Showing posts with label LB Dunbar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LB Dunbar. Show all posts

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Cover Reveal - LB Dunbar - The Sex Education of M.E. - Rebecca

A story for the over forty crowd…

The Sex Education of M.E. by L.B. Dunbar
Release the tension – August 22




PRE-ORDER --

I’m forty, flabby, and frustrated. Don’t get me wrong, I have a good home, a decent job, and great children. I had a loving marriage for twenty years where we had our ups and downs. It wasn’t perfect; but it wasn’t awful. Then he died.

After the grief took its course, and the reality of my life set in, I grew frustrated. It wasn’t the bills or the struggle to keep my interest in my work. It was life without a man – the only man I’d been with for twenty years. And before you go all feminist on me, it isn’t that I can’t be an independent woman, but there are certain areas where a man is necessary.

You need a fuck buddy, my friend said.
I didn’t even know what that meant.
Is it friends with benefits?, I asked.
Better, you don’t even have to be friends, she offered.

Boy, did I need an education in the modern workings of dating, and sex.



A coming-of-an-older-age novel.
Something new from L.B. Dunbar – a stand-alone rom-com!

Monday, January 25, 2016

RDB - Paradise Fought Abel - LB Dunbar - Rebecca




Title: Paradise Fought: Abel
Series: Paradise #1
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Contemporary New Adult Romance/MMA
 Release Date: January 25, 2016



Blurb

I'm not a fighter.
I was born into a fighting family. As the middle child, I was overlooked in favor of my older brother.
He took the negative attention, too. In comparison, there's nothing special about me.
I’m not as big as Cobra. I’m not as strong as Cobra. He's the alpha.
I'm a beta.
The second son.
The lesser one.
The one never encouraged to fight, never encouraged to do anything, but stay out of my father’s way.

I'm not a lover either - but I wished to be – that’s why I needed her.
I met a girl in the pouring rain.
Sounds cliché, but it's true. It changed everything.
Because of love, I learned to fight.

Betas come second, but in this fight, my story is first.




Links to Buy

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






Excerpt

If I thought I was going to make a speedy getaway, I was wrong. My savior caught up to me, half way down the walk, outside the finance building. He was quick and a large hand wrapped around my upper arm.

“Whoa, sister,” he said, slightly out of breath. “You almost got away from me again.”

“What?” I questioned. I had no idea what he meant: again.

“Never mind,” he muttered, his hand still on me. I looked down at it and he immediately released me. My eyes pinched as I realized I didn’t mind his hand on my skin. There was something nonthreatening about him. He seemed rather innocent, studious, actually. His shirt was buttoned almost to the top and tucked into his pants. The sleeves secure at the cuffs. His jeans were snug and hugged him well. He wore dark rimmed glasses that screamed smart. Brown boots looked too new on his large feet. It was like he had the right parts but the wrong combination.

His blue eyes were soft and easy to look into. They practically spoke to me, but I had no idea what he was saying. His dark hair was disheveled, a bit shaggy, but cool looking. He kind of looked like a pop star, which was a little too sugar sweet for me. His form was questionable. It was hard to tell what kind of body he had under those clothes. He looked rather preppy, like half the guys at this university. I didn’t want to think about it. I’d just sold my soul for another semester.

“So when do you want to do this?” I asked. His blank stare told me he had no idea what I meant.

“Us,” I said, pointing between him and me.

“I…” His voice trailed off as he gawked at me. His expression changed from confusion to shock.

“I didn’t buy you to sleep with you,” he said, a touch of disbelief in his voice. His face turned crimson, then fell. “Why, have you done that before?” It was my turn to be surprised and offended.

I turned on my heels and began stomping away from him. He was too quick and he caught me again. His hand on my arm halted me. This time he didn’t release me when I peered down at his fingers wrapped around my bicep.

“Look. I need help,” he blurted. His face pinked a little, and it was sweet. “I don’t need help with sex. I need help with before.” His tone dropped, and he looked side to side to see if anyone would hear him. I took his meaning.

