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Alpha Revealed!

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ALPHA FINAL

 

Mark your calendar and click that pre-order button today.

April 29th is the big day! Make sure to head on over to the USA Today HEA blog and read the full excerpt and watch an exclusive video with me about Alpha. You won’t want to miss what everyone is talking about.

Post: http://usat.ly/1gf0dUN
Excerpt: http://vilmasbookblog.com/alphaexcerpt/

Pre-order Amazon US: http://amzn.to/O9bEGw
Amazon UK: http://vilma.co/1oiThzU
iBooks:https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/alpha/id852450125?mt=11
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/alpha-23

Blurb:

The first time it happened, it seemed like an impossible miracle. Bills were piling up, adding up to more money than I could ever make. Mom’s hospital bills. My baby brother’s tuition. My tuition. Rent. Electricity. All of it on my shoulders. And I had just lost my job. There was no hope, no money in my account, no work to be found. And then, just when I thought all hope was lost, I found an envelope in the mail. No return address. My name on the front, my address. Inside was a check, made out to me, in the amount of ten thousand dollars. Enough to pay the bills and leave me some left over to live on until I found a job. Enough to let me focus on classes. There was no name on the check, just “VRI Inc.,” and a post office box address for somewhere in the city. No hint of identity or reason for the check or anything. No mention of repayment, interest, nothing…except a single word, on the notes line: “You.” Just those three letters.

If you receive a mysterious check, for enough money to erase all your worries, would you cash it?

I did.

The next month, I received another check, again from VRI Incorporated. It too contained a single word: “belong.”

A third check, the next month. This time, two words. Four letters. “To me.”

The checks kept coming. The notes stopped. Ten thousand dollars, every month. A girl gets used to that, real quick. It let me pay the bills without going into debt. Let me keep my baby brother in school and Mom’s hospice care paid for. How do you turn down what seems like free money, when you’re desperate? You don’t. I didn’t.

And then, after a year, there was a knock on my door. A sleek black limousine sat on the curb in front of my house. A driver stood in front of me, and he spoke six words: “It’s time to pay your debt.”

Would you have gotten in?

I did.

It turns out $120,000 doesn’t come free.

***This is a sexy, heart-stopping, full-length standalone novel.***

Falling Into You ~ One year giveaway!

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Thank you so much for the past amazing year! I can’t wait to see what the next year will bring.

Please watch the giveaway video here:

Make sure to enter to win this awesome giveaway gift pack, which includes:

A Team Wild t-shirt, The Falling Into You painting, AND a signed, special edition hardcover of Falling Into You!

Enter with the form below! Thanks and good luck!

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The one year Anniversary of Falling Into You…Surprise!

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FALLING UNDER BLOGGER BANNER

 

Surprise!!!!

It’s the one year Anniversary of publishing Falling Into You!

One year ago today, my husband and I hit “publish” on a book that would change our lives. We’d written the book in a frenzy of desperation, watching titles climb the charts and wondering if we too could put out that kind of story. We wanted to write something different, something daring and risky and difficult. We wanted to use our lives, the stories we’d collected over the years, friends who’d gone through hard times, our own difficulties, and tie it all together with a liberal dose of fiction.

Thus was Falling Into You born. We wrote in a fever, hunched over our laptops, hoping it was okay, hoping it would touch the tastebuds of the wildly ravenous NA audience and be found satisfying.

One year ago today, we moved our mouse a few centimeters, clicked the button, and rolled the dice. What if people hate it? What if it doesn’t sell? What if…what if…what if? Hitting that “publish” button is scary, every single time. No matter how many times you do it—and we’ve done thirty-some times now—it’s still nerve-wracking. That moment, one year ago? Possibly the most tension-fraught moment of our career to date.

Until now.

Today we hit “publish” on something people have been asking about since Falling Into You came out: a third book in the Falling series. It’s called Falling Under, and it’s about…well, you know what? I don’t think I can even begin to tell you. All I will say is Colt and Nell are in it, Jason and Becca are in it, and it’s intense, in a way not even the first two are. And we’re even more nervous and excited about this one than we were FIY.

