Sydney Storm Mc #4
By Nina Levine
Release Date 20, June 2017
The Sydney Storm MC are back and war is coming.
Monroe Lee is a handful.
She fights me, challenges me and tries to resist me.
Where I'm jagged, she's smooth.
Where I'm dark, she's pure.
Where I'm broken, she's whole.
I am not a good man.
I've hurt everyone I've ever loved.
I should walk away before I ruin her too.
But fuck, we are fire together.
And I've been out in the cold too long.
At a time when everything is falling down around me, she might just be my saviour.
This story contains all the panty-melting sexiness and alpha goodness that Nina Levine books are known for.
This series is best read in order
I tore my attention from Hyde and gave it back to Tatum when she said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Hyde’s presence had pretty much wiped all coherent thought from my mind, so I simply nodded and murmured, “Okay.”
As she and Nitro walked away from us, Hyde moved closer. His scent almost hypnotised me, if that was even possible. Looking down at me, he said, “What are you drinking?” The husky tone of his voice was like the final nail in my coffin. He could lead me down the path to sin with that voice.
“A Cosmo please.”
He turned to the waiting bartender and ordered drinks before shifting his gaze back to me. His body was so damn close it almost pressed against mine. His eyes dropped to my chest. “You weren’t made to be subtle, were you, sugar?”
“Can’t say that word’s in my vocabulary, no.” The way he was devouring my body told me I’d made the best decision when I bought the black dress I wore tonight. Knee length with a plunging neckline and accentuated with a belt around my waist, it clung to every curve I had. My girls were up and proudly out, just the way I liked them. I mean, if you had it, flaunt it, right? And I’d had the red in my hair touched up that afternoon. It hung in lazy vivid red curls to just below my breasts. I wasn’t sure which part of me he thought wasn’t subtle, but I guessed it had something to do with my dress by the way he seemed unable to draw his gaze from my body.
Finally he found his way back up to my face. The heat flashing in his eyes shot a round of lust through my veins. Good God, this man, though. I wondered if he had any idea of the storm he caused within me. “Don’t ever add it.” If what he said didn’t make my legs sway a little, the forceful, gravelly way he said it did.
The bartender placed our drinks on the counter, distracting us from each other. Hyde dropped some cash on the bar, took a mouthful of his whisky and looked back at me while I got down as much of my drink as I could in one mouthful. God knew, I needed it. I could stand my ground with any man, but Hyde had a way of catching me off guard.
“You calm down after that thing about owing me money this morning?” And there he went, flipping my feelings about him on their head.
I fixed him with a look that let him know I wasn’t impressed. “I didn’t have anything to calm down from.”
“You seemed all worked up about it.”
I threw some more of my cocktail down my throat. “I wasn’t.” But I was getting there now, that was for sure.
He drank some more whisky, keeping his eyes steady on mine. “Okay.”
Okay? Oh no he didn’t. He didn’t get to end a conversation with that bullshit. “Okay? Seriously, you’re going to end with that?”
“It seemed pointless to argue.”
I finished my drink and placed the empty glass down with some force. Sliding off my stool, I said, “We weren’t arguing. I was simply telling you like it was.”
“Yeah, I’ve picked that up about you.”
My eyes practically popped out of their sockets. “Picked up what about me?”
“That you like to tell men like it is.”
“I do not! You just have this way of pushing my buttons. I feel like it’s you, not me.”
His lips twitched. “Sugar, if I knew which buttons I was pushing, I’d push them some more. I never said I didn’t like the way you told me how it was.”
I snatched my bag off the bar. I needed a moment to get my thoughts under control. In the space of seconds I’d switched from wanting him to wanting to smack him to wanting him again. My mind needed a break from the whiplash. I took a step away from the bar and said, “I’ll have another Cosmo.”
Without waiting for his response, I headed in the direction of the ladies room. I’d almost made it there when a hand slid around my waist and I was pushed up against the wall in the dark hallway. A hard body pushed against mine as the hand around my waist slid down to settle on my ass and warm breath whispered across my cheek. “My cock likes that attitude of yours. Surprised the fuck outta me, but I can’t deny I want more of it.”
The proof of his statement ground against me, sparking need all over me. Every inch of my skin blazed with desire. I gripped his shirt with both hands and found his eyes. “You and I weren’t made for each other, Hyde.”
“I’m not saying we were.”
My body went to war with my mind. It fought me kicking and screaming, desperate for what he was offering, but I didn’t want to surrender. “So what’s the point of starting something?”
He pushed his cock harder against me. “I came here against better judgement tonight. Nitro told me you’d be here and I came because I couldn’t, for the fucking life of me, get you out of my head. I want my hands on those curves of yours and my dick as far inside you as you can take it.”
CATCH UP ON THE SYDNEY STORM MC SERIES! THE FIRST BOOK, RELENT, IS CURRENTLY FREE
Book One in the new Sydney Storm MC series.
A biker torn between loyalty to his club and love for his woman.
I let Evie Bishop go once. I won’t make that mistake again.
I’ve loved Evie since we were kids, before I found the Storm MC.
Long before I sold my soul to the devil.
I never wanted to bring her into this world, but a man can only go so long without the woman he loves by his side. I need her like I fucking need air and I won’t stop until she’s mine again.
I knew she’d battle me.
I knew I’d have to fight hard for her.
But I never thought I’d be in this predicament—torn between her and my club.
The thing about me, though, is that I’ll do anything for those I love. Even if it could cost me everything.
Standalone Motorcycle Club Romance
This spin-off series can be read without reading the original Storm MC Series.
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About The Author
Gypsy at heart.
USA Today Bestselling author who writes about alpha men & the women they love.
When I’m not creating with words you will find me planning my next getaway, visiting somewhere new in the world, having a long conversation over coffee and cake with a friend, creating with paper or curled up with a good book and chocolate.
I’ve been writing since I was twelve. Weaving words together has always been a form of therapy for me especially during my harder times. These days I’m proud that my words help others just as much as they help me.
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Sin City Outlaws Book 3
By M.N. Forgy is
Release Date April 24, 2017
Being the Vice President of the Sin City Outlaws Motorcycle Club comes with its perks.
Respect, power, and easy women whenever I want. I have control in everything I do.
Because of that, I wasn’t expecting my president to put me on babysitting duty, and on a female cop of all fucking people. I kill law enforcement, not protect them.
Alessandra pretends to be the good-guy hiding behind that shiny badge. But I see the darkness dancing in her eyes, and it draws me to her in the worst way. I want to devour that act of innocence, pull her over the line of justice, and into my bed.
I just wasn’t expecting the handful of secrets I got behind that badge of honor I ripped from her chest. Because now, we’re retaliating against a common enemy together.
“So, you came here to what, let loose?” I ask suggestively, lust hanging from the tip of my tongue.
She looks up through hooded eyes, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
Taking a small step, I invade her space. Using my finger, I tuck it firmly under her chin making her look me in the eyes. God, she’s so fucking soft to touch, my hands itch to take advantage of her body and soul. That’s what I do, I devour innocent women, and scar their souls to the point they’re damaged goods.
“Were you going to fuck one of my men tonight, Alessandra?” I ask hastily.
Her throat bobs as she swallows, fire igniting her eyes as she pulls away. She’s a pistol and not the kind you love and shine every day with care. More like the kind you’re scared to use because it may backfire on you at any minute.
“So what if I was? Why do you care?” She raises a challenging brow, her voice sharp. A burning sensation combusts in my chest thinking about her riding one of my guy’s dicks.
“I forbid you to open your legs to any of my brothers, do you understand?” My rash decision comes from an unknown place. An insatiable hunger beading at the tip of my dick.
Her jaw drops, and her hands curl into fists.
“Who do you think you are to dictate who I screw?” she scowls.
My temples pound with annoyance and anger, done with this back and forth.
Leaning down my lips a hair’s length away from her face, I intimidate her to the point she looks away and purses her lips.
“Maybe you didn’t get the memo, Blue Bird, but now that Zeek is playing daddy… I run this fucking city. Therefore, I say who you fuck, and don’t fuck.”