“You don’t know how to do foreplay?” I questioned in a loud whisper, trying to hide my astonishment. How could anyone have sex and not know a touch of foreplay?

His face pinked again.

“Not that,” he said, sounding like a child. “The flirting. The dating. The…other stuff.”

I was stunned. I stared at him, taking in his features again. He was kind of cute, leaning toward the potential for good looking. He couldn’t possibly need help with this request. The confusion on my face made him speak.

“I don’t know how to flirt.” The words swirled between us.

“I don’t understand.” I didn’t. I didn’t know what he wanted from me.

“I need lessons how to be…cool: with girls. Call it a tutoring session. I need to learn how to be…seen.” His voice took on a touch of sadness. He couldn’t possibly be serious. I continued to stare at him. My mouth might have actually dropped open a bit, and I noticed he was watching my lips. It was a little exciting the way he stared at them. I licked them and his pupils dilated, filling in more black over the blue. His expression changed. Knowingly, he blinked when he realized I was teasing him. His lip quirked up and a dimple showed in his cheek.

“I need to date you,” he blurted. “To learn how to do, what you just did to me.”





Author Bio


L.B. Dunbar loves the original legend of King Arthur. Inspired by this classic tale, she pulled over to the side of the road to take notes when it hit her that if King Arthur lived today, he'd be a rock star. A lover of fairy tales, myths, legends, and anything with happily ever after, she loves to read and write contemporary romance. Her Legendary Rock Stars series is complete with the final tale: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance, but the story began with The Legend of Arturo King. She also wrote The Sensations Collection, which includes five stand alones based on the five senses in a small town setting near Lake Michigan. Raised on one side of that lake, she grew up in Michigan, but now lives on the other side, in Chicago. Mother to four, wife to the one and only, and teacher to hundreds of former students, she looks forward to sharing more stories in the future.



Author Links

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Review - Touch Screen - LB Dunbar - Rebecca

Title: Touch Screen
Series: Sensations Collection #4
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 3, 2015

5 mother freaking ugly cry and damn you, LB, stars! 

*Breathe* LB Dunbar has one heck of a way with words.  She has the ability to pull you in and pull out every dagnabbed emotion that is struggling to stay hidden inside of you.  Her words are weaved together so intricately and so beautifully that there's no denying that she has an uncanny ability and is worth her weight in gold.  Every word, every character, every situation, every description - they're all perfectly played out and so beautifully and flawlessly executed.

I love when a story can not only pull me in, but can make me really feel all the emotions.  I do try to tuck away my emotions - I try to stay strong day in and day out and I try not to let a book get the best of me (I hate when I ugly cry.  I hate it, hate it, hate it, but holy heck I love it -- how's THAT for confusion?  That's how I felt quite often throughout this book, because I didn't WANT to feel as emotionally invested as I did -- yet... I did.  And it was still beautiful and wonderful and *swoons*) but this one did in so many wonderful ways.  I loved that this was in Gavin's POV as I felt the detailing was perfect and I'm not sure I'd have felt the same way if it was written any other way.  I loved Britton as well, and felt that connection. I went through the gamut of emotions, at times questioning how I really felt about things as I was so torn.  There's so much to love about this story overall -- the development, the flashbacks, the characters... everything comes together so well and I just really do adore LB's writing.  I highly recommend you pick this one up!

The prodigal son. A second chance. The long kept secret. 

Home?

I had returned. I hadn’t been here for seven years. That last summer, I was angry. Once I got away, I didn’t want to come back. The irony was the career I sought to escape this small town was the very reason I was here. My first movie was a featured film of the Traverse City Film Festival. As an independent film director, my premiere brought me back home. Home. A place I didn’t recognize.

Or maybe home didn’t recognize me? 

I had it all in California: a girlfriend who was the daughter of a movie financier, a job that led to connections in the film industry, and a condo overlooking the ocean in Malibu. What I didn’t have was family. I had left them all behind. I was the prodigal son.

