first meeting, and was still just as strong now.

She fisted her hands to keep from acting on the impulse.

“Can I come in?”

Definitely not. Even injured and surly, he still emanated so damn much testosterone he made her teeth sweat. Her heart did a little flutter whether she wanted it to or not. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Have dinner with me.” There was the arrogance that had been missing a few moments before. His tone wasn’t commanding, but left no doubt in her mind that for him there was only one answer.

Too bad she couldn’t give it. “I already ate.”

“Tomorrow?”

“No.”

His brow furrowed. “Why the bleedin’ hell not? Are you involved with someone?”

“I’m not seeing anyone, no.”

At her admission, he stepped closer, invading her space. Heat emanated off him, and although he did not touch her, she felt surrounded by him. “Take a drive with me?”

The low, soft timbre of his voice thrilled her, washed over her skin like a caress, and she fought a tremor. The heat of his body warmed her through her clothes. Wanting to step closer, to press against him and inhale his all too familiar scent, Rebecca stepped away. Physically distancing herself from him. She only wished emotional distance was as easily achieved. “Drive where?”

“Does it matter?”

Not really, since there was no way on earth she was getting in a car with him tonight. Not when just the sight of him had her hormones standing at attention, one whiff of him, her body thrumming. Not after spending the entire day thinking about him.

Remembering.

Aching.

Did he still hurt over the loss of what could have been? Did he still dream of her, of them? Had he ever?

Dominic blew out a breath and shook his head, his frustration clear. “It’s just a damn drive, Becca.”

It was so much more. Acceptance would be the first crack in the barrier she’d built around her heart after he’d walked out. With only the smallest encouragement, he would stop by on a regular basis, invite her to spend time with him. Which would, even if she kept her wits about her and turned him down, lead to more heartache. Just seeing him again made her yearn. Spending time with him was not an option.

She didn’t know why he was back in California. The why didn’t matter. What mattered was that he would be gone again soon. Dominic Price wasn’t the type to hang around. And she wasn’t stupid enough to believe she could change him.





Why Do I Write Romance?

I’ve been asked this question more times than I can count, and usually when I’m totally unprepared to answer. So today, I thought I’d get my thoughts together once and for all.

I didn’t always want to be a writer. Wait, can you hear that? That noise is my family unanimously hollering, “Yeah, right!” Sorry, family, but it’s true. Had you asked Sarah Grimm, the young girl, what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would have given a different answer every time. My dream changed like the blowing of the wind through the trees, or with whatever story I was reading. Then, I picked up my first romance novel and oh…my…God! I’d always loved to read, and suddenly I had discovered a whole new world. A world I could get lost in, where no matter how impossible the odds, a happily-ever-after always waited. Let me tell you, for a die-hard romantic, this was nirvana!

What? No shock and awe that I’m a die-hard romantic? Learning that bit probably doesn’t surprise you, does it? I believe in love, not just as a fundamental part of human relationships, but as a force that can heal emotional scars. I truly believe someone exists for each of us—a person we are destined to find. Our other half. A soul mate. Perhaps the surprising part is that I’ve always believed this—even as a young girl.

I love reading romance. But, I love writing romance even more—bringing two people together, even if it is only in my imagination. I love the stuttered heartbeats when the hero and heroine first meet—that first glance. Heck, I love the second and third glances! I love the gut punch of sexual awareness, the sweetness of that first kiss, and the momentary panic over the realization they’ve fallen in love. I love the idea how even at the worst of times, at those moments when you least expect it, two people can find love. I love the idea of good conquering evil, of the hero and heroine winning against all odds, and the bad guy ‘getting what he deserves’ in the end.

Why would I want to write anything else?



Dominic’s level of pain could be gauged by the way he held himself, and his careful indrawn breaths. The doctor in her wanted to reach out and comfort. The woman in her wanted to reach out for a completely different reason. She’d never had such an irresistible urge to touch anyone the way she wanted to touch him. It had been there right from the beginning, their first meeting, and was still just as strong now.
She fisted her hands to keep from acting on the impulse.
“Can I come in?”
Definitely not. Even injured and surly, he still emanated so damn much testosterone he made her teeth sweat. Her heart did a little flutter whether she wanted it to or not. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Have dinner with me.” There was the arrogance that had been missing a few moments before. His tone wasn’t commanding, but left no doubt in her mind that for him there was only one answer.
Too bad she couldn’t give it. “I already ate.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
His brow furrowed. “Why the bleedin’ hell not? Are you involved with someone?”
“I’m not seeing anyone, no.”
At her admission, he stepped closer, invading her space. Heat emanated off him, and although he did not touch her, she felt surrounded by him. “Take a drive with me?”
The low, soft timbre of his voice thrilled her, washed over her skin like a caress, and she fought a tremor. The heat of his body warmed her through her clothes. Wanting to step closer, to press against him and inhale his all too familiar scent, Rebecca stepped away. Physically distancing herself from him. She only wished emotional distance was as easily achieved. “Drive where?”
“Does it matter?”
Not really, since there was no way on earth she was getting in a car with him tonight. Not when just the sight of him had her hormones standing at attention, one whiff of him, her body thrumming. Not after spending the entire day thinking about him.
Remembering.
Aching.
Did he still hurt over the loss of what could have been? Did he still dream of her, of them? Had he ever?
Dominic blew out a breath and shook his head, his frustration clear. “It’s just a damn drive, Becca.”
It was so much more. Acceptance would be the first crack in the barrier she’d built around her heart after he’d walked out. With only the smallest encouragement, he would stop by on a regular basis, invite her to spend time with him. Which would, even if she kept her wits about her and turned him down, lead to more heartache. Just seeing him again made her yearn. Spending time with him was not an option.
She didn’t know why he was back in California. The why didn’t matter. What mattered was that he would be gone again soon. Dominic Price wasn’t the type to hang around. And she wasn’t stupid enough to believe she could change him.


