Marietta Hotels by Rachell Nichole Book Tour and Giveaway :)



An Affair Across Times Square

Marietta Hotels Book 1
by Rachell Nichole
Genre: Contemporary Romance


Layla Morgan is tired of getting into trouble, and getting hurt. And she fears her wild nature is going to strike yet again. But maybe this time, she’s finally met the guy that can stand close enough to touch her inner flames, and not get burned. The man across Times Square seems enthralled by her wildness instead of scared in the face of it. He can’t seem to look away as she shows him just how much fun she can have… with herself.


After one glance of silky skin and talented fingers, Tyler Lachlan doesn’t stand a chance of resisting the delicious distraction of the mystery woman from the Marietta Hotel. He’s sure there’s more to her than her sultry voice and mahogany thighs, but he doesn’t know if he’s willing to risk his career to find out.

Could what began as a voyeuristic affair across Times Square develop into something more?



Layla sank to her knees on the plush beige carpet, resting her head against the curtained window.
“What are you doing?” She hissed the words through clenched teeth, still shaking from her second orgasm. What, indeed? God, her mother would kill her if she found out. Layla had to call down to the concierge, get her room changed right away. She’d never be able to look out her window again without heat infusing her body. Who came in to the office at six a.m.? She’d never seen anyone there until well past eight.
But her heart pounded, refusing to let her move. She had never felt such a rush as she had holding that intense, dark gaze and bringing herself quivering to the edge. She wanted more of it. Craved his hot, fixated look. She felt his eyes on her every step of the way. And she’d no longer pictured Brian. Her full attention had been on the man across Times Square and his ebony skin. His face was chiseled with a square jaw. A light suit perfectly set off his shaved head and wide shoulders. Within a moment or two, staring at him and touching herself, she’d come.
She knew better than to let herself get out of control. It only got people hurt, and she was always one of them. Not to mention proper ladies didn’t seduce voyeurs across the street. Which was almost enough to make her want to do it anyway, just because she knew it was wrong. She reined in her impulses, desperate to control them and think this through before she did anything else.
What if she could let this be her one outlet? It would help her decompress and keep her thoughts off Brian. This idea held possibilities. Terrifying possibilities. Mr. Times Square probably had a wife, and she shouldn’t be fooling around with him, even from a distance. If he was married, he had no business looking into her personal window. She shook her head at her foolishness. Why hadn’t she bothered to check if someone was in one of those rooms in the building across the street?
Her legs felt like they were filled with custard instead of bones, her muscles still quivering inside and out. She raised a shaky hand to the curtain and slid one panel to the left half an inch. Just enough to see out, to look into Mr. TS’s window and see that he was gone. She tried to squash the disappointment blooming in her chest. He’d run away. She had no right being disappointed, no right parading herself in front of him like some Amsterdam prostitute in the window. What if someone else had been in that office and seen her?

Layla looked at the rest of the windows, searching, making sure no one else had witnessed her personal peep show. She couldn’t see anyone, but she hadn’t seen her voyeur until it was too late. She returned her gaze to his small office. Not even a plant in there. Nothing that told her about him. No paintings on the wall. Nothing but the desk, two chairs in front of it and one behind, and the door out of the office, which opened. She froze as he came back into view.



An Engagement in Paris
Marietta Hotels Book 2

All Mandy Lachlan wanted was her own identity. All she had to do was run away to Paris to find it. Instead, she finds love, a baby, and a marriage proposal.

Julien Chevalier needs a family. Ever since his mother left when he was a kid, he’s been searching for the security and consistency that comes with marriage and babies. So when he falls for the young African American professor at the Sorbonne, he knows immediately this is the woman for him.

Julien needs to get married the same way Mandy needs her freedom. When they find themselves at the impasse of matrimony, one of them will have to compromise what they want and need.


Last June
Pregnant? How the hell could she be pregnant? No way. These stupid French baby tests must be wrong, or maybe her French had suddenly left her and she couldn’t read the directions, because there was no way Mandy Lachlan could be pregnant. She was barely getting her shit together. She couldn’t be responsible for someone else’s life.
She’d only known Julien a few months. How could she have been so stupid? She’d let herself get caught up in the romance of a Paris fling. Damn Julien for seducing her. And damn her for letting him.
Mandy dropped her head into her hands, tears running down her face. What was she going to do? She liked Julien, the cocky twenty-year-old who’d swaggered into her class half an hour late and expected his cute smile and the sexy flop of dirty-blond hair would excuse him. Surely his high cheekbones, baby face, and bright green eyes had gotten him out of many sticky situations. She’d kicked him out immediately.
She still wasn’t sure what had made her do it. Perhaps it was his overall attitude. Or maybe because it was her first day teaching in a foreign country and she wanted to establish herself as a tough professor. But most likely, she’d done it because she’d been so irrationally attracted to him from the minute he stepped into the classroom.
Over the past few months, that hadn’t changed at all. He’d dropped her class, and as soon as she signed the paperwork, he’d asked her out. What idiocy had caused her to say yes, she still wasn’t sure. And now here she was, alone in her apartment and wondering what in the world she was going to do. She couldn’t tell Julien they were going to have a baby. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He’d freak.
Resigning herself to breaking up with him, Mandy wrapped up the pregnancy test and hid it in the bottom of the bathroom garbage can. She wiped away the tears and took a deep breath. Maybe one day she could love Julien, but she wasn’t going to let him throw his future away because she’d been stupid enough to get pregnant. Damn those birth control pills: 99.9 percent effective, and she had to be the .1 percent, damn it.
He was young and French. He’d get over her ending their fling. Because that was all it had been. It couldn’t be any more than that. She didn’t do serious relationships. Especially not with someone eight years her junior.
Mandy was so not ready to be a mother, but she didn’t really have a choice now.
The familiar creak of her apartment door announced Julien’s arrival. Mandy gulped in air, trying to calm her stampeding heart and jangled nerves. This wasn’t the first time she’d broken up with someone. So why did the thought fill her with such dread?

