Saturday, November 23, 2013

Tough Luck #3 Blog Tour

Title: Tough Luck (Hard Rock Roots #3)
Author: C.M. Stunich
Release Date: November 14, 2013
Genre: New Adult Romance

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Synopsis -

Ronnie McGuire is my target.

But I wish he wasn't.

I didn't sign up for this destruction, this pain.

In his music, I hear his soul crying out for me.

If I could, I'd run away from here and never look back because to tell you the truth, I'm terrified. There are forces weighing in on me that even I don't understand. I'm scared. Things are dangerous. This could get real ugly, real fast.

& & &

Lola Saints is a godsend.

But I wish she wasn't.

I don't know sh*t about her, but already, I'm hooked.

When she plays, I can almost imagine the ghosts of the dead are calling out to me.

If I could, I'd shed my soul and leave the pain of the past behind me. But I can't. I have to figure out if there's a way to fall in love anew and respect the old. But something else is going on, something weird. Something that tells me my tough luck might just run out real fast.

*This is NOT the last book in the series. There will be later books featuring Turner and Naomi again, and they also appear in this volume quite a bit. ;)

Review -

I absolutely love this series!! 5 AMAZING STARS! Talk about a mind f*ck…pardon my language, but holy smokes! You have got to read this series. It is gritty and dirty with sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll, and suspense up the wazoo! The author does an amazing job of slowly letting out hints and secrets so you are constantly guessing along with the characters as to what is going to happen next or who did what. I’m so glad book 4 will be released soon because each book ends on a major cliff hanger leaving you with your jaw dropped to the floor. Do NOT miss this series!! ~Kendra

Buy the Book –

Also, to celebrate this release, book #1, REAL UGLY, is on sale at $0.99 until December 1st!!! 


Amazon US:  $0.99!!
Amazon UK: 

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#4 - BAD DAY (1 Dec 2013)

Deleted Scenes from Hard Rock Roots (Books #1 & #2)

SCENE #1 (Naomi Knox):
My little invitation turns into a fucking party and soon, we've got everybody and their freakin' grandma gathered around the table: America, Wren, Kash, Blair, Quinn, and me.  Even Spencer, who's driving the damn bus is throwing her two cents in.  Everyone but Hayden.  She's asleep in the back, knocked flat by a little Vicodin mixed with vodka.  Yum yum.
        After a little experimentation, my ass is now planted firmly on a stool and I've got an acoustic guitar in hand.  Five eager faces gaze up at me and wait for my lips to part, for the song that's been boiling beneath my skin to burst out.  They all know it's coming, so I don't hold back.  Hayden's not conscious right now, so what's the point?  Normally, I try not to sing around her because it freaks her out.  She gets really nervous and jittery and starts screaming.  Does she feel threatened?  Maybe.  But if there's one thing that I really think would get her to spill the beans, break our little arrangement, it's my voice.

SCENE #2 (Turner Campbell):
I need to know about this girl and why she thinks she has the right to crap all over me.  Who does she think she is, and where do I know her from?  Does she have something on me?  If so, I'm gonna take care of it now before it explodes out of control.  I'm not making that mistake again.  That whole pissing thing has already gotten out of control, and I'm tired of getting angry emails about it.  I'm not a woman hater; I love women.  Why does sleeping with them automatically make me some kind of bigoted fuckwad?  Besides, that girl asked me to try something kinky, and I was drunk off my ass.  Still, when she started blackmailing me with that video, I ignored her.  Now I have a fucking lawsuit.  Not.  Happening.  Again.

SCENE #3 (Turner Campbell):
I toss Naomi's guitar into an open case and race out the back door and around the side of the building.  There are people fucking everywhere, screaming and shouting and clawing at me.  A horde of howling demons surrounds me as I slip under the ropes and past the police escorts, straight into the fray.  Hands slide across the crotch, slip under my shirt, pull at my hair.  Even through the raging storm of this riot, I can hear Treyjan calling out to me.  Frankly, I could give a shit less about our set.  I'll try to be back in time, but if I can find that girl, it won't matter.  None of it will.  Questions bombard me and cameras blind me as I claw my way through the mass towards the front entrance.
        In my heart, I know that this is hopeless, but I've got to fucking try.  Even the smallest what-if is worth dying for.  So I plow through crazed fans and reporters and murder mystery enthusiasts until I hit the parking lot.  There's a little more room to maneuver here, at least for now.
        “Turner!”  Somehow, Milo is standing near the ticket window staring at me like I've lost my Goddamn mind.  He's waving me over, begging me with wide eyes to listen for once in my fucking life.  But that's because he doesn't understand this desperate need that's taken hold of me.
        I have to find that girl.
        The crowd surges forward and engulfs me, knocking me to my knees, grinding me to the pavement.  People press down on me like an avalanche, knocking my palms to the pavement, scraping my skin along the oily concrete.  I hear my name echoing around me, and for the first time ever, I see my fame as a curse instead of a blessing.  Hiding behind the walls of my bus, behind the fog of the drugs, the whisper of sweet, anonymous lips, I haven't seen this side of it.  And let me tell you, it's real ugly.  Real fucking ugly.
        There's this pain and this sadness, this tragedy, and they don't care about any of it.  They see me how they want to see me, refuse to acknowledge my pain.  This is hell.  Destroyed by your own dream.  Brilliant, Turner.  Look at you now, you fucking fool.
        In the heaving mass of faces and greedy, grasping hands, something stands out at me.
        A pair of bare feet, frozen and still in the kicking and the scrambling, the stampeding.
        I fight through to it, crawling beneath the sea of followers I've always wanted, who believe everything I've ever told them.  I said worship me, they said yes sir.  And now I'm paying for it.  My own arrogance is fucking the ever living shit out of me.
        When I get to that island of stillness, I reach up and out and a hand brushes mine, depositing something in my fingers.  I have no idea what it is, can't even hazard a guess.  All I can do is tuck it close and hope to hell I get to fucking keep it.

About the Author -

C.M. Stunich was raised under a cover of fog in the area known simply as Eureka, CA. A mysterious place, this strange, arboreal land nursed Caitlin's (yes, that's her name!) desire
to write strange fiction novels about wicked monsters, magical trains, and Nemean Lions (Google it!). She currently enjoys drag queens, having too many cats, and tribal bellydance.
Always a fan of the indie scene and 'sticking it to the man,' Ms. Stunich decided to take the road less traveled and forgo the traditional publishing route. You can be assured though that she received several rejections as to ensure her proper place in the world of writers before taking up a friend's offer to start a publishing company. Sarian Royal was born, and Ms. Stunich's books slowly transformed from mere baking chocolate to full blown tortes with hand sculpted fondant flowers.
C.M. is a writer obsessed with delivering the very best and scours her mind on a regular basis to select the most unusual stories for the outside world.
Ms. Stunich can be reached via e-mail or by post and loves to hear from her readers. Ms. Stunich also wrote this biography and has no idea why she decided to refer to herself in the third person.

Come visit me at and 
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Giveaway – US Only

1 Grand Prize Winner – Kindle Fire HD 7” with eBook of Tough Luck
1 Winner – Signed Paperback of Tough Luck
1 Winner – Tough Luck Swag Pack

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