Thursday, 25 June 2015

M.S Spencer Guest post.

Please welcome the lovely M. S. Spencer as my Guest for today




An antique train, a mysterious corpse, a bank robbery, a treasure map, and romantic rumblings make for passion and adventure in small town Maine.

Griffin Tate, hero of my new mystery romance the Penhallow Train Incident,  is a retired Middle Eastern history professor and becomes ensnared in the search for a fictional map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb. Now, it’s uncertain whether the Queen of Sheba ever existed, or where the land of Sheba was, but according to the Bible, the Ethiopian Book of Kings, and many legends throughout the Middle East, she came from a nation in the south to meet with King Solomon. She has always intrigued scholars and in the Penhallow Train Incident, she draws  not only Tate, but the lovely Rachel Tinker and a slew of quirky characters into her mystery.

The Penhallow Train Incident
M. S. Spencer
Sweet Cravings Publishing (June 2, 2015)
Romantic Suspense/Mystery, M/F, 2 flames

BUY LINK: http://store.sweetcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=278


BLURB:

In the sleepy coastal Maine town of Penhallow, a  stranger dies on a train, drawing Rachel Tinker, director of the Penhallow Historical Society, and Griffin Tate,  curmudgeonly retired professor, into a spider’s web of archaeological obsession and greed. The victim’s rival confesses that they were both after a map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb, and with his help they set out to find it. Their plans are stymied, however, when a tug of war erupts between the sheriff and a state police detective who want to arrest the same man—one for murder and one for bank robbery. It falls to Rachel to solve both crimes…and two more murders, if she is to unlock the soft heart that beats under Griffin’s hard crust. 