Her chocolate eyes snap to mine, and I know I have her full attention. Which I want, I want her to look at me, to really see me. All of me.
About The Author
M.N. Forgy was raised in Missouri where she still lives with her family. She's a soccer mom by day and a saucy writer by night. M.N. Forgy started writing at a young age but never took it seriously until years later, as a stay-at-home mom, she opened her laptop and started writing again. As a role model for her children, she felt she couldn't live with the "what if" anymore and finally took a chance on her character's story. So, with her glass of wine in hand and a stray Barbie sharing her seat, she continues to create and please her fans.
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Men of Inked Book 7
By Chelle Bliss
Release Date May 9, 2017
James Caldo needs to control everything in his life, even his wife, Izzy Gallo. But she’s headstrong and has a need to test her husband’s limits as much as he pushes hers.
When a case at ALFA Private Investigation takes a dark turn, James is forced to get Izzy involved in an undercover sting, and the assignment will test her sexual boundaries as well as the very foundation of their relationship.
Can Izzy hold her tongue long enough to keep them both safe? Or will her unwillingness to fully submit draw the eye of the very man they’re after?
“Izzy, please. Be reasonable.”
I loved when James begged. “Say it again,” I taunted him.
What the fuck with the be reasonable comment? I’m always reasonable. Okay, maybe that isn’t entirely true. I usually shoot from the hip and save the apologies for later. My big mouth has gotten me into more trouble over the years, and much of it I try to forget, especially when it comes to James.
He arched an eyebrow, and the same shitty smirk that I’d grown accustomed to flashed across his lips. “I could make you say yes.”
“Doubtful.” I glared at him, feeling supercocky even though I was in no position to be.
James, my loving husband of over ten years, decided that tonight was a good time to tie me to the bed. I should’ve known he was up to no good because it’d been more than a little bit since he’d used restraints during sex. I figured we were just getting our kink on and that he wanted to try something new, but nope, the bastard knew I wouldn’t like what he was asking and made sure I didn’t have an out.
“Baby,” he whispered, running his thumbs across my bottom lip and trying to seduce me. “You know you can’t say no to me. Never have and never will.”
There were very few people in this world that could make me do anything, but James had a power over me since the first night I met him. Saying no to him had always been damn near impossible, and I almost hated myself because of it.
I never wanted to be that girl—the one who caved to anything her husband asked. Never in my life had I wanted to be her, an easy mark and a carpet for her husband to walk all over, but things don’t always turn out the way we plan. I learned that the hard way.
James wasn’t even on my radar until the night of Joe and Suzy’s wedding when he sauntered in with his good looks and charm. The arrogant bastard seemed to work me like he’d known me my entire life, and I fell for it.
I thought I’d won when I snuck out. I figured I’d never see him again, so what did it matter. Boy, was I wrong.
“I’ve said no to you plenty of times.” I refused to let him use his sexual prowess, which I’d done in the past, but sometimes I had to dig my heels in and find my inner bitch.
I pulled at the restraints and tried to break free, but it was useless. The man could tie the most wicked knots, and it had been years since I’d been able to wiggle out of them. Every time I escaped, he’d learn a new technique until he found just the right one to render me helpless.
His lips scorched a path down my neck, and my back arched as if begging for his touch. “Say yes, Izzy.”
I stifled the moan that formed low in my throat, but I squeaked instead when he sucked my nipple into his mouth. My body rocked on its own, moving toward him instinctively, wanting the bite of his teeth. His hand slid down my front, cupping my pussy, not hard enough to give me pleasure, only the sweet torment that he reveled in.
“Say yes, and I’ll give you what you want.”
He was playing with me. James was a master manipulator. I didn’t know if it was his background with the DEA or just something he was born with, but he used it perfectly when it suited his purpose.
I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth together. “No.”
He pulled my panties to the side before dipping two fingers inside me with the most sinful smile. “Last chance, baby,” he warned.
What was he going to do to me if I didn’t give in? The thought passed through my mind, but I pushed it away. I was lost in the feel of his hands on my skin and the ache between my legs, but my resistance held. “No,” I bit out.
Don't forget to catch up with the Men of Inked series today and be ready for Worship Me on May 9th!
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About The Author
Chelle Bliss is the USA Today bestselling author of the Men of Inked and ALFA P.I. series. She hails from the Midwest, but currently lives near the beach even though she hates sand. She's a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, coffee fiend, and ex high school history teacher. She loves spending time with her two cats, alpha boyfriend, and chatting with readers. To learn more about Chelle, please visit chellebliss.com.
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The Boudreaux Series #5
By Kristen Proby
Release Date: April 4, 2017
The Boudreaux Series. Sexy. Intriguing. Easy.
Family. Responsibility. Stability.
As the co-CEO of Bayou Enterprises, and the eldest of the Boudreaux clan, Beau is the epitome of these. Now that his baby sister Gabby is happily settled down, Beau has moved into the company loft in the heart of the French Quarter to be closer to his office while his own home is built. He doesn’t have time for anything but the family he adores and the company that drives him.
If only the bewitching owner of the herb shop downstairs from Beau’s loft wasn’t so damn tempting.
Mallory Adams is living the life. The good life. The best life for her. After years of hiding who she is, and the gifts she’s been cursed with, Mallory opened her little shop in the French Quarter, offering herbs and lotions for anything from soothing a sunburn to chasing those pesky ghosts New Orleans is known for out of a client’s home. Some call her eccentric, and some say she’s simply odd, and that’s okay with her. Sheis a bit odd, but in her experience, all of the best people are.
When an old pipe bursts in the loft above her store, flooding her storeroom, Mallory comes face to face with Beau Boudreaux, and she doesn’t need the clairvoyant abilities that have been passed down through generations to know that she’ll never be the same. Beau is her exact opposite; serious, straitlaced. He wears suits for Pete’s sake and probably wouldn’t know the difference between arnica and flaxseed if his life depended on it. But when he touches her, the electricity is through the roof and she’s smart enough to know that a chemistry like theirs doesn’t happen every day.
Can two people so very different possibly find their way to happily ever after?
“I’ve always had a knack for knowing what people need,” she says softly, as if she’s choosing her words very carefully. I don’t know why that bothers me. I want her to speak her mind, to not have to censor what she says.
But this is a good start.
“In what way?”
“Maybe someone has headaches, or their feet hurt. I have essential oils and herbs that can help with those things.”
“My grandmother taught me all about alternative medicine from the time I was a child. She wasn’t crazy with it,” she says quickly, “she still believed in western medicine as well, but why take a pain reliever full of chemicals if you can just put a drop of oil on the back of your neck to get the same result?”
She shrugs and reaches for the dessert, smiles when she opens the box, and digs in with enthusiasm.
“I thought it would be fun to open a store full of those things,” she continues. “I wanted the bottles to be pretty, and everything to be tied with a bow. I wanted a place where people enjoyed coming in, even if only to browse. It smells good, the energy is calming.”
And I realize that that’s exactly how I feel whenever I’ve been in her store.
“I’d say you’ve accomplished those things.”
“Thank you.” Her smile is huge and genuine. “That’s really the best compliment I could ever get.”
“Really?” I cock a brow and watch her lashes flutter. “I’d also say you’re stunning. I want to bury my fingers in that amazing curly hair of yours.”
There must be something in the food that’s making me speak so freely. But Mallory seems to bring out my flirty side.
I’d forgotten that I had a flirty side.
Her smile slips just a bit, and her cheeks flush, and I know she’d look just like that when I’m buried balls deep inside her.
“That’s very nice of you.”
“But not what you want to hear.”
“Well, don’t get me wrong, every woman wants to be told she’s pretty.”
“I didn’t say pretty,” I reply and lean in, resting my elbows on her desk. “’Pretty’ is too dull of a word to describe you.”
“You’re an interesting man,” she says, tilting her head to the side and studying my face with narrowed violet eyes. “You just say whatever you’re feeling.”