We’ve had one hell of a ride since FIY started its meteoric rise on the charts. That book established our brand, our style. It propelled us into a place Jack and I never, in our wildest dreams, ever thought we’d be. We still can’t believe that this is our life, that we get to write stories for a living, that we get tap into everything we’ve been through, tap into all of our creativity and all of our talents, and use them to make a living.

So, as we publish this book, we would like to take a moment and say thank you. To all of you, everyone who bought our books, who shared the word with friends and family members and coworkers and blogosphere buddies. You’ve made our career possible. You’ve given us a gift, with each review, each purchase, each share, that we can never repay. We love you. Each and every one of you. We’re thankful for you, and we always will be. We will continue to write books as long as you continue to buy them and review them and share them. (Here’s a secret: word of mouth is still the biggest factor of our success. Every time you tell a friend and introduce them to our books, you are doing us the biggest favor possible.) We will write books that will, hopefully, move you, touch you, challenge you, entice you and make you hot and make you cry. And trust me, we have so many stories to tell that we could write every single day for five years and I’d still have a Notes app full of story ideas.

So…thank you. We love you. I hope you enjoy Falling Under, and please, if you do…tell a friend.

Until the next time I hit “publish” (in April),

xoxo

Jasinda

P.S. The book will be available EVERYWHERE today! It’s already live at ibooks and kobo. Amazon and B&N should have it up very soon!

Saving Forever release day!

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SF TOUR BANNER WITH BLOGS

Saving Forever is HERE!

***Forever & Always *** After Forever *** Saving Forever***

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of my WILD READERS! I am so excited about the launch of Saving Forever today. This trilogy has been one heck of a roller coaster. I really hope you all enjoy the third and final book.
I have Forever & Always on sale for 99 cents for a limited time, so make sure and tell friends to pick it up now before it goes back to the regular $4.99 price.

Here are a few quotes from early reviewers:

“Beautiful. Epically, amazingly beautiful. Honestly one of the best, most brilliant series I’ve ever read.”~ GingerRead Review
 
“A perfect completion to the emotional and impossibility-filled Ever Trilogy. This novel bares all with its characters and delivers a series of events that emotionally bare all to you. Full of hope and forgiveness, this novel forces you to see every situation in a different light. It opens this world up to you and leaves you raw, filled with hope. Her best work yet.” ~ Novel Grounds

Below are links purchase Saving Forever. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Your wonderful reviews mean the world to me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate each and every one.

Amazon US link HERE
Amazon UK link HERE
Barnes & Noble link HERE
iTunes link HERE
Kobo link HERE
Google Play link HERE

Make sure to check out the blog tour. I’m giving away a ton of prizes including a fancy Kindle fire, signed books, and gift cards!

I’d love it if you would take a few minutes and watch the video blogs I did for the tour. They give some further insight to the story, writing and charters in this trilogy.

Just click the link HERE to watch.

Thank you all so much for reading and taking this journey with me. I can’t express to you how awesome it is to have such amazing readers.

Keep an eye out for a big surprise coming next month. I can’t give details but you won’t want to miss this.

Wishing you all an amazeballs Valentine’s Day!

xxoo,
Jasinda

www.jasindawilder.com 

Excerpt from Saving Forever

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Saving Forever Amazon GR SW_sized

From Saving Forever, “brushstrokes and ruins” (CADE)

 

Except for the months of pleasure I’d known with Ever before the accident, it seemed like my entire life had been nothing but pain. I knew, intellectually, that wasn’t true. Mom had died when I was fourteen and life had been great up until then. Mom and Dad loved me. Grams and Gramps loved me. I spent summers at the ranch, and had my art at home. I’d had fourteen years of happiness. I was nearly twenty-three. That meant not quite ten years of hell.

But never had pain felt like this. Ever needed me. She refused to face the truth I knew she saw in me. I knew she’d seen the guilt in me. I’d nearly told her the truth a few times. But I always chickened out. Justified it by telling myself Ever need more time to heal, to recover, to regain herself, her life.

