Fighting To Breathe
Shooting Stars #1 By Aurora Rose Reynolds Release Date July 6, 2015
Synopsis
Lea Lamb and Austin Wolf were young when they fell in love. They never imagined the future could hold anything other than together-forever. When Lea’s father dies in a tragic fishing accident, she's crushed under the weight of her grief and catches a glimpse of another type of future, one she knows she's not strong enough to face. Austin is angry. For the past fifteen years, he's believed the woman he loved with every ounce of his soul left him without so much as a backwards glance. When Lea unexpectedly returns to their hometown, all the years of heartache inside Austin bubbles to the surface and presents itself as blinding rage. Faced with the truth about the past, a newly discovered secret, these former lovers will learn that if they want to have any chance at the future they’d given up on all those years ago, they will have to rescue one another from drowning in pain so debilitating it will leave them both fighting to breathe.
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**10 cents from every book sold will be donated to fighting cancer one chapter at a time**
Excerpt
“CAN WE STOP by the liquor store on the way to dinner?” Mom asks from the passenger seat of my car. “Should you be drinking?” I frown then turn onto the main road—well, really the only road in town. “What’s it going to do, kill me?” she jokes, making me inhale a sharp breath. “Honey,” she says quietly, and I look at her briefly, wondering how the hell she can be so casual about this. “I’m dying. When it will happen, only the good Lord knows, but it is happening, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. I have made my peace with it, and I want you to do the same.” She reaches over to pat my thigh. “Make peace with it?” I repeat, shaking my head in disbelief. “Yes, make peace with it. If you think about it, I’m lucky. I know I’m going to die. I know that sooner rather than later God is going to come take me home, and when he does, I will be ready. I will have had a chance to say goodbye to the people I care about and right any wrongs I’ve caused. I’m lucky, honey.” “What about me?” I wring my hands on the steering wheel, feeling my chest get tight as I fight back tears. “I love you, honey. I loved you before you were even a sparkle in my eye, and I will always be with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. I know there are going to be a lot of tears shed, but we’re lucky, honey.” I press my lips together to keep from saying something I might regret. I’m not lucky; in fact, I’m unlucky to the tenth power. How many people have I lost, how many people do I have to loose before it’s enough. “Oh look! Sheryl!” She yells, pulling me from my thoughts as she reaches over, pressing the horn on my steering wheel while her other hand shoots across me so she can wave out my window. Looking to where she’s waving my heart begins to beat wildly against my ribcage when I see not Sheryl, but Austin walking into one of the many bars that litter Main Street, only it’s not just Austin—it’s him and a woman with her arm wrapped around the back of his waist as he holds the door open for her. Even from the distance separating us, my lungs compress at the beauty that is him. The years have been good to him. His hair is still shaggy, only now a little lighter; his face is tan and covered in a beard that makes his crystal blue eyes stand out even more. My eyes travel from his face to his torso, which is covered in a dark green thermal that shows off the muscles of his arms, chest, and tapered waist, then down to his denim-covered thighs. When my gaze sweeps back up, his eyes are on me, and I see them crinkle in confusion then realization that soon turns into anger. “You missed the liquor store,” my mom complains as I speed up.
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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. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest
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Ruin & Rule
Pure Corruption #1 By Pepper Winters Release Date July 7, 2015
Synopsis
"We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over reason. We fell in love. We fell hard. But then we woke up. And it was over . . ." RUIN & RULE She is a woman divided. Her past, present, and future are as twisted as the lies she's lived for the past eight years. Desperate to get the truth, she must turn to the one man who may also be her greatest enemy . . . He is the president of Pure Corruption MC. A heartless biker and retribution-deliverer. He accepts no rules, obeys no one, and lives only to reap revenge on those who wronged him. And now he has stolen her, body and soul. Can a woman plagued by mystery fall in love with the man who refuses to face the truth? And can a man drenched in darkness forgo his quest for vengeance-and finally find redemption? "Ruin & Rule is a full-length book at 436 pages and ends on a cliffhanger. Cleo and Kill's story continues in SIN & SUFFER."
