Showing posts with label Alessandra Torre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alessandra Torre. Show all posts
Cover Reveal & Giveaway for The End of Innocence by Alessandra Torre
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Book Title: End of the Innocence
Author: Alessandra Torre
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: March 25, 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
He thought I owned him. He thought he loved me, that I was enough. But this animal, this sex god who could drive me crazy and steal my heart in the same breath, he would never be fully mine. It was impossible. No one ever owns a God.
When it all comes down to it, there’s only one thing to get a man like Brad for his birthday. A man that has everything, can buy anything, and wants for nothing. Either a) something he has been deprived of, or b) something he could never have too much of. I doubt Brad has been deprived of much of anything his entire life. Love. He hasn’t had enough love. It is something I see at odd times, times when he cradles my face in his hand and a flicker of worry goes through his eyes. He, at those moments, reveals how terrified he is of losing me. I don’t know how to package love, how to giftwrap that emotion and hand it to Brad. I tell him often, as often as I can. But I know that the more in love he falls, the more afraid he is that I will leave. That I will turn into his mother and choose another reality over this one. I have committed to him. That should be enough of a reassurance. Hmm… So b) something he could never have too much of. Sex. Brad has always been in control of our sexual adventures. It is part of the turn-on for me, the willing handover of my body, unknowing of what he has in store for it. But I wanted something more for his birthday, something other than me, naked and willing, waiting for his command. My mind flickered back to deprivement. He has been deprived of something, for eight months now. Another woman. We had ventured into the water, spending one hot night with a blonde, Brad bringing her hours of pleasure without actually fucking her. He had to miss it, had to miss the domination of another woman with his cock, seeing the look in her eyes when he thrust it in, the shock and incredulity as it turned from too much to too perfect. It was time. Since that night, I had waffled and wishy-washied my way back and forth over the line of indecision until my head spun like a drunk coed. But the thought always made me hot, always pushed me over the edge when Brad’s head was between my legs or he was buried deep in me. The pleasure he gave me, the incredible heights and depths he brought me to, were too incredible for me not to share – it seemed unfair for me to keep this wealth of sexual knowledge contained solely for my pleasure. When I was with Brad and the Russian - I had loved every minute of the experience, as limited as it was. But to see him inside a woman, to see his thrusts and her moans, his hands gripping her skin, his mouth on hers – the thought was almost too intense to process. During sex, I would get snapshot images, entering uninvited, into my mind, and my back would involuntarily arch, my orgasm no longer containable, and my world would turn black in a moment of exquisite perfection. How would I react in that actual situation? When he spread her legs, touched her body? When I saw that look on his face, the look of lust and ownership, the same look that sent me over the edge, the look I strove for, fucked for, and did anything and everything to provoke? How would I take it, and what if he needed more of it? Would I really be giving him a birthday present? Or was this just one, big, sex-filled test of our relationship?
Alessandra Torre is a new author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks. The sequel to Blindfolded, Masked Innocence, will be released in February 2014.
Alessandra lives in the Southern United States and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.
Learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com, or you can find her on Twitter (@ReadAlessandra) or her Facebook fanpage. 
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Promo Release Day Blitz, Excerpt, Giveaway, My Review for Sex Love Repeat By Alessandra Torre
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Alessandra Torre,
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Title: Sex, Love, Repeat
Pub Date: December 1st, 2013
Price: $2.99 (initial price, will increase to $3.99 after initial promo)
Length: 55,000 words – 212 pages
Blurb:
I love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I let them know. They don’t need to know a name; they don’t need to know anything, but that they are not alone in my heart.
They have accepted the situation. Stewart, because his life is too busy for the sort of obligations that are required in a relationship. Paul, because he loves me too much to tell me no. And because my sexual appetite is such that one man has trouble keeping up.
So we exist, two parallel relationships, each running their own course, with no need for intersection or conflict. It works for us, for them, and for me. I don’t expect it to be a long-term situation. I know there is an expiration date on the easy perfection of our lives.
I should have paid more attention, should have looked around and noticed the woman who watched it all. She sat in the background and waited, tried to figure me out. Saw my two relationships, the love between us, and the moment that it all fell apart.
She hates me.
I don’t even know she exists.
She loves them. I love them.
And they love me.
Everything else hangs in the balance.
