Blog Tour Promo Spot & Giveaway: Heroes Are My Weakness – Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Posted August 5, 2015 by Shannon in Blog Tour, Giveaways / 2 Comments

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HEROES ARE MY WEAKNESS
Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Releasing in Paperback July 28th
Avon Romance

TheΒ dead of winter.

An isolated island off the coast of Maine.

A man.

A woman.

A sinister house looming over the sea …He’s a reclusive writer whose macabreΒ imagination creates chilling horror novels. She’s a down-on-her-luck actressΒ reduced to staging kids’ puppet shows. He knows a dozen ways to kill with hisΒ bare hands. She knows a dozen ways to kill with laughs.

But she’s not laughing now. When she was aΒ teenager, he terrified her. Now they’re trapped together on a snowy island offΒ the coast of Maine. Is he the villain she remembers or has he changed? Her head
says no. Her heart says yes.

It’s going to be a long, hot winter.

Β 
Now Available in Paperback
AmazonΒ |Β B&NΒ |Β BAM
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Instead of kitchen cabinets, rough shelves held stoneware bowls and crocks. Tall, freestanding dark wood cupboards rose on each side of a dull black industrial-sizeΒ AGAΒ stove. A stone farmhouse sink held a messy stack of dirty dishes. Copper stockpots and saucepansΒΎnot shiny and polished, but dented and wornΒΎhung above a long, scarred wooden prep table designed to chop off chicken heads, butcher mutton chops, or whip up a syllabub for his lordship’s dinner.

The kitchen had to be a renovation, but what kind of renovation regressed two centuries. And why?

Run!Β Crumpet shrieked.Β Something’s very wrong here!

Whenever Crumpet got hysterical, Annie counted on Dilly’s no-nonsense manner to provide perspective, but Dilly remained silent, and not even Scamp could come up with a wisecrack.

β€œMr. Shaw?” Annie’s voice lacked its normal powers of projection.

When there was no reply, she moved deeper into the kitchen, leaving wet tracks on the stone floor. But no way was she taking off her boots. If she had to run, she wasn’t doing it in socks. β€œWill?”

Not a sound.

She passed the pantry, crossed a narrow back hallway, detoured around the dining room, and stepped through the arched entry into the foyer. Only the dimmest gray light penetrated the six square panes above the front door. The heavy mahogany staircase still led to a landing with a murky stained-glass window, but the staircase carpet was now a depressing maroon instead of the multicolored floral from the past. The furniture bore a dusty film, and a cobweb hung in the corner. The walls had been paneled over in heavy, dark wood, and the seascape paintings had been replaced with gloomy oil portraits of prosperous men and women in nineteenth-century dress, none of whom could possibly have been Elliott Harp’s Irish peasant ancestors. All that was missing to make the entryway even more depressing was a suit of armor and a stuffed raven.

She heard footsteps above her and moved closer to the staircase. β€œMr. Shaw? It’s Annie Hewitt. The door was open, so I let myself in.” She looked up. β€œI’m going to need¾” The words died on her tongue.

The master of the house stood at the top of the stairs.

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SusanΒ Elizabeth Phillips soars onto the New York Times bestseller list with every newΒ publication. She’s the only four-time recipient of the Romance Writers ofΒ America’s prestigious Favorite Book of the Year Award. Susan delights fans byΒ touching hearts as well as funny bones with her wonderfully whimsical andΒ modern fairy tales. A resident of the Chicago suburbs, she is also a wife, andΒ mother of two grown sons.
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I am a lover of alpha males with dirty mouths, strong heroines putting alpha males in their place, and the Chicago Blackhawks. I'm a proud hockey mom who can often be found at the hockey rink cheering on my favorite forward, with my kindle close by.

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