“Not always,” I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear and she stiffens. I pause, keeping my eyes pinned to hers before I slowly brush just the pads of my fingertips over the outline of her ear, tucking that soft curly hair, then lowering my hand back to the desk. “But I see no reason to not be honest with you.”
“I opened this shop because I love it,” she says, her voice still soft but firm. She’s not weak in any way, and that pulls at me like a siren’s song. “I want to help people if I can, even if it’s just to moisturize their hands. And I like this building.”
“There are other streets with more foot traffic.”
“And I like where I am,” she says again. “I do well here.”
“I’m glad you do.” I nod and without giving it much thought, reach out to pull my fingertips over her hand. My eyes are watching hers as I do, and I can see the hesitation just before I touch her, and then the relief when my skin rests on hers.
She doesn’t like to be touched.
“Tell me more,” I say softly.
“That’s all there is about the store.”
“Tell me about you.”
She pulls her hand out from under mine and sits back in her chair. “I think you’d better go, before I tell you more than I want to.”
I cock a brow. “I’m a fan of honesty.”
“Good.” She nods once and begins loading the empty boxes in the trash. “I’m in favor of being honest, and in that same spirit, I’m exhausted, Beau.”
“I know. I am, too.”
But I’m not ready to say goodbye to her yet. I’m afraid that we’ll go our separate ways, and I won’t see her again.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“That I want to see you again.”
“You live upstairs from my shop,” she reminds me. “I don’t see how we could avoid it.”
“We avoided it for a damn long time,” I say and stand, shoving my hands in my pockets. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”
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The Boudreaux Series!
About The Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.
Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.
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Blush For Me
By Kristen Proby
Release Date March 7, 2017
New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby continues to delight the senses with the latest novel in her delectable Fusion series.
As the take-charge wine bar manager of Seduction, Portland's hottest new restaurant, Katrina Meyers is the definition of no-nonsense, and she isn't afraid of anything. Well, almost anything: she hates to fly. When she's forced to travel on a death trap with wings, the turbulence from hell has her reaching for any safe haven—including the incredibly handsome guy sitting next to her.
Ryan "Mac" MacKenzie hasn't been able to get his sexy seatmate out of his head. The way she clung to him stirred something inside him he didn't think existed: tenderness. As the owner of a successful wine touring company, Mac thinks he's got a handle on what life can throw at him and he's not prepared for any surprises, especially in the feelings department. And when he brings a tour into Seduction, he sees the petite spitfire he just can't forget.
Mac is determined to discover what else they have in common besides fine wine and the inability to keep their hands off each other. But what will it take for two stubborn people to realize that what they have is so much more than a hot chemistry between the sheets and to admit to falling in love…?
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Time flies when you’re having fun. It’s an old cliché, but I never realized just how true it is until this week. It’s flown by, touring vineyards and sitting in on classes during the day, and going to bed with Mac every night.
The man can fuck like nobody’s business, bless him.
But now it’s our last day together. I’m not silly enough to think that we’ve fallen in love this week. I won’t pine for him after we leave here like a lovesick teenager.
But I will remember him fondly, and the amazing week we spent together in wine country. I guess it is rather romantic, even though a sexcation is anything but romantic.
“We’re here,” Mac whispers in my ear as the bus pulls up to our final vineyard for the week.
“Where were you just now?” he asks and drags his hand up and down my thigh. He makes me want to purr. The things this man can do with his hands should come with a warning label.
“I’m right here,” I reply.
“No, you were somewhere far away,” he murmurs.
"Just thinking about all the things I have to do when I get home,” I lie easily with a smile as we all file off the bus.
I’m not drinking much today. I’ve been beyond tipsy every day by the time we made our way back to the hotel, and while it’s been fun, I’m feeling the effects of too much alcohol.
I may not be over the crazy sex with Mac, but I’m quite over the wine, and that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say in my life.
“You’re far away again,” Mac says, smiling down at me and holding a wine glass out for me to take.
“Sorry.” I shrug. “It’s been an eventful week.”
His green eyes flare in lust. “Indeed it has.”
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About The Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.
Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.
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By K. Bromberg
Release Date 28 February 2017
Ryder Rodgers had a plan.
He was going to stride into the conference room, do the required song and dance over the next five days, and win the biggest contract of his career. But when he walked in and heard the voice of one of his competitors, all his plans were shot to hell.
Harper Denton. She was always on top. In college. First in their class. Always using every advantage to edge him out to win the coveted positions. The only one who could beat him. His academic rival. More like a constant thorn in his side. And his ego’s.
When he heard her voice, he was brought back to years before. To the bitter taste of being second best. But the woman who meets his gaze is nothing like the drab wallflower he used to know. Hell no. She was all woman now: curves, confidence, and staggering sex appeal. And no doubt, still brilliant.
The fact that she’s gorgeous and bright won’t distract him. This time, Ryder’s determined to be the one on top. But not if Harper can help it.
He takes a step toward me then hesitates, but before I can process anything else, his lips are on mine.
And not just on mine––not just a brush of lips against lips—but I’m talking all in. Hands on my cheeks, tongue licking between my lips, body pressed against mine, groan in the back of his throat, type of all in.
I don’t react at first. I’m stunned. Flabbergasted, my mind reeling from the anger to the surprise to now this without any warning at all.
This is Ryder.
The thoughts flicker that this is what I’ve wanted. But they soon shift to panic. To insecurity I don’t kiss well enough. That this is all a joke and I’m the butt of it.
But then I feel. Everything. All at once.
And I know this is real.
It’s like I can’t catch my breath and have too much air all at the same time.
My body is on fire. And not just from his touch but from that burn deep inside that feels like it’s exploding and imploding all at once.
So this is what it feels like to really be kissed.
It’s a fleeting thought before the sensations, the moment, the emotions, consume me whole.
His hands move my face to change the angle of the kiss. His fingertips on the line of my jaw singe my skin. His lips move expertly against mine, and all I can do is feel. All I can do is want.
Thinking isn’t an option.
The anger from before has morphed to want. The adrenaline has recharged with desire.
There is no rivalry.
There is no graduation ceremony tomorrow I’m missing to catch my flight.
There is no panic over if I’ll ever see him again.
It’s just him.
The scent of his cologne in my nose. The heat of his body against mine. The taste of hunger in his kiss.
About The Author
New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines, and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.
She’s a mixture of most of her female characters: sassy, intelligent, stubborn, reserved, outgoing, driven, emotional, strong, and wears her heart on her sleeve. All of which she displays daily with her husband and three children where they live in Southern California.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Since then she has written The Driven Series (Driven, Fueled, Crashed, Raced, Aced), the standalone Driven Novels (Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, Hard Beat, and Down Shift), and a novella (UnRaveled). She is currently finishing up Sweet Cheeks a standalone novel out November 14th.
Her plans for 2017 include a sports romance duet (2 books: The Player, The Catch) and the Everyday Heroes series (3 books: Cuffed, Combust, and Cockpit). She’s also writing a novella for the 1,001 Dark Night series that will be out in February 2017.
She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media.
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Until Her #3
By Aurora Rose Reynolds
Release Date December 27, 2016
Dillon Keck knew Ashlyn Mayson was drunk when she suggested they get married. He knew he should have taken her back to their hotel room and put her to bed. Instead, he did what he had been craving to do since the moment they met.
Claim her as his.
Waking up married in Vegas isn't something Ashlyn Mayson ever thought would happen to her. Having Dillon, her boss, a man she thinks is a dick, insist they stay married is absurd, but every time he touches her, she gets lost in him and wonders if maybe they are meant to be together.
But someone isn't happy for Dillon and Ashlyn and their new found romance, and they're willing to do anything to keep them apart. Even commit murder.
To every single person that believes in the BOOM
“Hey, Mom,” I greet, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder as I shove another dress and matching heels into my suitcase. I smile while I do, because Dillon will likely flip his lid when he sees my choices in attire for the weekend, but there is not one damn thing he can do about it since we won’t be in the office. So technically, his stupid rules don’t apply.