Buy Links
Amazon B&N: Smashwords Kobo
I step from the bedroom a half hour later, jeans and a tank top on, my wet hair twisted into a bun. I swing by the kitchen on my way out, waving a goodbye to Estelle and snagging a red apple and bottled water from the fridge.
I hop on Santa Monica Boulevard, moving through lanes of traffic with ease, my car knowing the route as well as my soul, my thoughts wandering as I drive. My Audi was a gift from Stewart, my twenty-ninth birthday present, probably picked out by his assistant. Regardless of who chose the vehicle, I love it. White exterior, blood red leather inside, it is sleek, sexy, and just begs every degenerate in my neighborhood to steal it. I am shocked it has survived for the last five months.
It’s fourteen miles between Stewart’s home and mine, but it might as well be different countries. Stewart lives in the fast-paced world of downtown Hollywood, rarely leaving the blocks of the city unless jetting off for work. He doesn’t own a plane, he doesn’t spend his money on much other than his home, his clothes, and me. He doesn’t have time to spend money, and doesn’t believe in purchasing things just because he can. He works a hundred hours a week, sleeps six hours a night, and fucks the hell out of me the rest of the time. His needs are minimum: food, sleep, and sex. I take care of one of those. Estelle and his bed take care of the rest.
I get off on Lincoln Boulevard, the road traffic lessening, frustrated drivers continuing their zip along the freeway, anxious to continue their painful life . I wish, for a brief moment, that I had put down the car’s top, needing the wind in my hair and the sound of the surf. Leaving Stewart’s, I sometimes need the wash of fresh air. A strong breeze to release the intensity he carries with him.
I pull off the road, turning down our street and press the garage release button, entering the dark space that is my spot and killing the ignition. I step out in dim light, the overhead burnt out, Paul promising for the last five months to get around to it.
The steps are worn concrete, this townhome complex built before developers knew what they had, before they realized that this close to the beach they shouldn’t build shit housing. Back before property values hit ridiculous figures, and a six-figure income still puts you in the projects, dodging street beggars and used needles. We don’t make six-figures. Paul brings in anywhere from fifty to sixty thousand surfing. And I bring in far less than that, running a bookstore that operates out of a bar on Venice beach. For California standards, it’s practically poverty, but we don’t need much. For Paul and I, we never did. We’re lucky to have this place, my stepfather blessing us with a rent payment low enough to both piss our neighbors off and ensure that we still can cover food and utilities.
We met at the Santa Monica pier, when we were side by side in the singles line for the rollercoaster. We had all of six minutes in line, the shuffle moving quickly, singles getting split up among the empty seats in a bored and orderly fashion.
He flashed a smile at me, and that was really all it took. Broad shoulders, tan skin that peeled a bit on his nose, blue eyes that looked like a fucking turquoise magic marker. He was in board shorts, a tee-shirt, and flip flops with muscular, track-free arms and no hint of tattoos. It was like God plucked an Abercrombie & Fitch model from the sky and injected him with testosterone and sexuality. I smiled back.
We spent those six minutes talking, our words spilling out between laughs and chemistry. I instantly liked him, had one of those at-peace realizations that ‘this is a good guy’. The type so good that women run over him, the type so good that he is often best-friended. But this guy? With his gorgeous looks and the I-will-fuck-you-in-this-line-right-now vibe? No woman was stupid enough to best-friend this man. I wanted him, right there in that line, my panties sticking to me in the best way possible beneath my short cotton skirt.
We reached the front, our moment of separation, but were seated together, two of us in one bench, a ridiculous, never-should-happen moment, and I took the minute before liftoff to reach over, tugging the back of his head, his wide smile and soft lips telling me that I wasn’t crazy, that he wanted this every bit as much as I did. And I knew, in that kiss, in that brief moment of hotness in which our mouths instantly knew every part of the other’s soul, that I would fuck him. The minute, the second, the ride finished. I needed him inside me, needed his hands to grip my waist, his shirt to move off that beautiful chest and my bare breasts to replace it. I needed every inch of him against and inside of me. Then the bar jerked down, and we separated with a laugh.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Just prepare for screams.” I grinned.
I was, and still am, a dramatic rider. I believe that there’s no point in doing something if you aren’t going to do it with all of your heart. I raised my arms, I screamed bloody murder, and he loved every minute of it. We swept through the loading bay after one cycle, the operator amping the riders up before pushing the button and letting us ride again.