EXCERPT (G): WE MEET GRIFFIN

“Another Geary’s, Rachel?”
“What? Yeah, I guess so. Just to keep you company, Maude.”
“Thanks.” Her companion, a woman of about sixty with close-cropped, iron-gray hair and the beginnings of jowls, gave the word all the sarcasm she had available. The bright brown eyes that reminded Rachel of an intelligent squirrel sought out the waitress. “Hey Katie, can you bring us a couple more?”
The waitress, a compact brunette with a wide grin, brought two bottles over. As she uncapped them, she nodded at the window behind the two women. “Looks like we’re in for a blow.” Rachel and Maude followed her gaze to Penhallow Harbor. The sky to the north held piles of white cloud, cascading down the cliff to hover over the mouth of the river as it flowed into Penobscot Bay.
Rachel stared at them dubiously. “They don’t look all that threatening to me.”
Katie shrugged. “Ask Griffin. He considers himself our resident weather expert.” All three shifted to stare at the tall man seated at the bar, his back to them. The cap, flannel shirt, and worn trousers with suspenders should have signaled an old salt, grizzled and wrinkled, but they knew better. Griffin was only about fifty, but he liked to pretend he was time-worn and crusty. It rarely worked. Any vulnerable woman who took note of his strong chin, deep blue eyes, and thickly curling, salt-and-pepper hair, would immediately recognize a sexy man with depths of feeling only a special strategy could penetrate. Add to that a barrel chest, long-fingered hands, and shapely legs, and you had what Maude described as a latter-day Prince Valiant—“Only without that stupid hairdo.”
Griffin twisted on his stool. “Cumulus. Five thousand feet. They’ll pass out to the bay.”
Katie shook her head, but Rachel noticed a gleam in her eye. “No sirree, those are storm clouds. You folks from away can’t read ‘em like we do. See that gray mass over there by Young’s?”
“Huh.” He peered at it, his eyebrows wiggling. “Most likely smog.”
“Smog! That’s ridiculous. How could we have smog in Maine?”
“Wood fires.” The man turned back to the bar.
Maude rolled her eyes. “Griffin gets less verbose every day.”
Rachel demurred. “To be fair, he’s never been much for words.”
“True. Hardly said two or three since he arrived in Penhallow…how long ago? Two years? Wait, wasn’t that just about the time you moved here?” She winked. “You sure there was nothing going on between you two down at Queenstown University?”
Her companion glared at her. “I told you before. I didn’t know him then. He was a professor of Middle Eastern history at the Institute and I was a lowly instructor in Anthropology in the college. Paths like ours never crossed.”
“Institute?”
“Institute of Higher Learning.” She raised her voice. “It’s a glorified think tank for the most eminent scientists and academicians. Gives ‘em an excuse to laze around dreaming up inoperable systems and unworkable theories to gum up our lives.”
“Whoa, somebody has a chip on her shoulder.”
“I can’t help it.” Rachel pondered her former colleague, his head bent over his plate, and whispered, “Griffin was a prick then and he’s a prick now. Too bad he’s so handsome.”
Maude sniggered. “Yeah, too bad.”
The subject of their abuse did not react and after a moment the two women returned to their beers. When Katie arrived with two plates piled with lobster rolls, French fries, and coleslaw, Rachel asked her, “So, have they identified the corpse yet?”
The waitress nodded, her eyes alight. “Yeah—Sheriff Quimby was in this morning. He says the guy was a foreigner—Omar something. I couldn’t possibly pronounce his name. Some kinda Middle Eastern type.”
Maude glanced toward Griffin. “Middle Eastern, huh? Hmm. And he was shot, you say?”
“That’s what the sheriff says. Shot with a .45 caliber—just like the ammunition in Elmer’s and Hank’s guns. Only theirs were blanks. Somebody used real live deadly bullets.”
“Gracious me.” Maude dunked a French fry in ketchup and splashed Tabasco sauce on it. “So how come no one heard the shot?”
Rachel snorted. “Maude, hello? Elmer and Hank were banging away at the same time. Come to think of it, the murderer must have planned it that way.”
“Oh, really. Now you’re Miss Marple. What makes you think it was murder?”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“Suicide? Accident?”
Rachel showed these suggestions the disdain she was sure they deserved.
Katie had remained standing by their booth, ignoring the increasingly desperate signals from the two tourists at the next table. “Say, Rachel, weren’t you taking tickets for the excursion on Saturday? You must have seen the victim. What did he look like?”
Before Rachel could answer, they heard an angry growl from the bar. “God damn it, can’t a man eat his lunch in peace? God damn ghouls around here.” Griffin scratched his stubbly chin and pointed a fretful finger at the women. “You’d think no one had ever been killed before, the way you people go on and on.”
Rachel, enchanted by the way his eyes shimmered in the sunlight, didn’t respond. Maude snapped, “Professor Tate, just because you’re an old roué doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a little mystery. Not much happens in Penhallow after all. We’re entitled to some excitement.”
Griffin bristled at her. “A man is dead, Maude. This isn’t a movie.”
“Well,” she bristled back, “At least he was from away.”
Griffin gave her a long, hard look and, before turning back to his plate, muttered, “Like me.”
For some reason his words struck hard at Rachel’s heart. She couldn’t see his face, and knew it wouldn’t show the hurt anyway, but she could feel it from across the room. To a Mainer, anyone who couldn’t trace his Maine lineage back to at least the French and Indian War was considered “from away.”


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five continents, the last 30 years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

CONTACTS:

Blog: http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com OR
http://bit.ly/1aBzraT
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencerromance
Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
GoodReads:http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/
About.me: http://about.me/msspencerauthor
Tsu.co : http://www.tsu.co/msspencerauthor
Linked in: www.linkedin.com/in/msspencerauthor

AUTHOR PAGES:

Secret Cravings Publishing: http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=products_all&filter_author=56
Romance Books 4 Us: http://romancebooks4us.com/Romance%20Author%20M.%20S.%20Spencer.html OR
http://bit.ly/1d6ehza
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/M.S.-Spencer/e/B002ZOEUC8/

OTHER BOOKS BY M. S. SPENCER

Romantic suspense and mystery, they are available in ebook and print from Secret Cravings Publishing and all fine on-line book stores. For more information, visit http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com/p/my-books.html


Whirlwind Romance
The Mason's Mark: Love and Death in the Tower (an Old Town Romance)
Lapses of Memory
Mai Tais & Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine (a Sarasota Romance)
Artful Dodging: The Torpedo Factory Murders (an Old Town Romance)
Triptych
Losers Keepers


An antique train, a mysterious corpse, a bank robbery, a treasure map, and romantic rumblings make for passion and adventure in small town Maine.