Now, the last person I expected to see was her. Britton McKay. She had been my summer love as a teenager. Not just once, but several summers. Until the last one. That was seven years ago. Now, she looked more beautiful than I remembered. Seeing her again, flooded me with memories long suppressed. She reminded me of everything I once had, and left behind. 

Now, she had returned too.

Can lost romance be rekindled? Can unanswered questions be revealed? 

Can I make this place my home again?

++++++

L.B. Dunbar reunites you with the Carter and Scott families as all are gathered for the annual film festival, a much anticipated wedding, and another summer weekend of Harbor Days.

I felt drawn to this woman and child, and I exited one of the French doors to walk along the pathway under another canopy. The beauty and her boy did not seem to notice me, and I tried to stay behind the columns that supported the overhang providing shade to this portion of the sidewalk as I peered nonchalantly at the beach. I glanced in their direction enough to notice wisps of her blonde hair around her tan face blowing out of her ponytail. She kept her eyes downward, focused on the boy, but I realized they had the same nose. Again, it seemed safe to assume this was her child.
She dipped the boy again and I heard his strong childish laughter. It was infectious and I smiled to myself. The woman kissed the boy again with several small pecks on his little red cheeks and neck, only now I could hear the sounds the mother made, loud and exaggerated, with each brush of her lips. The boy laughed harder, saying, “No, no, no,” but he squealed his enjoyment of each kiss and clearly wanted more. She stood him upright again and the child wrapped his arm around his mother, beginning to dance.
“Again,” the child pleaded, but the mother directed him elsewhere. They held hands as they stepped off the dance floor and into the white sand surrounding the pavilion. I hadn’t noticed they were both barefoot, and the woman bent down to pick up two pairs of shoes. She handed the child his and carried hers through her fingers. There was something strangely familiar about her as she walked across the sand away from me and toward the water line of the lake.
I stood straighter now, no longer leaning behind the barrier. I took no more notice of how much warmer I was outside in the blazing morning sun in my gray summer suit as I took a step into the sand, forgetting my leather dress shoes. The woman turned toward the child, walking backwards. Her tan legs were graceful beneath her white shorts. This blonde beauty shielded her eyes as if looking at something behind me, then she suddenly stopped walking. The child broke free of her hand and started running across the freshly combed beach toward the lake’s small white caps.
I made my way to the dance floor, the sand slipping under the hard soles of my dress shoes. I balanced on the edge of the cement structure with my heel and kept my gaze focused on her as she continued to stare back at the resort. Slowly, she lowered her hand from her eyes and tucked a piece of wayward hair behind her ears. I realized she was no longer looking behind me, but at me. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear made her instantly recognizable. Britton. Britton McKay had returned to northern Michigan, just as I had.

 
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.


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Friday, November 7, 2014

Promo/Review - Fragrance Free - LB Dunbar - Rebecca



4.5 stars
"Fragrance Free" was my first taste of LB Dunbar, and let's just say - WOW!! I am VERY impressed!!  I adore her extremely expressive style of writing and felt there was a wonderful combination of angst, turmoil, storyline, heart-tugging, etc.  Throughout I was anxious to see what happened next, as there's no limitation on the nail biting while reading this.  Instantly hooked!

I am now definitely going back and reading books 1& 2 in this series! I probably should have read them first, but my life has been a wee bit crazy to say the least -- plus now it'll give me an excuse to go back and read "Fragrance Free" again after I read the first two.  I'm very glad I stumbled across this author and love her work, so I highly recommend checking her out! :) 

Change your destiny. 

As the third child in the Carter family, I always felt a little on the outside of the Carter charm. I worked hard and played harder, but I was getting tired of the same old scene. I was more than Jess Carter’s little sister, I wanted to be me. Pam Carter. 

It was time for a change and I wanted to be set free. 