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Excerpt
Prologue We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over rhyme, reason, or connection. We met. We stared. We knew. There was no distortion from the outside world. No right or wrong. No confusion or battles from hearts and minds. Just us. In our silent dreamworld. That nightmare became our home. Planting ghosts, raising fantasies. Entwined together in our happily skewed reality. We fell in love. We fell hard. In those fleeting seconds of our nightmare, we lived an eternity. But then we woke up. And it was over. Chapter One I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naïve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate. —Kill [ORN_SB] Darkness. That was my world now. Literally and physically. The back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me. Nothing was broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised. The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed light on what’d happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach at having such a fundamental gift taken away. I didn’t move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to enter—just enough to keep me alive. Fear tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to terror. Fear never helps, only hinders. My senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me would notice their return. Sound: the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping. Touch: the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and sharpness. A burn perhaps? Smell: dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fear—but it wasn’t mine. It was theirs. It wasn’t just me being kidnapped. My heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward. Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury. I refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I wouldn’t succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what might happen next. I hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing it with concern for theirs. Get through this, then worry about them. I didn’t think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor remnants or the smell of cigarettes. Had I been at a party? Nightclub? Nothing. I hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think… No hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d come for me. I wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested, stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I stopped trying to move, preserving my energy. I tried to swallow. No saliva. I tried to speak. No voice. I tried to remember what happened. I tried to remember… Panic. Nothing. I can’t remember. “Get up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again. Get.” I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past. I’ll miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter. “I’m not dying, you know.” I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at the final call flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all. “Call me the moment you get there.” “Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart-- The memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop. Who was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening? “I said get up, bitch.” The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully unprotected. Unfortunately. My captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold. My legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasn’t a masquerade. This was real. This is real. My heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong. I was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had left—remaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other side of my blindfold. Moans and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind. I willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into place, so I could make sense of this horrible world I’d awoken in. But my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know. The pushing stopped. So did I. Big mistake. “Move.” A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My bare feet traversed…wood? Bare feet? Where are my shoes? The missing knowledge twisted my stomach. Where did I come from? How did I end up here? What’s my name? It wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness. It was the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures. How could I deal with this new world if I didn’t know what skills I had to stay alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me out? Who am I? To have who I was deleted…It was unthinkable. “Faster, bitch.” Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could for dips or trips. “Step down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as my toes navigated the small steps before me. “Again.” I obeyed. “Last one.” I managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face. My face. What do I look like? A loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine form. The woman behind me cried out—the first verbal sound of another. “Move.” The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by…copper and metallic…blood? Why…why is that so familiar? I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory. “I don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach. “Don’t overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it bleed. It’s what you’re doing to make it live.” My professor shook his head, waiting for me to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in progress. My heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy that’d been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. He’d survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace the vocation I was called to do. Inhaling the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell of the creature’s life force until it no longer affected me. Picking up a scalpel, I said, “I’m ready—” “Holy fuck!” The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped. “Wire—get me fucking reinforcements. He’s started a motherfucking war!” Wind and body motion swarmed me as men charged from behind. The darkness I lived in suddenly came alive with sound. Bullets flew, impaling themselves into the metal sides of the vehicle I’d just stepped from. Pings and ricochets echoed in my ear. Curses bellowed; moans of pain threaded like a breeze. Someone grabbed my arm, swinging me to the side. “Get down!” The inertia of his throw knocked me off balance. With my wrists bound together, I had nothing to grab with, no way to protect myself from falling. I fell. My stomach swooped as tumbled off a small platform and smashed against the ground. Dirt, damp grass, and moldy leaves replaced the stench of blood, cutting