Griffin Tate, hero of my new mystery romance the Penhallow Train Incident,  is a retired Middle Eastern history professor and becomes ensnared in the search for a fictional map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb. Now, it’s uncertain whether the Queen of Sheba ever existed, or where the land of Sheba was, but according to the Bible, the Ethiopian Book of Kings, and many legends throughout the Middle East, she came from a nation in the south to meet with King Solomon. She has always intrigued scholars and in the Penhallow Train Incident, she draws  not only Tate, but the lovely Rachel Tinker and a slew of quirky characters into her mystery.

M. S. Spencer
Sweet Cravings Publishing (June 2, 2015)
Romantic Suspense/Mystery, M/F, 2 flames



BLURB:

In the sleepy coastal Maine town of Penhallow, a  stranger dies on a train, drawing Rachel Tinker, director of the Penhallow Historical Society, and Griffin Tate,  curmudgeonly retired professor, into a spider’s web of archaeological obsession and greed. The victim’s rival confesses that they were both after a map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb, and with his help they set out to find it. Their plans are stymied, however, when a tug of war erupts between the sheriff and a state police detective who want to arrest the same man—one for murder and one for bank robbery. It falls to Rachel to solve both crimes…and two more murders, if she is to unlock the soft heart that beats under Griffin’s hard crust.