So months passed, and my guilt ate me alive. I loved her as fiercely as ever, but it was overshadowed by the lies, the guilt, the agony of knowing I’d betrayed her. I wasn’t sleeping more than a few hours a night. I woke up tormented by nightmares, wracked with guilt. I woke up and stared at Ever, asleep in our bed next to me, clinging to me, her sweet soft arm across my chest, her breathing soughing in the darkness. And I wanted to shake her awake and tell her to leave me, to find someone worthy of her perfection. I wanted to confess, so I could be free of the secret, rid of the weight of my silent sin. It festered within me, rotting and acidic, poisonous.

I couldn’t eat. I worked, went to the gym, tried to chase my demons away. Tried, and failed.

I felt weak. I felt like life was passing me by, and I was missing it. Ever was getting better every day. She was speaking normally, moving around on her own. Dressing herself, eating by herself. She wasn’t an invalid anymore. I didn’t have to take care of her, much. She needed me for things here and there, but overall, she was making almost miraculous progress. Which meant the day I told her the truth was growing closer. And that meant I was that much closer to letting her go. I’d tell her the truth, and I’d leave. She’d be heartbroken, but it was better than this web of falsehood I was caught up in.

She made love to me with wild abandon. Kissed me as if she was drowning and I was her air. I once had been, but only I knew that I couldn’t be any longer. I kissed her back, because she needed me to, and I couldn’t help but to kiss her back. But I felt as if each kiss was tainting her with the venom of my guilt. As if she could taste the truth on my lips. As if she’d kiss me, touch me, hold me, make love to me, and she might look at me and know. Divine the truth of my sick sin and confront me before I could tell her myself.

It was my nightmare, waking me up every night. Caden, she would say. Her mouth wouldn’t move, but I would hear her words tolling like bells in my skull, and her eyes would be sad and tearful and angry and confused and lost. What did you do? Why? Why her? Why couldn’t you wait for me? Why couldn’t you have faith that I’d come back? WHY HER? And I wouldn’t have any answers. I could only offer her apologies, and those were useless. They were as pointless as the condolences at a funeral. “I’m sorry for your loss,” people always said, as if that had any power to soothe the grief.

Just the same, “I’m so sorry, Ever,” couldn’t possibly contain any salve for the ruin of her heart when she found out what I’d done.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Four months after she woke up, Ever came to me one day as I was making lunch for us both. “I want to paint again,” she said.

She hadn’t so much as looked at her paintings. She hadn’t gone into the studio, hadn’t attempted to draw, hadn’t even mentioned her art. It was too painful, I suspected. It was the hardest thing for her to have lost. Any other pain she could have faced, if only she had her art. But with that ability taken away, she had no way to cope. I didn’t think she had the courage to face the studio, to face the loss of the one thing that made her her.

I set the wooden spoon down on the stove, turned to look at her. She was holding on to the post of entryway to the kitchen with one hand, the other fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt. She was watching me intently for my reaction.

I stepped toward her, wrapped her up in my arms. Her hair smelled like coconut shampoo, a different scent than I was used to. She still used the vanilla lotion, though, and I could smell that on her. That smell, the vanilla sugar lotion, it had the power to wreak havoc on me. I pressed my nose to her neck and inhaled, catching the scent of the lotion, and I was torn out of the present, thrown back two years to the moment when she opened her studio door and let me in, and I kissed her, smelling this same lotion on her skin, wafting from her in waves of seductive sweetness. And I was thrown back as well to the months of her coma. I’d stand at our dresser, holding the bottle of lotion. The cap would be open, and I’d squeeze the tube, just enough to let a current of the scent hit my nostrils, enough to torture me with missing her. And now I smelled it all over again, and it was her, and I’d destroyed us. She just didn’t know it yet.

I inhaled again, seeking courage in the pain of her scent and her arms around me, so trusting and so innocent and so needy. “You’re going to paint again?”

She nodded against me. “I have to try. I’m just warning you. I’ll probably have a nervous breakdown. So just…just be ready.”

I took her face in my hands, brought her chin up, met her vivid, fear-fraught green gaze with mine. Tried to seem steady and strong and loving. Tried to hide the guilt, which was an every-moment-of-every-day labor. “If you have a breakdown, I’ll be there to hold you.”

“That’s all I need.” Her eyes shone with faith.