The vibration of the seat underneath me, the closeness of pure sex beside me, the anticipation of what was to come… I attacked him the moment the ride ended, grabbing his hand and tugging him out, the pounding between my legs reaching a fever pitch. I ran, pulling him along with me, our bodies weaving around families, couples, giant stuffed snakes and dollar games of chance.
We broke from the crowd and moved faster, our flip flops slapping against the wood boardwalk, the tinny laugh of children vaguely registering in my head. I broke right when I saw the opening and jogged down sandy steps, glancing behind me to make sure he was there. He was, his eyes bright and curious, his steps right behind mine, keeping easy pace with my frantic steps. “What are we-where are we going?” he called out. I ditched my sandals when I hit the sea of white and ran through hot sand, gripping his hand and pulling him along, under the boardwalk, past a few homeless tents and down towards the water, where the posts are thicker, the cover more enclosed, privacy at a barely-there standard. I waded into calf-high water, pulling and then pushing him against a square post, my hands frantic on his shirt, my mouth fighting the movement of clothes for another chance at that gorgeous mouth.
His hands pushed my thin tee up, over the curves of my bikini top, his firm fingers sliding the triangles of my bikini over, my breasts spilling free, his hands cupping them and squeezing, his breath catching in my mouth. He pulled away, looking down, staring at my breasts in his hands, his head leaning down, his hands lifting me into the heat of his mouth. His mouth was incredible, soft yet firm, pliable against my delicate skin, his fingers’ brush against my nipples soft and sweet. I could feel him, hard against my thigh, and I reached back, digging into my pocket for what I always keep there – just in case. Just in case I meet a man who I can’t resist.
He started at the touch of my fingers, dipping under the nylon of his shorts, his mouth coming off of my breasts and looking at me, surprised. “Here?” This close, I could see tints of green in his blue eyes, the color of ocean water, glittering brilliantly against the brown sand of his skin.
“Yes, here. I need you.” I met his eyes confidently as I said the words, my hands already sealing the deal, pulling him out *oh my god HARD* and sliding protection over him with one smooth motion. His eyes darkened, intensity stealing over them, and he turned us, trading places, pushing my back against the hard wet span of wood, his hands lowering, gripping the back of my legs and sliding up, pushing my skirt higher, his hands gripping the meat of my ass and lifting.
Then I was in the air, his pelvis underneath me, supporting me against the post, and his fingers were skimming the line of my bikini bottoms, traveling up the curve of my hip until he reached the tie, yanking quickly, his hand moving back down once the material of my suit is gone. His mouth left mine, a gasp in his tone as his fingers pushed inside, one digit and then two. “Jesus. Are you sure?”
A stupid question as I hung before him, my breasts exposed, legs wrapped around his waist, my need dripping a path for his cock. “Give it to me,” I breathed. “Hard.”
He didn’t ask again, didn’t do anything but prop me hard against the post, used his fingers to position himself at my entrance, and then he fucked. Quick fast strokes, his breath hard against my neck, his hands digging into the flesh of my ass, pulling and gripping the skin as he made his mark on my body. His fucks were wild, out of control, and I moaned against his neck, loving the fervor of his movements.
When I came, I cried out, his mouth quickly moving to mine, muffling the sound, as my body shook around his, my legs squeezing as intensity shook my body. It was too much, too great, the heat of my orgasm and clench of my sex, and I felt him as he came, the twitch and raw emotion that flowed through him, his breath gasping as he grunted, slowing his fucks and giving me a few last, final, pushes.
“Oh my god,” he whispered against my neck, his cock softening inside of me. “Oh my god. I think I’m in love with you.”
He wasn’t. He was just surprised, that a girl with perfect teeth, and a bred-in-the-Valley smile, would fuck a stranger under the pier in Santa Monica. And I really thought, as I dropped to my knees in the water and peeled off the condom, taking him into my mouth and sucking his cock dry, that I would never see him again. That it would be that one, fuckable moment, and nothing else. But here we are, two years later and incredibly in love.
That’s right. In LOVE. Yes, I am still the hoochie who just got my brains fucked out on the weight bench. The one who has dated Stewart Brand, one of the most eligible bachelors in downtown Hollywood for the last two years. I know what you’re thinking. That dropped jaw and disgusted look on your face? I’ve seen it before. But wait. Please. Don’t judge me quite yet.
My men are so different, yet similar in so many ways.