EXCERPT (G): WE MEET GRIFFIN

“Another Geary’s, Rachel?”
“What? Yeah, I guess so. Just to keep you company, Maude.”
“Thanks.” Her companion, a woman of about sixty with close-cropped, iron-gray hair and the beginnings of jowls, gave the word all the sarcasm she had available. The bright brown eyes that reminded Rachel of an intelligent squirrel sought out the waitress. “Hey Katie, can you bring us a couple more?”
The waitress, a compact brunette with a wide grin, brought two bottles over. As she uncapped them, she nodded at the window behind the two women. “Looks like we’re in for a blow.” Rachel and Maude followed her gaze to Penhallow Harbor. The sky to the north held piles of white cloud, cascading down the cliff to hover over the mouth of the river as it flowed into Penobscot Bay.
Rachel stared at them dubiously. “They don’t look all that threatening to me.”
Katie shrugged. “Ask Griffin. He considers himself our resident weather expert.” All three shifted to stare at the tall man seated at the bar, his back to them. The cap, flannel shirt, and worn trousers with suspenders should have signaled an old salt, grizzled and wrinkled, but they knew better. Griffin was only about fifty, but he liked to pretend he was time-worn and crusty. It rarely worked. Any vulnerable woman who took note of his strong chin, deep blue eyes, and thickly curling, salt-and-pepper hair, would immediately recognize a sexy man with depths of feeling only a special strategy could penetrate. Add to that a barrel chest, long-fingered hands, and shapely legs, and you had what Maude described as a latter-day Prince Valiant—“Only without that stupid hairdo.”
Griffin twisted on his stool. “Cumulus. Five thousand feet. They’ll pass out to the bay.”
Katie shook her head, but Rachel noticed a gleam in her eye. “No sirree, those are storm clouds. You folks from away can’t read ‘em like we do. See that gray mass over there by Young’s?”
“Huh.” He peered at it, his eyebrows wiggling. “Most likely smog.”
“Smog! That’s ridiculous. How could we have smog in Maine?”
“Wood fires.” The man turned back to the bar.
Maude rolled her eyes. “Griffin gets less verbose every day.”
Rachel demurred. “To be fair, he’s never been much for words.”
“True. Hardly said two or three since he arrived in Penhallow…how long ago? Two years? Wait, wasn’t that just about the time you moved here?” She winked. “You sure there was nothing going on between you two down at Queenstown University?”
Her companion glared at her. “I told you before. I didn’t know him then. He was a professor of Middle Eastern history at the Institute and I was a lowly instructor in Anthropology in the college. Paths like ours never crossed.”
“Institute?”
“Institute of Higher Learning.” She raised her voice. “It’s a glorified think tank for the most eminent scientists and academicians. Gives ‘em an excuse to laze around dreaming up inoperable systems and unworkable theories to gum up our lives.”
“Whoa, somebody has a chip on her shoulder.”
“I can’t help it.” Rachel pondered her former colleague, his head bent over his plate, and whispered, “Griffin was a prick then and he’s a prick now. Too bad he’s so handsome.”
Maude sniggered. “Yeah, too bad.”
The subject of their abuse did not react and after a moment the two women returned to their beers. When Katie arrived with two plates piled with lobster rolls, French fries, and coleslaw, Rachel asked her, “So, have they identified the corpse yet?”
The waitress nodded, her eyes alight. “Yeah—Sheriff Quimby was in this morning. He says the guy was a foreigner—Omar something. I couldn’t possibly pronounce his name. Some kinda Middle Eastern type.”
Maude glanced toward Griffin. “Middle Eastern, huh? Hmm. And he was shot, you say?”
“That’s what the sheriff says. Shot with a .45 caliber—just like the ammunition in Elmer’s and Hank’s guns. Only theirs were blanks. Somebody used real live deadly bullets.”
“Gracious me.” Maude dunked a French fry in ketchup and splashed Tabasco sauce on it. “So how come no one heard the shot?”
Rachel snorted. “Maude, hello? Elmer and Hank were banging away at the same time. Come to think of it, the murderer must have planned it that way.”
“Oh, really. Now you’re Miss Marple. What makes you think it was murder?”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“Suicide? Accident?”
Rachel showed these suggestions the disdain she was sure they deserved.
Katie had remained standing by their booth, ignoring the increasingly desperate signals from the two tourists at the next table. “Say, Rachel, weren’t you taking tickets for the excursion on Saturday? You must have seen the victim. What did he look like?”
Before Rachel could answer, they heard an angry growl from the bar. “God damn it, can’t a man eat his lunch in peace? God damn ghouls around here.” Griffin scratched his stubbly chin and pointed a fretful finger at the women. “You’d think no one had ever been killed before, the way you people go on and on.”
Rachel, enchanted by the way his eyes shimmered in the sunlight, didn’t respond. Maude snapped, “Professor Tate, just because you’re an old roué doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a little mystery. Not much happens in Penhallow after all. We’re entitled to some excitement.”
Griffin bristled at her. “A man is dead, Maude. This isn’t a movie.”
“Well,” she bristled back, “At least he was from away.”
Griffin gave her a long, hard look and, before turning back to his plate, muttered, “Like me.”
For some reason his words struck hard at Rachel’s heart. She couldn’t see his face, and knew it wouldn’t show the hurt anyway, but she could feel it from across the room. To a Mainer, anyone who couldn’t trace his Maine lineage back to at least the French and Indian War was considered “from away.”


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five continents, the last 30 years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

CONTACTS:


AUTHOR PAGES:

Amazon Author Page:

OTHER BOOKS BY M. S. SPENCER

Romantic suspense and mystery, they are available in ebook and print from Secret Cravings Publishing and all fine on-line book stores. For more information, visit http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com/p/my-books.html




Sunday, 21 June 2015

Peace Of Mind

Peace of mind means to be free of negative emotions. How many of us can say that this is a perception they have often.
It’s a sentiment and emotion that is very hard to sustain and believe in. It’s how we perceive to see a world around us, within us.

Everyone’s basic desire is to be loved.

Society dictates a state of feeling that’s not always congenial to a way of life; a life that is by right ours to live in whichever way makes us happy.
If you don’t like your life, then change it…seems quite simple in words but reality tells a truly different story as probably most people assist to.

Commitments?

Thinking of others around us?

The upheaval of a life which, quite often gives us a security we all seem to need, can be so very hard to attain.
The bravest people in the world are those that make that change, they peek out from the curtain they're hiding behind and face the world full on.