“Are you all packed?”
“Almost,” I sigh, looking at the clock and realizing I only have ten minutes to finish before my cab is set to arrive. I wasn’t planning on going to Vegas for the dental convention, but Dillon insisted he needed me with him, and like an idiot, I agreed.
“Is Dillon picking you up?”
“No, I’m meeting him there. His flight left a couple hours ago.”
“Oh.” She lets out a defeated breath. “Is it just you and him going?”
“I hope so. I swear if the Wicked Witch shows up, I’ll sell her on the strip to the highest bidder, or pay someone to take her out to the desert and drop her off,” I grumble, digging under my bed for my tickler—just in case of an emergency.
“Call me if you need an alibi.” She laughs, and I smile, shaking my head, because I know she’s not lying; she would find a way to be my alibi if something happened.
“I’ll call,” I mutter, heading to the bathroom so I can gather my shower supplies.
“Dillon’s so nice,” she says quietly, and I grit my teeth.
Dillon is annoying, bossy, and… fine, he can be nice sometimes. Plus, he’s uber-hot, but I hate him. Okay, I don’t hate him… but I really, really want to.
“How long are you going to be gone for?” she questions, breaking into my internal rant.
“Just four days. My flight gets back Monday night around seven.”
“Promise you’ll call everyday and check in.”
“I’ll call or text,” I agree, grabbing my cosmetics case from under the bathroom cupboard, filling it with all of my makeup.
“Please try and have some fun while you’re there. Make Dillon take you out to a nice dinner or dancing.”
Snorting, I mutter, “Sure, Mom. I love you. I’ll message when I land.”
“Okay, honey, and don’t forget your dad and I leave Monday for Florida and we’ll be gone for three weeks.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Have fun, kiss Grandma and Grandpa, and tell Dad I love him.”
“Will do,” she promises softly before I hang up and shove my cell into my back pocket. Looking at the clock I let out a quiet curse, getting my ass in gear to finish packing so I don’t miss my flight.
Dragging my bag behind me toward the reception desk, I’m stunned by how many people are here wearing nametags stating they’re attending the dental convention. Dillon mentioned this weekend is one of the largest gatherings of dentists in the United States, but sheesh, this is crazy. Finally making it to the front of the line, I smile at the cutie behind the desk.
“How can I help you, gorgeous?” he inquires once I’m close, and I set my purse on the counter and pull out my ID, handing it over to him.
“Hi, I have a reservation.” I yawn, covering my mouth while I listen to the sound of slot machines going off in the distance. I love the slots—or penny slots to be exact, since I’m too chicken to play the real ones.
“I’m sorry, but there is no reservation under your name. Are you sure you’re staying with us?” he asks, handing me back my ID, and I frown.
“I’m positive. It may be under my boss’ name, Dillon Keck. He made the reservations,” I say, and he starts to type again then smiles.
“Got it. I see here that Mr. Keck has already checked in and requested we give you your own key to the suite upon arrival.”
“Uh… what?” I blurt, feeling something close to dread fill my stomach. “Are you saying he’s staying in that room too?”
“Yes, it’s a suite with two kings.”
“I don’t care how many kings are in the room. It’s one room. Right?” I panic, leaning half over the counter, trying to see his computer screen. “Please tell me you have another room available?”
“I’m sorry, but we’re completely booked. This is one of our busiest weekends of the year.”
“Of course it is.” I shake my head. “Can you recommend another hotel nearby?”
“Sorry, but I really doubt anywhere else has an opening.”
“Oh man… oh man,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes closed. “It’s not a big deal. You can share a room with him. You’re an adult, and it’s not like you even like him, right?” I whisper, balling my hands into fists.
“Um, so do you want me to get you your key?” Opening my eyes, I nod once and his face softens. “Call down and check. Sometimes we have people call off their reservations last minute. You never know. Something might open up between tonight and tomorrow.”
“Sure, I’ll call,” I agree, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this kind of karma as I wait there for the room key.
Standing in the hall outside the door to our room ten minutes later, I pause with my key card in my hand, not sure if I should knock or just go in. I seriously cannot believe Dillon booked us in a room together. Actually, I can believe it, because I think he gets off on annoying me.
“Screw it. It’s my room too,” I mutter to myself, shoving the key into the card reader, watching the light turn green. Pushing down on the handle, I turn, using my shoulder to hold the door open while I drag my suitcase into the room, fighting with its weight as the door closes, trapping it half way through.
Turning my head, I look over my shoulder and almost fall on my ass when my eyes find Dillon standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, with a pair of boxers in his hand. His once long hair now short and wet, and a tattoo I didn’t know he had along his muscled ribs on his side.
“Oh, my God,” I breathe, turning quickly while attempting to shove my suitcase back out of the room. I totally did not need to know Dillon looks hotter without clothes than what my mind had made up, and believe me—my mind had unfortunately tormented me with thoughts of him naked many times.
“Christ, you’re a mess,” is muttered from behind me while a very strong arm wraps around my waist, lifting me off my feet, and my suitcase is tugged from my grasp. Before I know it, my suitcase and I are both in the room and the door closes with a soft hiss, trapping me inside.
“Please tell me you’re not still naked,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes closed, feeling his arm release me and his heat leave my back.
“I’m not naked.”
Opening my eyes, I close them again when I see he’s only got on a pair of form-fitting black boxers and nothing else. “Put some clothes on.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a naked man before.” He chuckles, and the sound of his laughter makes my teeth grind and my hands drop to my sides.
“I don’t want to see you naked.” I glare at him while he buttons up a pair of dark slacks that fit him perfectly.
“You could have avoided all of this if you had knocked.”
“Really?” I raise a brow. “You could have ‘avoided all this,’” I make air quotes, “and gotten me a separate room.”
“They messed up the reservation.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, and I feel my eyes narrow further.
“You should have called to tell me that, so I could have—”
“You would have avoided coming,” he cuts me off. “If you knew we were sharing a room, you would have found an excuse, and I need you with me this weekend.”
“Whatever,” I grumble, knowing he’s right. I would have canceled the trip if I knew we were sharing a room, even knowing that being here is a great way to build connections with other dentists. Especially, if I want to open my own practice in the future. “We need to set a few ground rules.” I cross my arms over my chest while I watch him walk across the room toward the bed near the window.
“Later.” He picks up a dark-blue, almost black, dress shirt and starts to put it on, which is unfortunate, because now that I’ve seen him shirtless, I’m thinking he should never cover up again.
“No, now,” I growl, annoyed with myself for being attracted to the dick.
“Later.” He holds my glare. “Right now, you need to get dressed. We have reservations in forty minutes.” He takes a seat on the side of the bed and starts to put on his shoes.
“What?” I look at the clock on the wall. It’s after seven at night and I’m exhausted. All I want to do is climb into bed, order room service, and watch some bad TV.
“We have a reservation in forty minutes,” he repeats, then stands. “The restaurant is twenty minutes away, so you have twenty minutes to get ready, unless you want to wear that.” He motions to my sweats, flip-flops, and hoodie. “I suggest you change.”
“I hate you.”
“So you say,” he says, just barely loud enough for me to hear, as he goes to the dresser, picking up his watch and putting it on.
“What did I do to deserve this?” I shake my head, pulling out my hair tie and running my fingers through my knotted hair.
“You may want to hurry.”
Holding his eyes for a minute, I give up my glare then drag my suitcase to the middle of the room and unzip it. After pulling out one of my favorite “going out” outfits along with my makeup bag, I go to the bathroom and try to slam the door closed, but it’s on one of those thingies that prevents me from doing that, which pisses me off even more.
“Stupid door. Stupid dick,” I mutter once the door is closed, then get to work on making myself look halfway decent.