Their eyes, a similar tint of blue, yet Paul’s smiles at me with carefree abandonment and Stewart’s pierces my heart with its dark intensity.
Their bodies. Paul’s naturally muscular, his arms developed from hours of surfboard paddling, his abs ripped from balancing on a board, his thighs and calves strong from jumping, balancing, and kicking through currents. Stewart’s body, attacked like everything else in his life, with fierce devotion, aggression worked out with miles on a treadmill, weight-lifting, sit-ups, pull-ups, and calisthenics.
Their love. Paul loves me with unconditional warmth, his affection public and obvious, his arms pulling me into his warmth, his mouth littering my body with frequent kisses. Stewart loves me with a tiger’s intensity, his need taking my breath away, his confidence in our relationship strong enough to not be bothered by the presence of another man. He stares into my soul as if he owns it, and shows his love with money, sex, and rare moments of time.
Tonight is one of those rare moments. I have his attention, his cell phone is away, and he is staring at me as if I contain everything needed to make his world whole. I step forward, towards his seated form, the dress hugging my form to perfection. He sits up in the chair, spreading his knees and patting his thigh, indicating where he wants me. I sit sideways on his thigh, my eyes held by his, his hand stealing up and running lightly along my bare back. “You are breathtaking.” His voice gruff, he leans forward and places a light kiss on my neck. “And you smell incredible.”
“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.” And he does. In a suit that no doubt costs more than my dress, he looks every bit the successful executive that he is. Short, orderly hair. Clean-shaved chin. Those intense eyes staring out of a strong face. “Is the car here?”
“It’s downstairs. But it can wait.” He runs a hand up my knee, sliding the material of the cocktail dress up.
I wait, my breath becoming shallow, my concentration focused on the path of his fingers, as they travel higher, taking their time, the tickle of rough skin against soft flesh. He leans over, brushing a quick kiss over my lips and then moves lower, soft kisses making the path down the line of my jaw, whisper soft against my neck, and deepening in touch when they reach my collarbone. His hand caresses my thigh, the brush of his thumb moving higher up my thigh until it is just breaths from my sex. I groan, sliding my hips forward, but his hand stops me, gripping my thigh and holding me still. “Not yet. Let me enjoy you for a moment.”
There is the sound of approaching footsteps, and I open my eyes to see a suited man, our driver, round the corner and stop short when we come into view. His eyes drop respectfully and he speaks softly. “Mr. Brand, I’ll be downstairs with the car when you are ready.”
Stewart mutters something unintelligible, the man taking the cue and leaving, the firm pull of the door behind him leaving us alone. Stewart’s hands push apart my legs, moving the fabric of my dress aside and leaving me bare and open to his eyes. He looks down, examining the exposed skin, his mouth curving into a smile. “No panties?” His eyes flick up to mine.
“They’re in my purse. I figured they would be useless until we got to the event.”
“That,” he says softly, his fingers teasing the edge of my lips, circling the edge of my sex in slow, tantalizing brushes, each touch closer but not yet there, “is why I love you. You know me so well.”
His eyes stare at me, dark pools of lust and want. While Paul and I talk, incessantly, often, about anything and everything, important or not, Stewart and I fuck our way through this relationship, our time often too short for anything more than physical contact. Sex is how we connect, share our feelings, emotions, and love. I stare back into his eyes, my eyelids closing slightly when he slides one confident finger over the knot of my clit, that finger effortlessly sliding down and into me, the small invasion a tease of perfection. “Look at me,” he breathes. “I want to see your eyes.”
I reopen my eyes, my mouth parting as he cups my sex, slipping a second finger in with the first, both of them working together, stimulating me in their movement, his thumb staying firm on my clit, soft pressure that moves slightly with each stroke of his fingers. He watches my eyes, sees the moment that the fire of my need hits them, sees the crescendo and burn of my arousal, adjusting the pace and pressure of his fingers in accordance with my want. I feel the curl of pleasure, growing in my belly, our eyes caught in a web of want, pulled to each other, my eyes barely noticing the sexy pull of his mouth into a smile as my breathing increases and I thrust into his hand. His other hand steals around my waist, sliding up my chest and pulling on the fabric there, tugging my neckline down till a breast is exposed, his hand gripping and tugging on it just hard enough to make me gasp.
Alessandra has done it again. I devoured this book in one sitting. This book has Passion, it is intense, and it is beautifully written. I LOVE Alessandra’s writing style. I knew going into this book I would not be disappointed by one minute of it.