Does that give us peace of mind?

We will only know if we take that leap!




Wednesday, 10 June 2015

Dilys J Carnie Romance Author www.dilysjcarnie.com : Nikki Belaire

Dilys J Carnie Romance Author www.dilysjcarnie.com : Nikki Belaire: Please welcome the very lovely, talented writer Nikki Belaire to my blog today. Wine & Whiskey by Nikki Belaire N...

Nikki Belaire



Please welcome the very lovely, talented writer Nikki Belaire to my blog today.

Wine & Whiskey by Nikki Belaire


Nick DeMarco
A wealthy financier with alleged ties to organized crime. He's arrogant, stubborn, and obsessed with the quiet,gentle woman who may not be as delicate as she seems.



Shae Armstrong
A sheltered pop star living a life created by others. She's bold on stage, yet guarded when the lights fade.
.
 Blurb
No longer controlled by her mother, manager, or former fiancé, pop star Shae Armstrong steps out on her own and into the path of Nick DeMarco, a wealthy investor with alleged ties to organized crime and real childhood scars to overcome. She wants to take it slow. He needs her now, in his life and in his bed.


Nicks enemies threaten her career, her friendships, even her sanity, but not her heart - the one thing Nick holds precious. He proves his love is real, and she stops running. Until everything around them falls apart, including him. He swore he would never hurt her. Instead, he almost destroys them both.


Buoyed by her new-found confidence and strength his love instills in her, Shae makes a dangerous choice, sacrificing her happiness for his, just like he always does for her. Unable to let her break the connection between them, Nick accepts the trust she places in him, the depth of her love giving him the courage to try again.


Now that she’s found her own voice and helped him see who he really is, can Shae survive the challenges of living in Nick’s world?


Nikki Belaire Biography
Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for alpha males and bad boys, especially ones who can’t live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters’ lives than her own. But, when she’s in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter.


The first book of Nikki’s Surviving Absolution series is Wine & Whiskey, which launched through Secret Cravings Publishing. Heat level: three flames


Social Media Links nikkibelaire.com facebook.com/nikkibelaire


Buy Links
Secret Cravings Publishing
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Bookstrand


Excerpt 1
When the jet begins its descent, Shae turns from the window and looks at him. “Now are you going to tell me where we are?”




Nick holds up his finger. “Patience. I said when we land.”


His breath catches as she rolls her eyes and laughs, soft and silky, warming him in the cool cabin. He didn’t think it was possible for her to be more beautiful than she already is. Her face flushes and eyes sparkle with excitement, matching the hint of
glitter across her bare shoulders, completely exposed with her hair in loose curls behind her head. He would take a beating just to taste the soft, sweet skin at the base of her neck.


At the bump of the landing gear rolling across the runway she looks back at him again. “We’ve landed. Tell me!”


Were slightly northeast of wine country. I read an article in one of the business journals about a man from Indiana re-opening his grandfather’s winery. I thought we could check it out before he launches.”


“Oh, I love it. I can’t wait.”


Once the pilots open the door and disembark, Max and the two security men accompanying them file out. She starts to stand up, but he puts his hand on her arm. Loath to rouse any uncertainty, he attempts a casual tone. “Just a minute, sweetness. Let Max take care of things first.”


Two black SUVs sit on the tarmac with a young woman wearing a navy blazer standing next to them. Max talks to her as the other two men open the doors and inspect the interiors. A slight frown darkens Shae’s angelic face, and his stomach clenches at her anxiety.


“Is everything okay?


Its just a precaution. I don’t want anything to ruin our day.”


Her lips curl into a smile and she squeezes his hand, releasing some of his tension. “Nothing will.”


After the inspection is complete, Max signs the woman’s clipboard and takes the keys from her. Nick pulls Shae up from her seat and leads her down the steps. “Let’s go.”


They drive along the countryside with Max and his team following behind. Tall trees border farm fields, separating them by owner or crop. A few stray clouds float above the distant mountains, no barrier to the abundant sunshine.