The horrible thing about this guilt was that I still needed her, still loved her, still wanted her just as much as I ever had. More, perhaps. I would take as much as she would give me until she knew. Her faith may have been misplaced, but I would do my best to be there for her, for as long as I could. Time was short. Soon, everything would change. I knew it, and I was pretty sure she knew it as well.

Ever lifted up on her toes to kiss me, and her lips were gentle on mine, yet still demanding. I kissed her back, because I couldn’t do otherwise.

She backed away from me, and I followed her to the closed door of her studio. I wondered if she knew I’d seen her standing here, late at night, her hand on the knob, her shoulders shaking. I watched, and she never turned the knob. Never went in. So now, the scene was familiar. She stopped at the door, her hand on the knob. Her shoulders shook. I stood behind her, slid my arms around her waist. Kissed the back of her neck, just above the knob of her spine.

“What if it’s gone forever, Cade?” Her voice wasn’t even a whisper. It was…shreds of sound, ripped from somewhere deep within her.

“You’ve learned to walk again. You’ve learned to talk again. You can eat, dress, write. You can do this, Ever.” I had to give her hope, had to give her everything I could, while I was still here to give it to her. Even hard truths. “It will probably be hard as hell. You’ll think about giving up. But you won’t. You’re too strong and too courageous to give up. Art is in your veins, Ev. It’s who you are. And if you can’t paint, by some strange fluke, you’ll find some other way of making art.”

“I’m scared.” She leaned back against me, and I took all of her weight.

I crossed my my arms over her chest and stomach, kissed behind her ear. “You can do it. Just go in, Ev.”

“Baby steps?”

I chuckled. “Baby steps.”

She twisted the knob and gave the door a gentle push. It swung open on silent hinges, bumped against the wall and shivered to a stop. Everything was as she’d left it. I hadn’t dared touch a single thing in this room. An unfinished painting waited on the easel, a piece that reminded me of something Georgia O’Keefe might have painted. A Gerbera Daisy, seen from up close, an almost unlikely shade of violent orange, each petal seen in dramatic detail. The center of the flower dominated the piece, a ring of orange-red, each tiny fiber looking soft and real enough to touch. Only the edges of the painting remained to be finished, the outside of the petals. Ever stepped into the room, her eyes focused on the easel, on the painting. She walked to it as if in a trance, feet shuffling, one hand extending to touch the surface of the canvas. Her finger stroked the center of the painting, nail skritching on the dried oil paint.

“I remember painting this. I was trying to channel Georgia O’Keefe, but with my own touch on it.”

“You got it perfect.”

She remained stone-still, her fingers splayed on the canvas as if in some silent farewell. After a long silence, she spoke in a hesitant, reverent whisper. “It’s like me. Interrupted. Unfinished. Even if I could finish it, it wouldn’t be the same as if I’d finished it then.”

“Ever, you have to know—”

“I’m not that person anymore, Cade.” She let her hand drop, curling her fingers into a fist.

“I loved the person you were then, and I love the person you are now.” That, at least, was the pure, unvarnished truth.

“The problem is, I don’t know who I am anymore. I lost something. Some part of myself, and I don’t know what it is or how to get it back. And I know you love me.” Ever turned in my arms, brushed my hair away from my face. “And I love you. But…it’s not enough. You loving me doesn’t fix what’s wrong with me. And…goddamnit—” she squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, stifling a faint sob. “You’re not the same either. You’re broken too, Cade. Everything…everything is broken.”

I’d never seen this side of Ever, this raw and agonized despair. I didn’t know how to make it better. “I know.” It was all I could say. The only words that would come out. “I’m sorry. Fuck, Ever. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

For betraying you. “For being broken when you need me to be whole.” I just couldn’t get the words out, the truth was lodged in my chest. “For…for everything.”

Her eyes searched me, and I saw the knowledge there. She knew. Not what, but that there was something to know, a truth hidden between us. A moment passed, and I met her gaze, unwavering. Pleading with her silently, begging her to demand the truth from me, to vilify me as I deserved. Instead, she clutched my face with shaking hands and drew my mouth down to hers and kissed me, and it seemed a vampiric kiss in a way, as if she was sucking strength from me, courage from me. I gave it willingly. She could take all of me, leave me limp and dead, if it would mean she was alive and happy.