I love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I let them know. They don’t need to know a name; they don’t need to know anything, but that they are not alone in my heart.
So I was a little hesitant to read this book ONLY because I am not a fan of love triangles, but Alessandra has written this book in a totally different kind of way. To me this is not a love triangle. Let me tell you why I feel this way.
Madison is in love with two men. Each of them owns a half of her heart. Each knows about the other, but they do not know anything about each other. Madison keeps them both separate from each other. She lives two different kinds of lives with each man.
Madison is a woman who has a very high sex drive. She is not worried about what other’s think about her or her relationship status with two men. When she meets Stewarts she knows she is in for some hot steamy sex and she knows that he is a one of a kind kind of guy, the only problem is Stewart is a workaholic and has little time to spend with Madison other than quick get together’s for sex.
Stewart knows he is not enough for Madison. He knows that she needs more then occasional get together’s. She deserves more. So Stewart suggests that she find someone to spend her time with when he cannot be there for her.
"Stewart loves me with a tiger’s intensity, his need taking my breath away, his confidence in our relationship strong enough to not be bothered by the presence of another man. He stares into my soul as if he owns it, and shows his love with money, sex, and rare moments of time.”
“Fuck no. I will never allow someone to take you from me. But I will lose you soon enough to someone who can shower you with time and affection. You need an everyday man to satisfy those needs. But I own your heart.”
“You can’t control my heart, Stewart.”
“I can sure as hell try.”
When Madison meets Paul they are instantly attracted to each other. He is a surfer, he lives a simple carefree life in Venice Beach. Surfing is his passion. He loves Maddison and would do anything for her. He does not like the fact that he has to share her, but he understands to keep Maddison he needs to understand that another man owns half of her heart.
"We lay entwined in each other’s arms, the open window providing a strong breeze of salt and sand, washing over our damp skin. He pulls me closer, pressing a soft kiss on my neck. “I love you, Madd.”
“I love you, too.” And I do. I love this man, who has not one stressed out bone in his body. He concerns himself with two things: surfing and keeping me happy. I love his outlook on life, a Bob Marley style philosophy. We fuck, we surf, and we love. There isn’t too much else to our life. To this half of my life."
“The heart is stubborn. It holds onto love despite what sense and emotion tells it. And it is often, in the battle of those three, the most brilliant of all.”
Things have worked great for the trio for the past 2 years. When does the happiness end and who in the end has Maddison’s heart completely.
Let me tell you there are a couple of big WOW’s and OMG’s in this story. Things that I never saw coming or I thought were something totally different. There are definitely some plot twists that I did not see coming.
Overall I LOVED the story. Alessandra did an outstanding job with Bringing the story of these three characters to life and put it all together in one fantastic story.
Author Bio:
Alessandra Torre is a author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks.
Alessandra lives on the beach in Florida and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.
Learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com.
Author Links:
Email: alessandratorre4@gmail.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/readalessandra
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AlessandraTorre0
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6452845.Alessandra_Torre
Release Day Celebration & Giveaway for The Dumont Series By Alessandra Torre
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Alessandra Torre,
Giveaway,
Release Day Celebration
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Quick Tagline:
The Dumont
Diaries covers a strippers transition into life as a trophy wife, and her
discovery that her new husband is not as he seems.
The Dumont
Diaries SERIES Blurb:
Candace Tapers’ life finally takes an upward swing when Nathan
Dumont, shipping heir and notorious playboy, sweeps her away to a lifestyle of
wealth and privilege. But that life comes with strings, and she is soon pulled
in directions she never expected, discovering secrets and ulterior motives in
the man who shares her bed.
The Dumont Diaries is a four-part miniseries, each book roughly
60 pages long. The books will be released a week apart from each other,
starting on August 10th.
Release
Dates and Pricing:
Book 1: To Have - August 10th, price: $.99
Book 2: To Hold - August 17th, price: $2.99
Book 3: Till Death - August 24th, price: $.99
Book 4: Do Us Part - August 31st, price $2.99
Book 2: To Hold - August 17th, price: $2.99
Book 3: Till Death - August 24th, price: $.99
Book 4: Do Us Part - August 31st, price $2.99
BOOK 1
I step on the dark
stage, the cheap plastic of my platforms cutting into the top of my toes, every
step bringing a pinch of pain. I keep my eyes down, following the flecks of
silver on the unforgiving stage, waiting, exhaling a breath in controlled anticipation,
my abs tightening. Then, the lights come on and I have almost three minutes to
forget.