 More from the Author -----
 

I have a confession to make. I am a car junkie.
 

It’s true. I can talk horsepower, 0 to 60 times and torque with the best of them.
 

Well, perhaps not the best of them, but I can actively participate in a conversations about cars that make most women’s, and a lot of men actually, eyes glaze over. I credit my uber-talented, mechanic husband with this. However, my love of driving too fast and want of something sexy & classic to do it in is why I’ve paid attention to his ‘car speak’ for all the years we’ve been together.

I know the difference between a carburetor and fuel injection, a turbo charger and super charger, and I know the effect of cold weather start-ups on fuel mileage. I can do my own oil change, a tune up and change my own fuel filter. And yes, I’m the one that gets irked when I read something totally wrong in a book – like the NYT bestseller who had her heroine remove the valve stem caps from the FBI agent’s car and the tires went flat. No, that’s not how it works.

Yup, I’m a bit of a geek.

My love of cars can be seen in my writing. I can’t help myself, I usually slip a great car in the book. Take Not Without Risk, for instance – in RISK, the hero drives a 1969 Pontiac GTO, and the heroine a 1959 Cadillac El Dorado.



I skipped giving either character in After Midnight (Black Phoenix #1) something fancy. Well, I knew Noah had a wonderful car, I just don’t point out what it is until Midnight Heat (Black Phoenix #2):



  
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Aston Martin Vanquish Volante



Beautiful, isn’t she? (yes, I mean the car, LOL)


I typically choose American Muscle as the cars to feature in my books, since that is where my passion lies. But, Noah Clark is a British Rock Legend, so this gorgeous piece of British art was the only choice for him. And for Dominic Price—hero of Midnight Heat, who has a serious passion for this car.




A knock sounded directly opposite her head. Rebecca startled. “Go away, Nathan,” she said without opening the door.

“Who’s Nathan?”

Dom. The surge of excitement coursing through her cemented the fact that she was in trouble. Big trouble. She opened the door with a smile on her face. “It must be my night for visitors.”

“It’s a beautiful one. I wanted some air. Thought I would see what you were up to.”

“You have a habit of doing that.” Not that she minded all that much.

He shrugged, a move that pulled his black tee even tighter across his shoulders and afforded her a glimpse of abs she knew were flat and ridged. The dark sunglasses were nowhere to be seen. “You’re not going to tell me to sod off, as you obviously did with this Nathan bloke, are you?”

She glanced at her driveway, where the motion light on her garage illuminated a sleek black convertible, top down. “Rolling down the windows just isn’t the same, huh?”

“Not really, no.”

“So, it didn’t have anything to do with feeling emasculated driving a minivan?” He cursed beneath his breath. Her smile grew. “What is that thing? Is that Noah’s infamous convertible?” The one Dom had mentioned after his accident.

“First, it’s not a thing, it’s an Aston Martin. And yes, it’s Noah’s.” By his tone, Rebecca guessed she was supposed to be impressed by the brand. His eyebrows slashed downward. “Tell me you know what an Aston Martin is.”

“Horribly overpriced?”

“Worth every pound. She’s performance and elegance in one damn fine automobile. Look at her lines. She’s got style and grace combined with raw horse power.”

He was pretty passionate about the car wasn’t he? “Do you two need a moment alone?”

“Ha-ha.”

She laughed, which had the unfortunate side effect of a brief coughing spell. Dominic’s gaze turned cold as steel.

He stepped across the threshold. Close enough she could feel the soft caress of his breath on her cheek. He lifted a hand and gently brushed his knuckles along her neck. “What happened?”

“An incident at work. It’s…” her explanation trailed off as he cradled her face in his hand. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, her chin, then finally her bruise as he lowered his hand to her neck. His touch was feather light. Still, she couldn’t stop the tremble that worked down her legs or the tears that burned her eyes.

“Becca?”

It was the genuine concern in his voice that pushed her over the edge. Unable to say anything, she shook her head and stepped into his body. He wrapped his arm around her back. The other shifted to cradle her head. Rebecca pressed her face against his chest as tears wet her cheeks.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly.