MA BELLE,” JULIEN Chevalier called as he closed the door behind him and set the small bag of groceries on the counter. He loved that Mandy let him stay here. That she was letting him make this small Parisian apartment of hers into their home. They hadn’t been together long, but it was enough time for him to be sure. His African American goddess was the best thing to ever happen to him. He loved her. Head over heels was the English expression. There wasn’t really an equivalent idiom en français, except perhaps follement amoureux—crazily in love.
Oui?” his beauty asked, emerging from the bedroom.
Julien paused to admire the sight of her coming toward him. A soft pink tank top hugged her curves, showing him a delicious expanse of ebony cleavage. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think her breasts had grown. They looked fuller and more delectable each time he caught a glimpse of them. She’d pulled her shoulder-length black hair back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, leaving the long line of dark skin from her chin to her collarbone exposed for his viewing pleasure.
She smiled, but it didn’t hold the same welcoming warmth it usually did. Mandy had astounded him from day one with her ability to live in the moment. He loved the passion she brought with her everywhere she went, both in and out of the bedroom. He would have loved to take a class with her, to see that passion in action at the Sorbonne, but one did not date one’s professor. Today the hurricane force that was his lover seemed diminished, and he wanted to know why.
As soon as he’d set his sights on seducing the hard-assed firecracker, he’d known he would have to drop her class. No one had ever proved so immune to his charms. She’d kicked him out of the lecture hall, verbally destroying him in perfectly pronounced French, with a few choice words and phrases in English. He’d fallen in love with her right then.
Julien walked across the space that separated them and wrapped his arms around his belle, Mandy. He kissed her cheek softly in greeting. “How was your day?” he asked.
Bien.”
It didn’t sound as if her day had gone well, but he’d learned quickly that she would tell him something when she damned well pleased and not a moment before. He could try to weasel it out of her all he wanted, but it wouldn’t do him much good. Instead, he traced small designs on the soft fabric of her shirt and kissed his way down her exposed neck.
Bon. Well, I brought stuff home from the market to make duck à l’orange. It’ll be ready soon,” Julien said between light flicks of his tongue.
He loved the way they could switch back and forth between English and French with fluid ease. Normally they spoke a mix of Franglais, as Mandy called it.
“Okay. I’ll get out of your way. Let me know if you need anything.”

Mandy pulled away from his touch, apparently in no mood for his seduction techniques. She never remained aloof for long, but he would let her think she’d won this time, at least until dinner was over. Tonight was the night.



A Love Affair in Las Vegas
Marietta Hotels Prequel

Dawn Jansen has only ever wanted one thing: to provide a life for her daughter in New York City, away from the small-town minds of her family and her upbringing. She has fought hard to finally make it to manager at the Hauteman hotel, and one of her first duties is to attend a conference at the Marietta Las Vegas to learn all she can about running the show. But when she arrives in Las Vegas, her plans to learn as much as she can on a professional level, turns into learning far more about herself than her job. She may get a second-chance at this whole love thing after all.

Barnaby “Barney” Garrison has always had one goal in life: to help people. He’s found his calling as manager of the Marietta Times Square, and since his past failed relationship, has focused all of his energy on being the best manager he can be. This year, that means helping to run the Marietta Hotels second annual Hoteliers’ Conference in Vegas. But as soon as he notices Dawn in the crowd, his focus instantly splits, his desires for her swift and fierce. When he realizes the attraction is mutual, he doesn’t waste any time seducing her to his bed. But when he suspects she’s hiding something from him, he worries that maybe he’s just destined to attract two-timing women to his life.


Can what began as a fling in Vegas turn into something more once they’re home in New York? Or does what happen in Vegas truly stay in Vegas?




He was seriously underdressed. As Dawn sat across from him at the table of the restaurant in a stunning red dress, he couldn’t help staring. He was in a suit, so it wasn’t like he was sloppy, exactly, but the way that soft crimson fabric hugged her voluptuous curves put his suit to shame. They had shared a quick bite to eat at the hotel’s restaurant earlier, but this felt much more like a true date, and he was delighted. 

“You look ravishing, love,” he said. 