Welcome to my life, a drained bank account and six nights a
week spinning around a greasy strip club pole. When salvation comes in the form
of six feet of drop-dead-gorgeous, complete with a limo and a thick wad of
cash, my stilettos run happily out the door to freedom. They say that money
doesn’t buy happiness. But it does buy escape. Happiness is an overrated
fairytale.
To Have (Dumont Diaries Book 1) EXCERPT:
He leans
forward and kisses me, and I suddenly don’t need the image of dollar bills to
distract my mind. Everything floods the moment his lips touch mine.
Soft, sweet lips. Not what I expect from this commanding man. He brushes my lips softly, my lips parting for him, immediately wanting more. A groan slips from my mouth before I have a chance to capture it. His hands move up through my hair, gripping and pulling its strands. He tastes me, spreading my lips gently with his and dipping his tongue inside. I respond eagerly, my body taking over my mind, shoving it aside forcefully as a wave of arousal hits me. His touch turns harder, his mouth more demanding and he moves me backward, my heels skittering over tile, 'til the edge of the table is against me.
His hands grip my ass, squeezing it roughly, one hand on each cheek and lifts me easily, setting me on the table, the surface cool against my skin.
“Lay down,” he bites out against my mouth, taking one, last, torturous sweep with his tongue before he pulls off, stepping back and watching me.
I grip the glass top, sliding backward until my elbows are resting on the glass. I watch him, watch as he unbuttons his sleeves. He breathes hard, his eyes glued to mine and walks towards me, stopping a foot from the table.
Soft, sweet lips. Not what I expect from this commanding man. He brushes my lips softly, my lips parting for him, immediately wanting more. A groan slips from my mouth before I have a chance to capture it. His hands move up through my hair, gripping and pulling its strands. He tastes me, spreading my lips gently with his and dipping his tongue inside. I respond eagerly, my body taking over my mind, shoving it aside forcefully as a wave of arousal hits me. His touch turns harder, his mouth more demanding and he moves me backward, my heels skittering over tile, 'til the edge of the table is against me.
His hands grip my ass, squeezing it roughly, one hand on each cheek and lifts me easily, setting me on the table, the surface cool against my skin.
“Lay down,” he bites out against my mouth, taking one, last, torturous sweep with his tongue before he pulls off, stepping back and watching me.
I grip the glass top, sliding backward until my elbows are resting on the glass. I watch him, watch as he unbuttons his sleeves. He breathes hard, his eyes glued to mine and walks towards me, stopping a foot from the table.
AUTHOR BIO:
Alessandra Torre is a new author who focuses on contemporary
erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and
was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks.
Alessandra lives in Florida and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.
Learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com, or you can find her on Twitter (@ReadAlessandra) or her Facebook fanpage.
Other covers:
Blog Tour and Giveaway For The Girl in 6E By Alessandra Torre
Labels:
Alessandra Torre,
Blog tour
·
BLURB:
I screw men for money. Not literally, think phone sex
operator with a 15 megapixel web cam thrown in. They tell me their deepest,
darkest fantasies while paying me $6.99 a minute.
What would possess me to engage in such a business?
Throw in a tortoured past, 24/7 murderous thoughts, and a desire to keep the
innocent people of my small town safe.
I was contained, out of the way, sexcamming my way to
utter obscurity until HE came along. A twisted client armed with a targets
name. Annie. And in that name, everything changed.
Warning: This book contains explicit sexual references, and should not
be read by anyone under the age of 18.
_____________________________________________________________________
BOOK EXCERPT:
Undressing
is an everyday occurrence. Most women do
it mindlessly, automatic motions that accomplish an end result. But, if done correctly, stripping can be the
ultimate foreplay, a sexual seduction that can wipe clear any rational thoughts
and leave a man totally and utterly at your mercy. I have mastered the art.
I kneel on
the bed and trail my fingers over my skin.
Light, teasing caresses designed to heighten my senses and stimulate my
body. I exhale slow, trembling breaths
as my hands travel near sensitive areas, the dip in my neckline, the lace over
my breasts. I keep my eyes down,
subservient to him, and wait for the command.
One always comes.