  



 Yay!! Yay!! Yay!!! ---


Secondary Characters Who Demand Their Own Stories



When I was writing After Midnight—Black Phoenix book 1—I honestly had no intention of creating a series. I had one story in my head, one where in the midst of wrapping up the hero and heroine’s happily-ever-after with a bright red bow, I would also give secondary character Dominic Price his. Then he walked onto the page and instantly stole my heart. I knew immediately he would need his own book. He was blunt, didn’t believe in lying and often said whatever he was thinking. He was funny—I’m a sucker for a man who makes me laugh—but also…wounded. There was a sadness to him. A deep sadness tied to a woman he loved desperately, but had walked away from: Rebecca Dahlman. I had to explore this—had to—and so Midnight Heat was born.



Writing Dominic’s story wasn’t easy. At times I was an interviewer asking questions of him, then rewording them when he wouldn’t give me an answer. At times a psychologist, studying his mind and behavior, digging for the reasoning behind his actions. Dom was afraid to trust me with his backstory, just as he was afraid to trust Rebecca, but eventually, I got it out of him. Then, I had to figure a way to help him win Rebecca back. In the end, he didn’t need my help after all.




Rebecca pulled into her driveway to find Dominic leaning against the post of the front porch. It’d been a lousy week and the last thing she needed, the last possible thing she could deal with right now, was him. Yet here he was. Looking as sinfully gorgeous as ever.

His long black hair was messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it. Her own twitched with the need to bury her hands in his hair and pull him to her. Pull him in tight, setting aside everything that stood between them. Trusting this time would be different.

For a long moment the temptation was so great she couldn’t breathe. She walked past him, used her key to unlock the door but didn’t open it. Exhaustion pulled at her, made her limbs heavy and her eyes burn. The double shift she’d just come off had been difficult, made more so by the arrival of Mr. Masters – the little boy’s father. He hadn’t said anything, just stood against a light pole outside the emergency entrance. In a fashion eerily similar to the way Dominic stood now.

It had taken her the entire drive home to shake off the trickle of alarm from between her shoulder blades.

Unable to summon the most basic of manners, she sighed. “Not tonight, Dom.” Tonight she felt far too exposed and vulnerable. “Honestly, I don’t have the strength for another go around with you.”

He looked her over slowly, studying her without a word. She knew what she looked like, had seen her reflection in the mirror after getting cleaned up at the hospital. Dark circles of fatigue beneath bloodshot eyes, her naturally pale skin more drawn than normal. She couldn’t hold her tongue when she was tired. No doubt he’d use that to his advantage.

“Are you okay?”

The fact that he asked, after everything they’d said to each other, nearly brought tears to her eyes. No. “Yes.”

He was quiet a moment, then blew out a breath. “I was hoping to have that talk you wanted, but I can see tonight’s not the night.”

She allowed herself to relax a bit. “It’s really not.”

“Just so you know, I’ll go home tonight, but I’m not going away.”

“What does that mean?”

Dominic gazed deep into her eyes. “I want a second chance, Rebecca.” His tone was a dark promise that curled around her and had her pulse kicking hard. “A chance to show you how much I’ve changed. To be what you want me to be; a lover and a friend.”

Heart in her throat she could only whisper. “For how long?”

“As long as you’ll have me.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed back the ache, the longing. Yes, cried her heart. Oh please, yes. Her head refused to believe. “Dom,” she murmured.

He didn’t speak. Nor did he walk away. Instead, he stepped closer. So close his breath brushed her temple, his body heat warmed her. She opened her eyes, tipped her head up to see into his. He stood close enough to touch her, only he didn’t. “Your best friend’s name is Karmen.”

Confusion scattered her thoughts. “How?”

“You’re wrong. I met her once – the same night I met you. She’s Latina, pretty but…I barely remember her.” His eyes darkened to mirror the night sky. “I was too blinded by you.”

“Dominic.” She lifted a hand and settled it in the center of his chest, feeling the hard muscle as well as the heat—traced her fingers over one pec and his body tightened.

Still, he didn’t touch her.

“You listen to classical music all the time. So much it used to drive me bonkers. But only if you’re happy. When you’re sad, you listen to the blues.”

Or his. She’d grown quite fond of Black Phoenix’s music over the years.

“I don’t recall what make or model your car was, just that it was a bit dodgy and smelled like cheese.” His chuckle vibrated up her arm.

God, how was she supposed to resist this? He was giving her everything she’d demanded of him the other night. All the answers she’d accused him of not caring enough to have. Rebecca leaned in, pressing closer, absorbing his scent, his proximity, and still his arms remained at his sides. He wasn’t going to make it easy on her. Anything that might happen, everything was being left up to her.

“I had a kink in my ass for a week after that first night.” His gaze fell to hers as she laughed. “I would do anything to make you laugh.” His voice was low, raw, as he reverently touched her cheek. “I would do anything to make sure I never make you cry again. I don’t want to be what makes you cry, Rebecca. Not anymore.”

Her body wouldn’t stop shaking. “Dominic.”

“I miss you so much. I miss us. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t regret walking away from you.”

It was too much to take in at once. Rebecca couldn’t move, and her vocal cords seemed to be temporarily useless. She ended up just standing there, as her heart took a hard leap against her ribs and hope blossomed.



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