I knew it needed to happen. After years of one night stands and too brief sexual encounters, an accident brought Fate to me. To resist his charm was my penance for years of misbehavior. The temptation to give in to my desire haunted me for almost two years, until an uncontrollable situation started the twisted path to test my resolve further.

What would it take to claim my independence and be a new, improved woman? 

I worked for Jacob Vincent, horror novelist extraordinaire, as his personal assistant, but I was adamant that the relationship remain professional. Jacob had dark demons and I couldn’t bring him into the light…or could I? Life was springing forth for me; changes were coming. I knew it was time to be set free from who I had been and who I was to start fresh with who I wanted to be. I just didn’t know where to start to change my destiny.


“He made me want him.”
Jacob sucked in a breath. “You wa…,”
Holding up a hand, I cut him off.
“He led me to think the attraction was mutual. He played me.” My voice was soft, questioning, and the darkness of Jacob’s eyes was slowing fading.
            “Why’d you do that, bastard?” Jacob narrowed his eyes at the Irish man for a split second before returning his gaze to me.
            “The thing is, it wasn’t only once. He kissed me. Twice. No three times. Even since I’ve been here with his fiancĂ© right under his nose, he’s kissed me again.”
            “Better stop kissing around, Jacob,” Paddy laughed. I stepped toward Jacob again and he took another step back. I stopped.
            “He flirts with me, and I try so hard to ignore it, like I’m insensitive to it. Like it doesn’t affect me. But it does, Jacob. You need to stop it.” I looked directly into his wide eyes.
            “Or is it just that the homegrown apple is fun to play with? I must not have feelings because I’m from a small town?”
            “I never said that,” he spat at me.
            “Well, you didn’t defend it.” My arms flew out again in my anger. I stepped forward and Jacob stepped back, hitting his bare back on the ropes. He was pinned.
            “And to top it all off. As if finding out he was engaged wasn’t enough, the sting of that wasn’t painful enough, knowing I’d kissed him, he had to rub it in further. Stake to the heart by ear-piercing sex with her under my room. Touching her. Kissing her.” I was close enough to touch him, but I held back and Jacob leaned further against the rings.
            “You are a bastard, Jacob.” The Irish brogue was full of sympathy.
            “Hit me,” Jacob said calmly, his tone full of venom.
            “No.” I replied.
            “Hit me,” he said, closing his eyes as if he begged me to do it.
            “Never.” I softened my tone.
            “Hit me!” His angry voice was rising.
            “Never, Jacob.” I practically whispered and he took in a breath at the soft sound of his name on my lips.
            “I said, hit me, dammit.”
            “I’m not her, Jacob.”
            “Hit me,” he screamed in my face. I literally felt a breeze from his mouth and although I was shaking a little at this point, I responded calmly one last time.
            “It would never be like that with me, Jacob,” and I raised my hand. He flinched in anticipation and I rubbed my shaky fingers down the side of his sweaty face. I slid them down his cheek to cup his neck then traced the bruise with my thumb where Lucy had bit him, and his breathing began to accelerate. His solid chest, which had been rising with each response, was rapidly moving up and down now. I continued to move my hand over his hard chest muscles and I stopped over his heart, which I could feel beating rapidly through his skin. I traced a heart with my fingers around the tattoo.
Change your destiny.
My eyes leapt upward to his face, which was filled with fear. There was no other descriptor. I had not hit him, but he appeared more frightened than as if I had.
            I pulled my finger back and stepped out of his space. His breathing was still jagged and he was still pressed into the corner.
            “I’ll be up front when you’re ready.” I turned to the encouraging partner.
            “Thank you. That was exhilarating.” I smiled sweetly and exited the ring. As I walked to the entrance area, I heard the clap of hands behind me and Paddy spoke.
            “Damn. I like her. Why aren’t you marrying her?”
 
 
Add to Goodreads
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Amazon AU
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iBooks

Add to Goodreads
Amazon
Amazon CA
Amazon UK
Amazon AU
B&N
Kobo
iBooks

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.
 

 


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