Twenty minutes later, I look at my refection and lean forward, putting my face an inch from the mirror, and use my dark-red lipstick for the final touch on my dramatic makeup look. Since I didn’t have time to do anything with my hair, I brushed it out and put it up in a bun on top of my head then pulled out a few pieces to frame my face. Looking at my now blonde hair, I smile. I wasn’t sure I would like having blonde hair but Kim insisted it would look great on me, and she wasn’t wrong. Standing back, I place my hands on my hips and take myself in. My black sleeveless-top, with triangles cut out of the center of the chest and sides, is sexy but classy, and my red skin-tight pencil skirt, with its slit up the thigh, shows off just enough skin to draw attention while leaving everything to the imagination.
Slipping on my black, pointed-toe, four-inch pumps, I open the door to the bathroom, and mutter toward where I know Dillon is sitting, “Let me just change my purse and we can go.”
“You’re not wearing that.”
“Pardon?” I ask, pausing in my squatted position in front of my open suitcase to look at him.
“You’re not wearing that outfit. Go change.”
“I’m not changing.” I stand, moving to the desk so I can transfer what I need from my bag to my clutch. Hearing no reply, my eyes move to where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and I feel my skin warm up and butterflies take off in my stomach as our eyes lock and his darken.
Licking my lips that have suddenly gone dry, his eyes drop to my mouth and his jaw clenches. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He stands abruptly and moves past me out the room quickly, letting the door close behind him with a swoosh without another word.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask the door, gaining no reply—not that I need one. I know exactly what that was; I just have no idea what to do with it. Dillon has always acted professional with me. There has never been a time that I’ve seen him look at me like he’s interested, but the look in his eyes a moment ago was primal and not one an engaged man should give another woman, or a boss should give his employee, ever.
Shaking off the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, I finish changing out my bag then leave the room and make my way through the casino and into the lobby. Not finding Dillon inside, I head outside to the area the cabs and limos pick up and drop off, and spot him standing with a group of people. I’m not surprised he’s surrounded by a gaggle of women and a couple of men. He tends to draw attention wherever he goes, and it’s something else that annoys me. I hate being the center of attention, and I don’t really like people who need it to feel important. Needing a minute to get my head together, I stop a few feet away and tuck my clutch under my arm.
“Where you going, gorgeous? ‘Cause wherever it is, I’m there,” a drunk guy, who can’t be much older than twenty-one, slurs, stumbling up to me. His clothes are rumpled, his hair in disarray, and if he wasn’t such a mess, he’d be cute. But sadly, sloppy drunk works for no one.
Ignoring him, I untuck my purse, open it, and pull out my cell phone, knowing better than to engage with men like him in his current state.
“So you’re to good for me?” he slurs, snatching my cell out of my hand, and my eyes fly up.
“Give me my phone,” I say evenly, holding out my hand, and his eyes travel the length of me and his face scrunches up.
“Ho here thinks she’s too good for me.”
“Mike, come on. Give her the phone and let’s go,” someone says off to the side, but I keep my eyes on Mike, with my palm out toward him. My dad insisted I take martial arts with Jax when I was little. I hated it; I wanted to be a ballerina, not a ninja, but he was adamant about me being able to protect myself. Over the years, the skills I learned back then have come in handy, like now, when all I really want to do is kick the crap out of Mike but know better. One of the first things I was forced to learn was control, to never lose my temper. The second thing I learned was to keep my eyes on my enemy at all times. I was never really good at either, but I still got a black belt in the end.
“Mike,” I say softly, taking a step toward him. “I’m going to ask you nicely, once, to give me my phone. If you don’t, I swear to God I will unleash the Kraken, kick your ass in front of your friends, and send you home crying to your mother.”
Laughing, he looks around then his eyes widen as they move behind me. I really, really want to know what he’s looking at, but I refuse to turn my head and give in.
“Give her the phone.” The deep rumble of Dillon’s voice sends a chill down my spine. I’ve only heard him pissed a few times, and I know he’s pissed right now without even looking at him.
“I… I… w-was just playin’ man,” Mike stutters out, tossing my phone toward me. Missing my hands and causing my phone to crash to the ground, and my nostrils to flare as it shatters at my feet.
“Oh, shit. Oh, Christ. I’m sorry.” He drops to his knees and begins gathering the pieces of what used to be my phone then tries to get up, but falls face forward into my crotch, causing me to stumble back.
“I can’t believe this shit,” Dillon grumbles, catching me before I fall, then tugs me out of the way as Mike’s friends decide to finally step in and pick him up from the ground. “You had to wear that outfit.”
“You can not be serious right now?” I hiss, swinging my head back and finding him glaring down at me.
“Let me go.” I try to get free, but his hand on my waist tightens as his eyes leave mine. Swinging my head in the other direction, I find one of Mike’s friends standing a few feet away with my phone, looking anywhere but at us, and Mike off to the side, puking in a trashcan.
“Let me go,” I repeat, and his arm tightens for a moment before he finally lets me loose. I really want to scream or throw a fit, but instead, I calmly take my clutch and open it, holding it out toward the guy and letting him dump the now useless pieces inside. “You need to get him some Gatorade and toast,” I tell him, nodding toward Mike.
“Um, yeah sure. Than…” his words taper off, and the smile that was forming on his lips slides away as he looks over my shoulder. Rolling my eyes, I watch him turn quickly and go to Mike to help carry him away, feeling Dillon get close once more.
“Limo’s waiting,” he mutters, placing his hand against my lower back, making me tense.
“I’m not going.” I try to step away, but his hand slides around my waist, bringing my side into his middle.
“You are,” he growls, leaning forward, close… way too close.
“Fine, you want me there? I’ll go, but just so you know, I plan on getting completely wasted, so you have just become my chaperone for the evening.”
“You’re not getting drunk.”
“Wasted, not drunk. And you better make sure I don’t do anything stupid.” I pat his chest, ignoring his flashing eyes. With that, I step out of his grasp and start toward the line of limos then turn to look over my shoulder at him, realizing I have no clue which one to go to.
Smirking, he crosses his arms over his chest and raises a brow. “What’s wrong, blondie? Confused?” His mocking tone and the look of triumph in his eyes does it. I turn on my heels and head to one of the limos with the driver standing outside leaning against it. The moment the driver spots me coming in his direction, his back leaves the car and his eyes rake over me, making my teeth snap together.
“Can I help you, Miss?”
“Ashlyn Mayson, get your ass back here,” Dillon snarls behind me, making my palm itch to smack him.
“I’m sorry, pumpkin. I thought you said this was our limo.” I fake pout, turning to look at him and tossing my head to the side for good measure.
“Christ, you drive me fucking insane.” He walks to where I’m standing, tagging my hand, and then starts to drag me with him, grumbling under his breath.
“You know all I want in this whole wide world is to make you happy, pumpernickel,” I whine, batting my lashes while watching his jaw tic.
Leading me toward another limo with a driver holding the back door open, he growls, “Behave.”
“I swear I’ll be your good girl from now on if you don’t spank me,” I stage-whisper, and his hand spasms in mine as a smirk forms on his lips.
“You don’t behave, I’ll bend you over and tan your ass right here.” His words ring through my ears, making my insides liquid, and then I hear the sound of a male chuckle as I’m gently forced into the back seat of the dark limo before I can reply.
“You’re such a jerk,” I hiss, adjusting my skirt as I move across the leather seats.
“You started the show we put on. I just ended it,” he mutters, sitting down across from me and unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“You started it with the whole ‘blondie’ thing.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.
“Can we not do this tonight? Can we get along for one damn evening?”
“You tell me. I’m not the one who’s bossy and annoying all the damn time.”
“No, you’re just crazy.”
“Crazy?” I snort, and his lips twitch ever so slightly. “I’m not crazy.”
“Babe, you told that kid you were going to unleash the Kraken on him then went on to tell his friends to get him Gatorade and toast. You’re the definition of crazy.”
He may have a point, but instead of agreeing with him, I turn my head to look out the window and watch the city of Las Vegas slide by.
“Turn it off. Turn it off,” I croon sleepily as my hand sweeps out in the direction of the noise blaring from the alarm, missing it over and over as the beeping continues to torture me.
“Jesus, shut that shit off.” An arm comes from around me, and silence fills the room as my body freezes and my eyes spring open, only to close again when the room spins.