Pulling away, breathless, she stepped back, searched the room for something. Found the age-soft and paint-splattered button-down white shirt, hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. Took it in her hands and stared at it. Memory showed in the bow of her shoulders. I stood, watching, waiting. Ever set the shirt on the chair back once more, reached down to the hem of the green V-neck she was wearing, pulled it off, folded it and set it on the seat of the chair. She didn’t spare me a glance; this wasn’t about me anymore; I was merely witness. Her fingers shook as she unzipped and unbuttoned her jeans, put them neatly atop her shirt. Standing in gray cotton panties and green silk bra, she was more beautiful to me than she’d ever been. Courage made her beautiful. Tenacity made her glow. To retake what was stripped so unfairly away took more guts than I’d ever have.

She had to pause for breath, pause to gather her nerves. And then, she reached up behind her back, freed the clasps of her bra and hung it from the corner of the chair back. She was facing away from me, and I couldn’t breathe for the sight of the curve of her bare back. I stared, branding the image into my mind. This moment, this vignette, it was now something sacred to me. She was physically exposed, emotionally vulnerable, braving her deepest fear, and she was doing it alone. I didn’t think she was even aware of my presence any longer, and in a way, that was as it should be. She’d have to learn to live without me.

She stepped out of her underwear, set them on the chair. Ever stood naked in her art studio, her pale skin pebbling from the chill in the air. I devoured her naked form with my eyes, buried the memory of this moment deep within me. I would need something to hold on to, when all fell apart.

At long last, she slid her arms into the sleeves of the shirt, buttoned it with shaky fingers, smoothed her hand down her front, over her hips, as if to press the reality into her skin, as if to tell herself that she was truly doing this, and that she could. I stood with my back to the wall near the door, willing her onward.

She took a black Sharpie from the tray of the easel and signed her name carefully to the bottom right corner of the daisy painting, and then, beneath that, wrote: “Interrupted”. Ever heaved a deep sigh, and lifted the four-by-six canvas from the easel, carried it across the room, set it on the floor with a stack of other finished paintings.

She considered it finished, I realized, and I understood the symbolism in her choice.

Four-by-six was her favorite size canvas to work with, and she had a stack of them pre-stretched. Ever chose a canvas, set it on the easel, added fresh paint to each primary color splotch on her palette. Chose a brush. Held the palette in one hand, her brush hanging at her side. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, nervous and afraid to begin. I could almost hear her thoughts. What if I can’t do it? What if I forgot how?

She stood still and silent for a long time, staring at the blank canvas. I was beginning to think she’d frozen. She nodded once, and then set her brush down and chose a different one, a thick, fat brush for broad strokes. She touched the tip to the black paint, and I could see her hand trembling as she drew the brush across the middle of the canvas. It was a thick, gloppy stroke, a harsh line of black on the clean white. Another long pause, and then she flattened the brush against the black  paint and spread it around, added more, and more. With every stroke she grew more confident, and soon the whole canvas was black and she was filling in missed slices of white.

I couldn’t even begin to wonder what she was doing, and I didn’t dare ask. This was a private moment, one that belong only to Ever, and I was privileged to watch. I crossed my arms over my chest and kept silent, making sure even my breathing was quiet.

Ever set the black-smeared brush on the tray and picked up the one she’d originally chosen, a medium-point brush. She dabbed at the white paint, brought it in an arc horizontally across the canvas, refreshed the paint on the brush and made a mirrored arc to match the first. Slowly, then, she filled in the space between the arcs, merging the black and the white so that it seemed almost pixellated, as if the black was fading to white.

It wasn’t until she stepped back that I understood what she’d painted: an eye, opening.

“The moment you woke up,” I said. She only nodded. “You haven’t forgotten.”

Ever set her brush and palette down, turned in place to look at me, hesitated, and then ran and threw herself into my arms. She cried long and hard.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Relief filled her voice. “It’s not the same, though. Even that is different. I don’t—I’m not sure I can explain it. I don’t see things the same. When I think about painting something, even the images in my head are different than I remember them being, before.”

