Wednesday, 29 April 2015

L. B. Dunbar Author Spotlight

****Author Spotlight****

Today we will be spotlighting the awesome L.B. Dunbar! If you haven’t read any of her work yet you are missing out! Have no fear we are going to be showcasing all of her books today, oh and keep an eye out for a giveaway later on!

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L.B. Dunbar Social Media links:
Instagram: lbdunbarwrites

                                About L.B. Dunbar

I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?

As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.

I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.

So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.

I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.

Sound Advice by L.B. Dunbar

“Nana’s Rules to Live By”

Gentlemen should always open the door for a lady.

I was busy and I didn’t have time for a vacation, let alone a weekend away. When a frantic phone call from an old neighbor brought me to my grandmother’s summer home, I wasn’t prepared for an extended stay. And I especially wasn’t prepared for the man holding the door open to the radio repair shop who made a lasting first impression.

In attempts at a relationship, a gentleman should always make the first move.

Calling Jess Carter’s clenched jaw and denim-colored eyes part of his standoffish manner was an understatement. His brooding exterior bordered on being downright rude. From the moment I bumped into him, quite literally, our lives began to intertwine in a way that made me question what I wanted.

Children should be seen and not heard.

Jess had secrets and I was determined to get to the bottom of them. Even he didn’t know the solutions to all his problems, I wanted to help. In doing so, I might have drawn too close to the truth, forcing Jess to risk something he wasn’t sure he could chance again. I had decisions to make for myself and it’s hard to know whose advice to take when so many questions remain unanswered.

The first novel in the Sensations Collection visits small town romance filled with big hearts. Sweet, sexy, summertime.

Taste Test (Book 2 in The Sensation Collection) by L.B. Dunbar

Taste Test by L.B. Dunbar

In a modern twist of fairy tales, what if the beast is a woman instead of a man?

Ethan Scott
I was about to find out when a mysterious job led to the secluded home of a horror novelist. I’d lost everything: my scholarship, my education, and my way. In denial of my family inheritance, I took the unusual employment as a chance out of a hole, but I found myself buried in the unknown trauma of another situation much deeper.

Ella Vincentia
I had changed my name and my address to keep myself hidden, but my scars were more than physical. Living as a recluse in the woods, I was used to being alone, so I wasn’t happy when a certain someone was always in my space. Our first encounter was less than pleasant and tension continued at every attempt to tame me.

I knew she was keeping secrets and I wanted to help, but she was cutting me down and cutting me off every time she opened her mouth. Our frustration with one another grew until a misunderstanding changed everything. How can I be the next guy after something so tragic? It was a challenge I wasn’t sure I was willing to take.

Return to Elk Rapids for this stand alone romance adventure of Ethan Scott and Ella Vincentia. Due to mature themes, appropriate for 17+.

Fragrance Free (Book 3 in The Sensations Collection) by L.B. Dunbar

Touch Screen(Book 4 in The Sensations Collection) by L.B. Dunbar

*****Giveaway!!!****  TO ENTER GO TO OUR FB PAGE!!!

To win an e-copy of L.B. Dunbar’s latest release The Story Of Lansing Lotte, all you have to do is:
  1. Like Our Page
  2. Like L.B. Dunbar’s Author Page
  3. Tag a friend and share!
Comment when done, and remember we will be checking you have followed all the steps!

Good Luck! Winners chosen randomly after the spotlight is over today!

Facebook is not responsible for this giveaway we are!


The Legend of Arturo King by L.B. Dunbar

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****New Release!!!****
The Story of Lansing Lotte by L.B. Dunbar

This only went live yesterday, and we are dying to start reading it! Check out the teaser!!

Barnes And Noble:

The Story of Lansing Lotte: excerpt (chapter 1)
© 2015 L.B. Dunbar

I could feel my head throbbing. Both of them.  
    The night before was a fuzzy mash of images in my brain, as I recalled the concert. My band, The Nights, were rocking The Round Table something fierce and the crowd was thumping.  I remembered the muted bright lights and the energy of the music I produced on my guitar next to the lead singer and my best friend, Arturo King, while the girls screamed in response to Arturo’s voice. Regardless of Arturo’s recent engagement, the ladies still loved the Chivalrous Lover. They equally called out for me and my guitar playing as well though, and I loved the attention. There was no better high than the cry of a crowd cheering you on.     
On the opposite side of the stage, focused on his bass guitar was Tristan Lyons. He had model-like features and his nickname was the Heartbreaker. He went through girls like they were food to be savored and devoured, and his followers were nicknamed flavors. He enjoyed the variety of woman who came his way and he never dappled in the same flavor twice.
    Behind us had been Perkins Vale, who the band called Perk, and his enthusiasm for playing the drummers equaled his name. He was big and often played with his shirt off, exposing the detailed tattoo of a shield on his chest and across his left shoulder. His dark short hair shoved to his head, gave the impression of someone serious and intense, but he was the contrary.  That’s why things went askew.
    I remembered Arturo and Perk having some kind of conversation between their eyes, but I was more focused on the fact that Mel Agent had somehow gotten into The Round Table.  Last night was a private function as a fundraiser for women of domestic violence hosted by none other than Arturo’s mother, Ingrid Tintagel, and her foundation WomenFirst.  Mel Agent was the lead singer of a rival band, who had become his own entity and now one of the Night’s sworn enemies.  I despised the man for his behavior toward woman and at that moment he seemed to be interested in a young thing with jet black hair.  
    She didn’t look like the typical girl to be in the club. She didn’t look like the typical girl to follow a band. Her oversized army jacket covered her small body and her delicate hands clenched the coat closed over her chest. Mel Agent looked deep in conversation with the girl who was holding her own, but that’s when Arturo’s dark eyes started addressing Perk.
    Only the practiced ear of the band knew that Perk slipped as he played. He was off a beat for just a second, but recovered quickly. I was trying to question Arturo with my own unspoken glance, but Arturo was too focused on Perk. When the set ended, Arturo and Perk immediately hit the side stage. Both men moved quickly through the crowd, parting ways as I realized that Guinevere DeGrance was in the path of Mel Agent as well. I felt that familiar ping in my heart, and I looked away before I could see the guilt in Guinevere’s eyes.  
    I was quick to follow them and pull Guinevere from Mel’s immediate vicinity.  It seemed I was continually saving her from that man. Tristan had grabbed Arturo and was forcing him back as well. We didn’t need an altercation in the middle of the crowd, and Perk seemed to have the situation under control. A situation that clearly involved trying to free another woman from under the evil intentions of Mel Agent.
I waited in the wings with Tristan and Arturo as Arturo barked out orders to give him my bike and for Tristan to take Guinie home. I knew Arturo sensed something between Guinie and I, and he refused to ask me for help when it came to her. Arturo paused for only a moment to continue what looked like an argument with his girlfriend, no his fiancée, before Perk and he disappeared completely, leaving Tristan and I to entertain the endless questions of where had the other two gone. Tristan and I could hold our own, though, and we did, with continuous shots and free flowing drinks.
    I was sure that’s how I ended up here – in bed.  I tried to open my eyes which seemed too heavy. The pressure on my temples was a rhythm stronger than Perk’s drumming, but the feeling of warmth and moisture on my lower head made me moan. The suction increased and I felt my leaden hands travel into the hair of my capturer.  
    I could remember snapshots of the night and the countless women leaning up against me.  The laughter of female voices and the whispers of desire in my ear were muted by the loud sound of the other bands playing in the background. The numerous lips burned my skin subtly on my cheek and neck from stolen kisses by aggressive fan-girls.
    I had only wanted one girl to be a fan. And she was refusing.
I was awakening slowly and the dream I was having moments before I regained consciousness was still visible in my mind. Fresh lips were on mine. Hands entwined in soft hair.  Sounds moaned of pleasure. I had a vague sense that some of the dream had been a reality, but I couldn’t bring my mind to focus clearly on whether any of it had been true.  
    I should have been ashamed. She was. She was embarrassed by how she responded to me.  I had responded to her years before, and I had never forgotten. Despite her denying now that the first kiss had been intense, I knew she was lying. She kissed me back after all that happened, and I wanted her. I couldn’t help it.
    As my hands gripped female hair gently and finger nails tickled my hips, my eyes began to peel open. I took in the dim sunlight beginning to break the darkness in the room.  The ceiling was grayed in shadow, and I rotated my head on a soft pillow to get a whiff of stale roses and observe the light pink of sheets.  
    My eyes opened fully as I realized I didn’t recognize the room painted in a pale rose color and accented with frilly curtains over the shade covered window. My eyes traveled down my naked body to the head of my temptress. Her hair fell forward, veiling her as she worked me with her mouth. My hands coiled in her hair; I couldn’t quite distinguish the color.
    My concentration returned to what this temptress was doing between my legs and I let my eyes roll back as I dreamt of the woman who kissed my mouth with lush lips now using those lips to suck me off. I was ready to burst and I tightened my clasp of her hair, warning her softly with the words I’m ready.
    As the liquid strength in me ejected down her throat, I growled like a prayer, “Fuck, Guinie,” as I looked down at the head over my manhood to meet green eyes, not blue.
    “Elaine?” I questioned.

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