“Oh, God, why are you in my bed?” I hiss, trying to calm my stomach that feels like it’s getting ready to empty.
“You’re in my bed,” Dillon grumbles, sliding his arm around my waist, pulling my ass back into the crook of his thighs.
“Why am I in your bed?” I breathe as bits and pieces from last night flash through my mind, and none of them are good. None of them at all.
“You wanted to cuddle.” He buries his face in my neck then moves his hand up to cup my breast. I know I don’t have any clothes on when I feel the hair from his thighs tickle mine and his finger runs over my nipple. Oh, God. A memory of me telling him we have so much in common while we both got naked for bed fills my mind, and then another one pops in and my hand flies up to my face.
I force my eyes open, trying to focus, and see it there—the small, plain, white-gold band from the memory of him sliding it on my finger.
“We got married?” I shout, pulling his hand from my breast.
“We got married,” he agrees, not sounding upset, but instead, almost proud.
“Oh shit!” I fly out of the bed and trip over our clothes scattered across the floor, feeling him catch me right before I land on my face.
“Ash, calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down? Are you insane? We got married last night. Married, Dillon. I got married to a man who is engaged to another woman!” I yell, then cover my mouth. “Oh, God, I’m going to hell. I’m so going to hell for this.”
“I’m not engaged,” he says calmly, giving me a shake.
“I know your fiancée!” I screech, attempting to get away from him, only to have him hold me tighter.
“I’m not fucking with Isla. Now stop with the crazy.”
“You’re not with her?” I stop, and he runs a hand through his hair.
“No,” he states, holding my stare, and my body uncoils just slightly.
“Fine, I’m not going to hell.” I move away from him and resume pacing. “We need to find an attorney. I saw loads of advertisements on the strip. We’ll get one and get this taken care of. It’s no big deal. People get married in Vegas everyday then get divorced. We will just be one of the ninety percent,” I ramble while pacing.
“We are not getting an annulment.”
“Annulment, right.” I snap my fingers. “That’s even better. No one has to know about this.”
“Listen to me.” He grabs onto my shoulders, giving me a shake, and my eyes focus on his. “We are not getting an annulment, or divorced. We got married and are staying that way.”
“Oh, God, you were drugged.” I rest my hands against his chest and drop my voice, “Don’t worry. We’ll go to the hospital and they’ll give you something. Once you’re better, this will all be taken care of.”
“Jesus Christ.” He rubs his hands down his face, tilting his head back to look toward the ceiling. “I’m married to a nut.”
“Hey, that’s not nice.” I plant my hands on my hips. His head drops, his eyes scan the length of me, and I realize I’m naked… that we’re both completely naked. “Dillon.” I take a step back when his eyes meet mine, and his arms swing toward me. “What are you doing?” I shriek, sidestepping him, only to stumble onto the bed, where I attempt to roll. But he flips me to my back, his giant body moving between my legs, and his hands pin my wrists to the mattress over my head. Panting, I look up into his beautiful blue eyes.
“We are not getting a divorce,” he snarls, leaning down so his face is mere centimeters from mine.
“Be rational.” I lift my hips and my arms, trying to throw him off. “You’re obviously on—”
Before I can say more, his head descends and his mouth is covering mine, stealing my breath along with my soul. The feel of his lips, the taste of him on my tongue, ignites something deep inside of me, and I kiss him back with everything I am. Ripping my mouth from his, I pant, “Please let me go.”
“No.” The word sounds almost primal, and I lean up, placing my mouth back against his.
“Please, I want to touch you.”
Groaning, his hands release my wrists, and my palms fly to his chest and slide up and over his shoulders, pulling him closer to me as my legs wrap around the back of his thighs. He kisses me again, this time using his tongue and teeth to torture me in the most beautiful way possible.
“How is it possible you taste as good as you look?” he questions, pulling back, but I have no answer for him. He tastes amazing and having him covering me, his hardness pressing against my softness, is making my brain short-circuit. Palming my breast, he slides his thumb over my nipple, causing my hips to jerk forward. Rolling us again, he settles me on top of him, palms both my breasts, and then leans up, pulling my right nipple into his mouth, releasing it with a pop. “When did you get these?” he questions, flicking the tip with his tongue.
“When I was thirteen.” I smile, and he smiles back then moves to my other breast, doing the same, only sucking harder, almost punishing.
“When?” he asks again, and I know he’s asking about my nipple piercings. I got them with my cousin April a few years back. I wanted a piercing, but needed to be able to look professional to the outside world, so I got both my nipples done with simple, almost elegant-looking gold barbells.
“Three years ago,” I breathe as he tweaks the tiny piece of metal.
“What?” I try to focus, but every time he touches me, my body gets hotter and my focus depletes. Grabbing my hips, he tugs me forward, dragging my wet center along his length.
“Soaked.” He nips my nipple then wraps his hand into the hair at the back of my head, taking control of my movements as he pulls my mouth to his and thrusts his tongue between my lips. Lost in his kiss and the feel of him between my legs, so close to where I need and want him, I squeak when he flips us over and slides down my body, not giving me a chance to think as his mouth covers me.
“Dillon.” My hands move through his hair and my hips lift off the bed, offering myself up to him without thinking about anything but the way his tongue, lips, and teeth feel as he fucks me with his mouth. “Oh, God. Oh, God, I’m going to come,” I pant, feeling my toes curl into the bedding and my hands grip his hair. The touch of his finger rimming just the inside of my entrance sends me over, shouting his name as I go.
Feeling him kiss my inner thigh then my belly, over my breasts then shoulder, I come back to myself lazily.
“Tell me you want me.” Looking into my eyes while his hand moves between my legs and his fingers slide though my folds, I know I’ll give him anything. “Tell me you want me as badly as I want you.”
“I want you,” I hiss, feeling the very large head of his cock at my entrance, and then watch his eyes drop between us before my eyes do the same, and I know I need to tell him. “I—”
Oh, God, too late… way too late. I bite my lip as he fills me, stretching me.
“Tight, so goddamn tight.” He pushes in farther and his jaw clenches.
“Hold on. Please, hold on,” I breathe, and his body stills above me as his eyes search mine.
“I just need a minute.” I squeeze my eyes closed, feeling like an idiot.
“Baby.” His fingers slide along my jaw and cheekbone, into my hair. “Do you want to stop?” he asks gently, making tears sting my nose.
“God, no.” He feels good, so good. But he’s huge, way bigger than any of my toys. “You’re just big. So big.” I wiggle my hips and he hisses out a breath, grabbing my waist.
“Don’t say that shit when I’m inside of you,” he groans, dropping his forehead to mine.
“I have to tell you something, but please don’t be mad.”
“Christ, what now?” He pulls back, gritting his teeth.
“Stop being a jerk and let me talk.” I smack his shoulder and he looks down at me, thrusting in another inch.
“Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“What?” I moan, wrapping my legs around his hips as he slides in a little more.
“If it’s going to piss me off, I don’t want to know.” He slides out then back in, and my back arches off the bed as his thick cock fills every inch of me.
“You’re such a dick!” I cry out as he tosses my leg over his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrust.
“I don’t give a fuck about that either.” He drops his mouth, covering mine and stealing my reply—not that I have time to think about that as his mouth leisurely travels down my neck to my breast, which he pulls and sucks until I’m once again shouting his name and hearing mine groaned from his lips as we both come.
About The Author
Aurora Rose Reynolds is a navy brat who's husband served in the United States Navy. She has lived all over the country but now resides in New York City with her Husband and pet fish. She's married to an alpha male that loves her as much as the men in her books love their women. He gives her over the top inspiration everyday. In her free time she reads, writes and enjoys going to the movies with her husband and cookie. She also enjoys taking mini weekend vacations to nowhere, or spends time at home with friends and family. Last but not least she appreciates everyday and admires it's beauty.
Hit The Spot
Dirty Deeds #2
By J. Daniels
Release Date December 6, 2016
Is this love or just a game?