She beamed at him. “Thanks.” She wore no jewelry except a small pair of silver hoop earrings. Not that she needed any sparkle at all. Her braids were pulled up into an elegant twist atop her head, leaving her neck deliciously bare down the deep v top of the dress. “It’s new.” 

Had she gotten it just for tonight? The thought made him wild inside. The idea that she had picked out something just for their date… damn. That was a big deal. When was the last time somebody had dressed up for him? He couldn’t remember. “Well, it’s hot as hell.” 

“I’m glad you like it. And I’ve no doubt you’ll really enjoy what I’ve got on underneath it.” 

His response caught in his throat as the waiter approached from behind Dawn. She chuckled at the face he made. 

“How are you this evening, folks?” the waiter asked. 

Barnaby had to clear his throat before responding. “Fine, thank you.” 

Barnaby tried to give his full attention to the waiter, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from shifting to Dawn every few seconds, admiring the long curve of her shoulder and her toffee-colored skin against the bright red of the fabric. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what she had on underneath. Something red and lacy? Satin? Black? 

“Sir?” the voice of the waiter finally broke through his thoughts and he tore his gaze away from Dawn. 

“I’ll have the New York strip, medium-rare, baked potato, and broccoli, please.” Apparently, he would need his strength tonight. 

His balls tightened at the thought. Oh, the things he was going to do to her in that dress. 

The waiter left them a moment later and he knew that he needed to focus them on topics of a non-sexual nature, or they’d never make it through dinner without tearing each other’s clothes off. Yesterday, when they’d been flirting and building up the sexual tension, he had fantasized about what she would feel like, taste like. Now that he knew, he wouldn’t be able to contain himself if he didn’t keep some semblance of civilized conversation, when all he really wanted to do was to whisper all the naughty things he would to do to her over the dinner table. 

“Sorry, that was probably not the best timing for that proclamation, was it?” She quirked her mouth up on one side and glanced down at the table, before looking at him again.

Rachell Nichole is a contemporary erotic romance author, who loves writing sexy romances about memorable characters who have to fight to hold on to love.
Rachell holds two undergraduate degrees, one in Professional Writing and the other in French. She also received a Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction at Seton Hill University. She is the author of The Marietta Hotels Series, Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce, Gingerbread Photography, To Sir, Belle By Night, and Queen of Hearts.
Rachell lives in Pennsylvania with a mountain of books, the love of her life, and an invisible cat who likes to snuggle.


Oh, the Muse!
Hi folks,
Thanks so much for having me.
For the most part, my Muse is a beotch!
She gives me ideas while I’m lying in bed trying to sleep – having new ideas is great, but damn does the timing suck. She also gives me ideas while I’m in the shower, or driving, neither of which is terribly convenience. The second-to-worst thing she does to me, is give me shiny new ideas for new books while I’m in the middle of writing a book, especially when said book is on a deadline! This has happened most recently with A Love Affair in Las Vegas. I was in the midst of writing Elle by Night, and also working on getting my backlist ready to re-publish after my publisher closed down, and thinking about what other projects to work on, but like down the line, not right away. And low and behold, I’m struck with another idea to add to my Marietta International Hotels series, only this was an idea for a book that would make a great prequel to the series, and serve as a great brand-new intro for the re-launch. Trouble was, I had already scheduled the releases for Books 1 and 2 (An Affair Across Times Square & An Engagement in Paris) for July. So, then it was a mad dash to flesh out the main idea, and develop the right characters, and write the story! That doesn’t mean that I have short-changed Dawn and Barnaby, or my readers, but it does mean that I had to put one project completely on hold and focus everything I had on another in order to get it done by the timeline it needed to be done on!

But the absolute worst thing is when I feel deserted by my Muse.
Then, I have to coax her out of hiding. This is what I like to call bribing the Muse. Now how does one go about bribing a Muse, you ask, well, let me tell you:
  1. Write something frivolous, completely unrelated to any WIPs and usually from a writing prompt. Doing this allows me to think creatively about new things. Some of my best, funniest writing has come from prompts or assignments from writing workshops or classes. Sometimes it doesn’t help me get unstuck with a WIP problem right that second, but it helps me feel better, and it placates that fickle creature we call the Muse.
  2. Read a good book. When I really just cannot get anywhere in a book, I go read someone else’s genius. This always helps. Even when I hate to stop reading a good book, I often get inspiration and go back to my WIP immediately.
  3. Physical activity. It can be a load of dishes, a walk around the block, an hour of yoga, cleaning my ever-ridiculously-messy desk or shopping. Something that gets me away from the computer, away from the WIP, and into a different headspace. I consciously don’t think about the WIP, and inevitably when I come back to work, the Muse has been placated by a stroll or a new purse and I get back to work.
  4. Ignore her! This is a tricky reverse-psychology technique that I learned early on with my Muse. I ignore her and seek help elsewhere – usually by talking out the problems with someone else. Making their Muse work, and making mine jealous! It works every time. :-p
So there you have it – the ways my Muse is evil and the ways to give her a little nudge when she’s being raving beotch!
For any writers out there – do you have any tricks or anecdotes to share about your Muses? Readers, any other suggestions for me?
~Rach
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