Before.

Her life was split into before and after.

For me, it wasn’t so simple. There was before, and there was after, and there was the unmitigated hell of between. During. That time, the during, that was what had broken me. I’d survived the loss of my parents, my grandparents. I may have survived the loss of Ever, if she’d actually died. But she didn’t. I’d lost her, but not completely. It wasn’t the pain of her loss, the agony of limbo, nor even the uncertainty of not knowing if she’d ever wake up that had done me in, though; it was the choices I’d made. The fact that I’d lost sight, lost hope, and betrayed her. And she’d woken up. I couldn’t undo it, couldn’t take it back. And even now, I wasn’t sure if I could have done anything differently. But that didn’t change the reality of my now. It didn’t alter the fact that when Ever found out, it would gut her.

And that would crumble even the ruins of what remained of me.

 PRE-ORDER LINK HERE for Amazon    HERE for iTunes

The Ever Trilogy is Here

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banner

 

The Ever Trilogy is here!

Forever & Always ~ After Forever ~ Saving Forever

 

“So, grab some tissues… wine… a pint of häagen-dazs peanut butter and chocolate ice cream… whatever you think will get you through this roller coaster ride of emotions because I promise you will need something, but every emotion you feel while on this ride is so completely and utterly worth it. You do not want to miss out on this 5 star, MUST READ book!” ~Bookslapped
 
“Once again, Jasinda has given us an emotional roller coaster that is a MUST read.”~ Smut Book Club

“Forever & Always was joyful, heartbreaking, breathtaking, angsty, hopeful and sexy.”~ The Book Blog

“Each page bleeds emotion, heartbreak, tragedy and a deep-seated need for connection. This story is a journey.”~ Vilma’s Book Blog 

“Jasinda has a gift. She can wring you out emotionally one minute, make you swoon the next, make you all hot and bothered then make you cry again. Yet it all is wrapped up in an unputdownable package of realistic characters that you can’t help but love.”~ Ana’s Attic Book Blog
 
“The letters, inked with affection, pure emotion, genuine and honest – a brilliant masterpiece. Jasinda Wilder, this, my love, was pure genius!” ~ Brandi’s Bookshelf

***************************************

Merry almost Christmas! I can’t believe that time of year is here already. Last year at this time, I was trying to rewrite Rock Stars Do It Forever all over again because my computer died and took that whole manuscript with it. Do any of you remember that? #goodtimes

It sure looks like Christmas in northern Michigan today! We got a ton of snow last night and it’s the perfect day to snuggle up with a warm drink, a Christmas cookie and a good book. May I suggest my new book(s)?

Forever and Always the first book of the trilogy, released last night and it already getting some amazing reviews! Thank you so much in advance for reviewing. After Forever is now LIVE at Amazon and B&N. It will be delayed at iTunes and Kobo because they are on a holiday shutdown. I will post links on Facebook, Twitter, and my website as soon as they go live. I’ve also put up a preorder for book 3, Saving Forever. That book will release on February 14th. I’m so excited for you to read this series! In my opinion, this is some of the best writing I’ve ever done and some of my most captivating characters. I hope you agree. Links are below!
Happy reading, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year from all of the Wilder family. 

Purchase LINKS to buy book 1, Forever & Always!

To buy from Amazon US click HERE
To buy from Amazon UK click HERE
To buy from Amazon CA click HERE
To buy from B&N click HERE
To buy from iTunes click HERE
To buy from Kobo click HERE

Purchase LINKS for After Forever 

To buy from Amazon http://amzn.to/1i8g6lN

To buy from B&N click HERE

Paperback:
Forever & Always: http://amzn.to/19fUeSY
After Forever: http://amzn.to/191tX59

Preorder book 3 from Amazon US HERE
Please also check out my new website www.jasindawilder.com  for several events coming up where I would LOVE to see you.

The Missionary by Jack Wilder is LIVE!

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Screen Shot 2013-10-09 at 7.01.13 PM

 

The Missionary by Jack Wilder

When the missionary becomes the mission.

I’m so excited to announce the release of The Missionary by my husband, Jack Wilder.