Tori Rivera thinks Jamie McCade is rude, arrogant, and worst of all . . . the sexiest man she's ever laid eyes on. His reputation as a player is almost as legendary as his surfing skills. No matter how her body heats up when he's around, she's determined not to be another meaningless hookup.
Jamie McCade always gets what he wants. The sickest wave. The hottest women. And Tori, with her long legs and smart mouth, is definitely the hottest one. He knows Tori wants him-hell, most women do-but she won't admit it. After months of chasing and one unforgettable kiss, it's time for Jamie to raise the stakes.
Jamie promises that soon Tori won't just want him in her bed, she'll be begging for it-and he might be right. Somehow he's found the spot in her heart that makes her open up like never before. But with all she knows about his past, can she really trust what's happening between them? Is Jamie playing for keeps or just playing to win?
This book can be read as a stand-alone.
Book 1--Four Letter Word
Tori froze a foot away, blinking at me. She didn’t speak. If she had a reason for coming in here, it looked like that reason just left her. She seemed lost.
“Legs,” I probed, when she kept with the staring and not speaking routine.
“What are you doin’ in here, babe?”
I had no fucking idea what was going on, but unless Tori wanted to watch some chick grind all over me, she needed to get what she came for and step out.
She wet her lips. I watched her neck work with a swallow.
“You showed me your dick,” she stated.
I felt my mouth twitch. Fuck yeah. Breathing a laugh, I relaxed back onto the bench, arms spread behind me and hands gripping the black leather cushion. I tipped my head to the side. “See that impression is stickin’,” I said. “What’s that got to do with this?”
“You showed me your dick after I flashed you. That was your move.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. What the fuck was she getting at?
Tori smiled. Her sin-colored lips stretching slow. “This is mine,” she said, lifting her shoulders as if this shit she was declaring wasn’t a big deal, which it sure as fuck was.
This is hers…Oh, fuck me.
Tori moved closer. Whatever smirk I was wearing pulled from my mouth. That pressure built again, in my chest and lower. I shifted on the bench.
“Legs,” I warned, my voice vibrating in my throat as I watched her walk toward me. “What’d I say about takin’ this shit places you can handle? Did you think this through?”
I was willing to bet she didn’t. If she had and knew how this could play out, with her bent over and me buried deep, she wouldn’t be back here.
“Shh.” Tori stopped in front of my knees. “If we talk, I won’t go through with this,” she admitted, sounding anxious. “And I doubt you’d be chattin’ up the girl who was supposed to be in here, so quit it. Just sit there. Shut up. And keep your hands to yourself.”
“You know what you’re doin’?” I asked, looking up at her. “’Cause in this room I’m allowed to touch, babe. Rules are out there.” I tipped my chin at the door, keeping her gaze. “Not in here. In here, I’m participatin’. You don’t like that deal, you better quit now and think of another move, ’cause the second you start takin’ shit off, Legs, I’m on you.”
“Then I guess I don’t need to worry,” Tori shot back, speaking with confidence and smiling again. The fuck did that mean? My brow tightened. “Say again?”
“I don’t need to worry ’cause I’m not taking anything off, meaning you won’t be on me. I’m just dancing.”
I stared at her for a beat. Then a laugh rumbled in my chest as I thought about how fucked she was.
“What?” she asked, tilting her head all cute. “This is a really good move.”
“Know it is. Not laughing ’cause of that.”
“Then why are you laughing?” She brought her hands to her hips and studied me, looking on the verge of an attitude. Her eyes narrowed. “If you think I need to take my clothes off to win this bet, then you are mistaken, Jamie McCade. I know how you feel about me in this uniform. This is gonna kill you.”
“Legs, hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong, babe. You gotta worry.”
“And why’s that?”
I dropped my arms and sat forward, elbows resting on my thighs. “You start dancin’ on me and I’m touching you,” I promised, watching her blink. “You start dancin’ anywhere in this room and I’m touching you. You don’t gotta strip, babe. I just threw that out there ’cause that’s where I thought this was headed. Telling me you’re makin’ a move and you’re makin’ it in a strip club, figured you’d be taking shit off, but honest to God, it don’t matter. Like I said before, rules are out there. Not in here. Only way I’m keeping my hands to myself is if I’m fuckin’ dead.”
“These are my rules,” Tori countered, bending down to get closer. “And unless you want me to holler out for my new friend with the gold tooth who looks like he eats narcissistic assholes for breakfast, I suggest you follow them, Jamie.”
I chuckled, knowing who she was talking about. Dude made sure I was clear on a few things before letting me back in here.
Something I wasn’t sharing with Legs. “And what are these rules, babe?” I asked.
She straightened and snapped, “I already told you. Sit there and shut up.” Tori put her hand on my shoulder and shoved, pushing me back until I was pressing against the bench again. Then keeping her grip there, she swung her knee up, braced it on the leather, and lowered herself onto my lap, lifting her other knee and boxing me in with it.
I pulled in breath through my nose and curled my hands into fists on the cushion. “And the touching?” I asked, voice strained as I stared at the shape of her tits.
They grew closer as she leaned forward, her hands shifting to hold on behind me, and my gaze snapped up to meet hers when her face got an inch away.
“Beg for it,” she whispered.
My eyes flickered wider. Hers brightened with impending victory.
No shit. Tori was gonna let me touch, but I had to call it. I had to let her win.
I had to fucking beg.
Why’d she have to be so good at this shit?
I steadied my gaze, telling her as my head tilted back, “Think I’ll just enjoy the ride.”
About The Author
J. Daniels is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction series, the Alabama Summer series, and the Dirty Deeds series.
She would rather bake than cook, she listens to music entirely too loud, and loves writing stories her children will never read. Her husband and children are her greatest loves, with cupcakes coming in at a close second.
J grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family.
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The Season Austin Arrows Book 2
By Nicole Edwards
Release Date October 25, 2016
When I signed on to the NHL, I promised to give 150% to the game. I’ve done that.
Little did I know, but they would ask more from me than merely my skill on the ice. The team wanted me to be their captain. It’s an honor, one I’ve done my best to fulfill. Although I can’t take all the credit, I was there to lead when we won the Stanley Cup.
I’m still at the helm now, when we’ve hit rock bottom. I know I have let my fears get in the way. I’ve let down the team, even if they don’t realize what I’ve done.
Now that the new season’s underway, I’m being called out. I deserve it. I can deal with that. It won’t be easy, but I’ll persevere.
What I can’t deal with is her.
She surprised me.
She came out of nowhere and blindsided me.
And there’s one serious issue.
Now that I have her, I refuse to let her go.
*This is a full-length, standalone novel. It is part of the Austin Arrows series, but can be read independently.
The SEASON: Kaufman (Austin Arrows, 2) Chapter 1
Thursday, October 6th
“I MADE AN EXTRA CHICKEN breast. You want one or two?” I chuckle, can’t help it. “Seriously. One or two? Can I possibly ask a dumber question?”
That unladylike snort … yeah, that was me.
While I fork my chicken breast onto my own plate, I don’t bother waiting for a response. I know what the answer will be. Two. Always two. Extra protein is never a bad thing.
After adding a heaping spoonful of steamed vegetables to my plate, I grab my wineglass and head to the table. I’m starving because I missed lunch today. That sometimes happens with my job. There are days that’ll go by when I’m bored to tears, standing behind the bar, and others when I can hardly stop long enough to take a breath. Sometimes I’ll snag some fried pickles if I get a chance. Today was the lack-of-breath kind of day. Go, go, go. All day long.
As I step out of my small galley kitchen, a knock sounds on my door. My bare feet squeak on the linoleum as I come to an abrupt halt. I manage to do that fancy lift and tilt thing to keep my wine from sloshing over the edge.
“Noelle! Honey, it’s Mom and Dad!”
“Crap, crap, crap.” I glance between my front door and the small, two-seat table in my breakfast nook currently set up with, nope, not one but two place settings. For the record, two is not a good number when the single girl’s mom comes banging on the door.
“Open up, Noelle! We thought we’d surprise you!”