“Take off
your top. Slowly.” The voice was foreign, English words dipped
in culture and dialect. I comply,
lifting my eyes and biting my bottom lip gently, my tongue quickly darting out,
and hear his gasp in response. I run my
hands down my neck, grazing the top of my collarbone and dipping under the silk
of my negligee. I slide down one strap, then two, the silk bunching over my
breasts, the fabric clinging to my nipples.
Then I rise to my knees, crossing my arms, sliding the fabric higher,
letting it reveal inch by slow inch of skin until it unveils the curve of
breasts, dip of throat, and the pout of pink lips.
“Good.” He
groaned. “Very good. I like you, Jessica.”
Jessica. Not
my real name. He thought he knew
me. They all thought they knew me. After all, they’ve seen my Facebook page,
seen the Photoshopped photos that construct my manufactured life. They believe what they see, because they want
to believe. Like I want to believe.
I turn to
the wall and stand, dragging my expensive thong down over my toned hips,
bending over and exposing my most private area to his hungry eyes. The embroidered lace slides the rest of the
way down my legs and drops around my ankles, snagging on the Italian stilettos
that encase perfectly pedicured feet. I
am naked now, and slide down to lay on my side in front of him, propped up on
one elbow, his eyes hungrily feasting on my body. The lights, bright and hot, illuminate my
bare skin, causing it to glow. He speaks,
the arousal present in his voice, in the slight thickening of his accent.
“Touch
yourself. Just your fingers. I want to see you come.”
He wants my
fingers, a seductive performance of gasps, moans, and slick foreplay. Eventually, fingers won’t be enough. The next visit he’ll want more, something
bigger, deeper - my moans to be louder, my orgasm stronger. There will be no secrets anymore, no
boundaries, no requests he won’t be comfortable giving. At this moment, I am his, to do with as he
pleased. And right now, he wants
fingers.
PURCHASE LINKS:
Alessandra is also running a Giveaway on her own Author Website as well : I will award four $250 VISA gift cards – one a week for the first month. Details are here:http://www.alessandratorre.
Barnes and Noble link: http://www.
Alessandra is also running a Giveaway on her own Author Website as well : I will award four $250 VISA gift cards – one a week for the first month. Details are here:http://www.alessandratorre.
BIO:
Alessandra Torre is an exciting new author who astonished the
publishing world with the success of her first novel, Blindfolded Innocence.
Initially self-published, the intriguing romance and erotica title quickly rose
to the top of the charts on Kindle and Amazon and attracted the interest of
major publishing houses. Currently available on Kindle, iBookstore and Nook,
Blindfolded Innocence will be available in print in 30 different countries
through Harlequin Publishing in June 2013.
Torre’s captivating story about a young intern’s sexual
awakening has won praise and rave reviews from numerous critics, bloggers and
book reviewers, including the acclaimed Dr. Laura Berman. In her recent article
“35 to Read After 50″ in Everyday Health, Dr. Berman recommended
Blindfolded as a must-read for book enthusiasts searching for a new fix after
Fifty Shades of Grey. The book has also received high marks from readers on
Goodreads and other literary web sites where fans frequently remark they can’t
wait for a Blindfolded sequel!
Momentarily stunned by the book’s rapid success and loyal
following, Torre is now releasing ‘The Girl in 6E’, and erotic thriller, as
well as working on a sequel to Blindfolded. From her home near the tranquil
warm waters of the Emerald Coast in Florida, she devotes several hours each day
to various writing projects and interacting with her fans on Facebook, Twitter
and Pinterest. Happily married to her “best friend” and with one son, she loves
watching SEC football games, horseback riding, reading and watching movies.
CONTACT ALESSANDRA
Email her at alessandratorre4@gmail.com
* Like her on facebook
* Follow her on twitter
* Fan her at www.goodreads.com/AlessandraTorre
* Follow her on pinterest
Ok…
I am excited to bring you this GIVEAWAY straight from the amazing Alessandra Torres !!
To celebrate the release of The Girl in 6E ,
Alessandra is going to GIVEAWAY 3 e-book copies
of The Girl in 6E to three lucky winners!!
of The Girl in 6E to three lucky winners!!
But wait!! there’s more…
Two more winners will be selected to win a $20 Gift card from either Amazon or B&N at the same time!!
*** Random winner's will be selected when this giveaway ends.
To enter for your chance to WIN, scroll down to the below.
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