Resting her head against the seat, she turns to him. “How did you arrange for us to have such beautiful weather?”
Im good at charming angels.”


She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re still as slick as the day I met you.”


He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses each knuckle. Somehow,  she saw past his arrogance and gave him a chance. And somehow, he’s lucky to earn more even when he fucks up. “You’re still as beautiful.”


“What am I going to do with you?” “Love me.”


Excerpt 2 (Adult)
Pinkness tints her cheeks as she tilts her head, tucking a strand of hair behind
her ear. Her sudden shyness intoxicates him, a heady combination of adorable and sexy, making her pleasure his only goal. He slips his hands under her negligee, lifting it off and tossing it aside. The pressure in his groin almost erupts at
her pink nipples straining taut against his chest.


his chin, studying his face, scanning his features as if searching for something beyond the surface. He freezes under her gaze. She delves deeper than any other woman, almost farther than he can endure, fearful she’ll pierce the mask hiding the real him. And, despise what she finds underneath. His voice chokes in his throat. “What?”


A soft smile graces her angelic face. “Has anyone ever told you how wonderful you are?”


No. Because no one’s ever thought it but her.


Her mouth finds his. Chaste kisses, smiling against his lips. “And romantic.” Pressing softly, barely touching. “Thoughtful.” Driving him to the edge as he resists every urge to devour her. “Sexy.”


Just when he can’t hold back any longer, she thrusts her tongue inside, making him moan as his fingers slide across her cheeks and into her hair, absorbing all of her sweet essence. Fighting to control his desire, he breaks away, dipping
his head and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub, keeping her in place as her back arches. She drives her hands through his hair, wrapping her fingers around the burgeoning curls on his neck he hates, her breathy whisper like fireworks against his skin. “These are perfect to hold on to when you make love to me.”


Okay, maybe they aren’t so bad. She lifts up from straddling him as he grasps the waistband of her panties. Her fingertips burn his skin in their urgency to help him push them down. In her raised position, he teases her wet core, stroking the soft folds before plunging a finger inside. She gasps, her legs
trembling, and begins to lower herself back down. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he holds her up as she rests her head on his shoulder. His body flames
with need at her lips on his ear. “Your fingers are magic.”




As she whispers his name, her hands move to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them as he lifts up to free himself from the fabric separating them. He reaches
into his pocket and pulls out a foil packet before kicking his pants all the way off. Her eyes never waver from his as he guides her hips over his throbbing tip. She slides down his length, her lips parting in a sharp gasp, her small fist wrapping around his shirt. Pain grips his chest at her hesitation. “Are you okay?”


A slow smile curls her lips as she nods. “I’ve never been on top. You’re a lot to take in at once.”


“I don’t want to hurt you.” “I’m fine.”
Coiling her arms around his neck, she slowly raises and lowers her body, letting him stretch and fill her, building tension in him begging to be released. Silky perfection moving under his fingertips. All he can see is her. Nothing else
exists. No barriers between them. Only her sweetness surrounding him, flowing over him like the purest honey. “Do you know how much I love you?”


She nods, her eyes heavy with desire, locking with his. God, she’s so beautiful. “How right this is?”


Her head dips again, her gaze boring into his, humbling him with the enormity of her love.


“How I'm never letting you go?”


Her pace quickens at his words. Their bodies’ slick with sweat, skin sliding against skin as she accepts him completely. He grasps her hips, grinding into
her while helping her ride him faster and deeper. The rhythm of his hard thrusts


matches her racing heart against his chest, her muscles pulsing and tightening around him. “Nick, I

He can’t hold back, and he’s taking her with him. “Tell me, sweetness.”


Playlist
Hold On, We’re Going Home - Drake
Demons - Imagine Dragons
The Heart Wants What it Wants - Selena Gomez
Say Something - Great Big World
Stay - Rihanna
I Could Not Ask for More - Edwin McCain
Let Her Go - Passenger Adore You - Miley Cyrus Clarity - Zedd
Here Without You - Three Doors Down
Far Away - Nickelback