Okay, well, I have to say my parents definitely accomplished their goal, because I am completely befuddled as I stand here debating what I should do. To a normal person, it might be a no-brainer. Open the door, let the ’rents come on in.
I’m not so sure this situation is going to qualify me as normal.
To answer or not to answer? That is the question.
On the other hand, I could be as quiet as possible and pretend I’m not home. Which, with my luck, won’t work. The fact that all the lights in my apartment are blazing and my baby blue Prius is parked directly in front of my window doesn’t help my cause any. Since no one else in the world drives a baby blue Prius, I can’t very well hide it.
But I could’ve gone out with friends, right? Could I be so lucky that they’d think that? It is a possibility. Maybe. Or, better yet, maybe they’ll think I’m at the Penalty Box. I tend to work a lot.
Yes, that’s definitely more logical.
Except, yep, you nailed it, the car is here.
Then again, if I weren’t so pathetic and didn’t choose to spend all my free time at home—unless I’m at my best friend Ellie’s—it might be an easier sell. They know me. I’m not the going-out type. Plus, they’ve probably already stopped by the bar to see if I’m there. They know that I much prefer a microwaved dinner at home, especially on a rare evening that I don’t spend waiting tables and slinging beer because I choose to.
Another knock makes my heart skip a beat.
“Stay calm. It’s cool.” I’ve been telling myself that far too much lately.
“Noelle! Are you all right, honey?”
Knowing my grumpy upstairs neighbor is likely going to have a cow any second now, I rush to the front door, unlock the deadbolt, and turn the knob. Instantly, Marie Dexter barrels into me, pulling me into her arms, crushing my face to her generous bosom.
My mother smells like roses. A sweet, familiar scent that makes me hug her back, despite the inconvenient timing of her arrival.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, my words muffled against her boobs.
She pulls back to look at me. “What took you so long? I was getting worried.”
My dad slips past my mother, giving me a knowing smirk. Ed Dexter loves when Marie goes all motherly on me. Come to find out, when my sister and I aren’t around, he gets to be the one Marie mothers. Not that he minds. They’ve been married for thirty-six years, so he’s used to it, or so he says.
“Ooh. You got new curtains.” My mother gently pulls away to admire the floor-to-ceiling cream sheers hanging on the wide front window.
I follow her gaze, glaring at my car sitting right there. Traitor.
I focus on the comforting hand my mother has on my arm. Always keeping me close, that woman.
I’m the oldest—my sister, Julie, who is seven years younger than me, was an oops baby—which should’ve meant my mother didn’t coddle me quite so much. That isn’t the case. Never has been. I’m not sure if it’s because there’s such a huge age gap between me and Julie, but whatever the reason, my mother likes to baby both of us equally. I’m thirty-four. You’d think she would’ve toned it down by now. Nope. In fact, I think she might be getting more motherly.
Honestly, she’s been this way since I was little. And, truthfully, I was the normal kid. The kind who wanted to do nothing more than be outside. Yep, totally me. Right up until sixth grade, when we moved to Austin, next door to the girl who would quickly become my best friend in the world. Either there was something in the Texas water or someone injected me with a doofus hormone, because upon moving here, I became stupid, which translates to: boy crazy. I think my mother worried about me more then. That lasted about two years. Three tops. When it became glaringly obvious that Tony Something-or-other wasn’t going to fall madly in love with the short, frumpy girl with glasses and braces, I decided to focus on my schoolwork and left the flirting with boys up to my best friend, Ellie. She was much better at it than me.
Luckily, I’m not so frumpy anymore, and I’ve shed the braces and glasses. Sure, I’m still short, and my boobs never did really develop, but that no longer bothers me. I’m me. That’s what matters.
What does bother me is the fact that Mom and Dad pop in unannounced all the freaking time. Of all nights, why did it have to be now?
A Million Tiny Pieces
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Naughty Holidays 2016!
ON SALE FOR $0.99 WHILE ON PRE-ORDER!
Want to win a signed paperback of Kaufman AND $50 Visa gift card?
Here is what you need to do:
1) Watch the Nicole Edwards Author Facebook page from October 25th - 28th to get the names of the 37 blogs participating in the Kaufman Tour giveaway.
2) Go to those blog's Kaufman Tour posts and find the 3 digit code located on the top tour banner.
3) Once you have that code go HERE and follow the directions on the form to enter.
4) Repeat for each blog you find the code for!
The person with the most correct entries will win a signed paperback of The Season: Kaufman AND a $50 Visa gift card!
If there is a tie, then the tied entries will be entered into Random. org to determine the winner. This giveaway will end and no longer accept entries on November 1st, 2016 11:59pm CST. Winner will be emailed by November 10th, 2016.
HINT! Only the blogs with this giveaway info are participating in the giveaway! Which means there is a code on this post!
By Jay Crownover
Release Date October 18, 2016
Don’t be fooled.
Don’t make excuses for me.
I am not a good man.
I’ve seen things no one should, done things no one should talk about. Honor and conscience have no place in my life. But I’ve fought and I’ve survived. I’ve had to.
The first time I saw her dancing on that seedy stage in that second rate club, I felt my heart pulse for the first time. Keelyn Foster was too young, too vibrant for this place, and I knew in an instant that I would make her mine. But first I had to climb my way to the top. I had to have something more to offer her.
I’m here now, money is no object and I have no equal. Except for her. She's disappeared. But don’t worry, I will find her and claim her. She will be mine.
Like I said, don’t be fooled. I am not the devil in disguise... I’m the one standing front and center.
I was in the Point for less than a day when I got word that the man that ran the streets wanted to see me. I like to lay low. I liked to blend in, but here it didn’t see like that was an option. Instead of desert sand, the battleground here was asphalt and concrete, and as soon as my presence was known, it was as if this place recognized the fight lying dormant inside of me. This city called to it. I don’t know why I instantly felt like I fit, but I did. So I went to see the man in charge, fully expecting to offer him the last of my cash in order to gain a foothold in the desolate kingdom. I was a survivor. I could do without money for a little bit. No man was more resourceful than I was.
I walked into a disgustingly gaudy strip club, offended by its crass ugliness. I was expecting to meet the ruler of the land, state my intentions, and let him know I would bow to no man here or anywhere else ever again. I was expecting a shakedown and maybe some strong-arming since I was obviously foreign and undocumented. I was technically legal since my mother had been an American citizen before she fell in love with an extremist, but I hadn’t really existed on paper since she handed me over to killers and radicals when I was just a kid. Mossad didn’t want me to be anything other than their trained attack dog, so they hadn’t offered up any proof of identity for me during my time at the end of their string. What I wasn’t expecting was that my cause, my reason, my purpose for living, and my something to believe in would be dancing nearly naked on a horrifically ugly stage, looking like she was going to cry at any second. She was so much more than freedom.
She was Honor.
She was beautiful, young, innocent, and so obviously resigned to her fate. It pulled at a heart I was stunned to find I still had buried somewhere deep underneath the brutal history that filled up the inside of me. It was the first time I felt it beat, and the pulse of its yearning scared and electrified me in equal measure.
I started to move toward her like all those invisible gods I spent my life killing for were leading me directly to her when suddenly a man twice her age and triple her size leaped from his seat next to the stage and hurled himself up onto the platform directly at the girl. In the blink of an eye he was on top of her, rough hands all over her naked flesh. I heard her scream. I saw her long limbs flail and thrash under him. A red haze filled my vision and I forgot all about staying quiet and laying low. I forgot all about being a ghost, and realized that I could channel the fight that had been forged into my very soul, the fight that was slumbering restlessly inside me at that moment, into protecting something so innocent. She woke the fight up and she kept it alive.
Enter the Giveaway HERE
About The Author
Jay Crownover is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men, The Point, and the Saints of Denver series. Like her characters, she is a big fan of tattoos. She loves music and wishes she could be a rock star, but since she has no aptitude for singing or instrument playing, she'll settle for writing stories with interesting characters that make the reader feel something. She lives in Colorado with her three dogs.