If you haven’t heard about it yet, here’s the blurb.
Ex-Navy SEAL Stone Pressfield had a bad feeling about the proposed missions trip to Manila, Philippines. The college-age church group plans to go to Manila and help victims of the sex-trafficking industry. Stone’s lingering nightmare memories about the sex-trafficking industry has him warning church leaders that the trip is a bad idea. He knows all too well that it could end in violence, and those involved aren’t to be trifled with.

 

When beautiful Wren Morgan goes missing, he has a sick feeling that he knows exactly who took her, and for what purpose. The problem is, Wren is just any other student. She’s someone he was close to, someone he cares about. Now she’s in the hands of cruel, evil men, and Stone is the only one who can rescue her before the unthinkable happens.

What the reviews are saying:

The Missionary is incredible, haunting, lovely, and a must read.” – Smut Book Club

“Mr. Wilder has blown my mind with his amazing new book. Seriously. This is a MUST READ! 5 STARS!” – Bookslapped

“I couldn’t put this book down.”- Book Geeks Unite

I promise you won’t be sorry you took a chance on this book. You can find it available now at any of your favorite ebook retailers. Paperback is coming soon!

Click HERE for Amazon
Click HERE for Amazon.UK
Click HERE for B&N
Click HERE for Kobo
iTunes should be up soon!

As always, reviews are so appreciated. Thank you so much for reading and for your support.

Jasinda (and Jack!)

Vegas and Stripped OH MY!

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Stripped

 

Well the day has finally arrived. My super sexy new release Stripped is HERE! Have you heard what the reviews are saying? OH.MY.WORD. Here is a tiny peek below. Hope to see some of you in Vegas this weekend. I will have paperbacks of Stripped available for signing.

“You will need fans, ice, Valium!!!!! I wish I were kidding.” ~ Natasha is a Book Junkie

“Stripped has some of the hottest, most intense, emotionally moving sex scenes I’ve ever read. There’s a tremendous amount of buildup to finally get to the good stuff, and when you get there, the reward is page after page after page of emotional, intense, and creative sex. Well done, Jasinda. *slow clap* Well done.” ~ Smut Book Club

“A sensuous, erotic and breathtaking romance that breaks molds, shatters thoughts and makes you feel alive. Beautiful. Sinful. Sexy. The perfect read” ~ Angie’s Dreamy Reads

“One of the most addicting books of the year! Filled with seduction, struggle and star power, I couldn’t put this book down. And god, it’s absolutely off-the-charts, intensely hot! Get ready!”~ Vilma’s Book Blog

“Jasinda Wilder proves again why she is a bestselling author – Grey and Dawson will knock not only your socks off but the rest of your clothes as well; Seductive, Sexy and Sensational” ~ Whirlwindbooks

Slow building and then an explosion that leaves you so satisfied and wanting more. Smokin’ hot love scenes that will rival any that you’ve read before.~A Love Affair With Books

“Jasinda Wilder writes a powerful love story, that draws you in and holds you, either with compelling characters, story line or sweetly erotic love scenes.” ~ Ripe For Reader

You want a sexy read? You want to cry ugly tears and laugh out of loud at the same time? You want to swoon over a book worthy boyfriend? ….THEN READ STRIPPED!!! ~ Jacqueline’s Reads

“A virgin stripper? Reading the blurb had me intrigued, but finishing the book left me obsessed!” ~Dirty Girl Book Club

Amazon BUY LINK HERE
Amazon PAPERBACK BUY LINK HERE
iTUNES BUY LINK HERE
B&N BUY LINK HERE
KOBO BUY LINK HERE

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoy it.
Please think about leaving a review. Reviews are da bomb.

Hope you all have a great weekend.
Happy reading!

Stripped Blog Tour!

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BIG NEWS! The blogger blast for Stripped will be August 11-15 leading up to the release on the 16th.
Each day of the blast I will be giving away a $100 Amazon gift card.
Yep, 5 of them!
Make sure to follow the tour for the chance to win those as well as signed paperbacks and swag.
LOTS of prizes. I love my readers and I want to thank you for being so awesome.
Only four days until the fun starts!

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