through the cloying sharpness of spilled metallic. My mouth opened, gasping in pain. Blades of grass tickled my lips as my cheek stuck to wet mud. My shoulder screamed with agony, but I ignored the new injury. My mind clung to the unlocked memory. The fleeting recollection of my profession. I’m a vet. The sense of homecoming and security that one little snippet brought was priceless. My soul snarled for more, suddenly ravenous for missing information. I skipped straight from fumbling uncertainty into starvation for more. Tell me! Show me. Who am I? I searched inside for more clues. But it was like trying to grab on to an elusive dream, fading faster and faster the harder I chased. I couldn’t remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew was I’d been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasn’t afraid of it. I didn’t faint or suffer sickness at the sight of it pouring from an open wound. That tiniest knowledge was enough to settle my prickling nerves and focus on the outside world again. Battle cries. Men screaming. Men growling. The dense thuds of fists on flesh and the horrible deflection of gunshots. I couldn’t understand. Had I fallen through time and entered an alternate dimension? Another body landed on top of mine. I cried out, winded from a sharp poke of an elbow to my ribs. The figure rolled away, crying softly. Feminine. Why aren’t I crying? I once again searched for fear. It wasn’t natural not to be afraid. I’d woken up alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I wasn’t hyperventilating or panicked. My calmness was like a drug, oozing over me, muting the sharp starkness of my situation. It was bearable if I embraced courage and the knowledge that I was strong. My hands balled, grateful for the thought. I didn’t know who I was, but it didn’t matter, because the person who I was in this moment mattered the most. I had to remain segmented, so I could get through whatever was about to happen. All I had was gut instinct, quiet strength, and rationality. Everything else had been taken. “Stop fighting, you fucking idiots!” The loud growl rumbled like an earthquake, hushing the battle in one fell swoop. Whoever had spoken had power. Immense power. Colossal power. A shiver darted over my skin. “What the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovin’ mind?” a man yelled. A sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose. “It’s done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.” The same earthquake rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against the damp ground. “I’m not bending nothing, you asshole. You aren’t my Prez!” “I am. Have been for the past four years.” “You’re not. You’re his bitch. Don’t think his power is yours.” Another fight—muffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan. The earthquake voice came again. “Open your eyes and follow the red fucking river. Your chosen—the one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take over the Club—he’s dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me Prez for a fucking reason?” Another moan. “I’m the chosen one. I’m the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the legacy, and earned his way into power. You don’t know shit. Nobody does. So bend a fucking knee and respect.” Another tremor ran down my back. Silence for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a barely muttered curse. “You’ll die. One way or another, we won’t put up with a Dagger as a Prez. We’re the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a traitor rule us is a fucking joke.” “I’m the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead? I’m the traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?” A heavy thud of a fist connected with flesh. “No…I’m not. You are.” My mind raced, sucking up noises and forming wild conclusions of what happened before me. Was this World War Three? Was this the apocalypse of the life I couldn’t remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I couldn’t make sense of anything. The air was thick with anticipation. I didn’t know how many men stood before me. I didn’t know how many corpses littered the ground, or how such violence could be permitted in the world I used to know. But I did know the cease-fire was fragile and any moment it would explode. A single threat slithered through the grass like a snake. “I’ll kill you, motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take you out.” The gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. “The Corrupts haven’t existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the seat, it’s been Pure Corruption all the way. And you’re not fucking pure enough for this Club. You’re done.” I flinched as the sulfuric boom of a gun ripped through the stagnant air. A crash as a body fell lifeless to the grass. A soft puff of a soul escaping. Murder. Murder was committed right before me. The inherent need to nurture and heal—the part of me that was as steadfast as the beat of my heart—wept with regret. Death was something I’d fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless. I hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadn’t been able to stop it. I’m a witness. And yet, I’d witnessed nothing. I’d been privy to a battle but seen nothing. Knew no one. I would never be able to tell who shot whom, or who was right and who was wrong. My hands shook, even though I managed to stay eerily calm. Am I in shock? And if I was, how did I cure myself? The woman beside me curled into a ball, her knees digging into my side. My first reaction was to repel away from the touch. I didn’t know who was friend or foe. But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my calmness—to let her know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone. We faced the same future—no matter how grim. Voices cascaded over us, whispers mainly, quickly spoken orders. Every sound was heightened. Being robbed of sight made my body seek other ways in which to find clues. “Get rid of the bodies before daybreak.” “We’ll go back and make sure we’re still covered.” “Send out the word. It’s over. The Prez won—no anarchy today.” Each voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble that set my skin quivering like quicksand. He hadn’t spoken since he’d condemned someone to death and pulled the trigger. Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I wasn’t afraid. I should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he invoked something in me—something primal. Just like I knew I was female and a vet, I knew his voice meant something. Every inch of me tensed, waiting for him to speak. It was wrong to crave the voice of a killer, but it was the only thing I wanted. Needed. I need to know who he is. Wet mud sucked loudly against boots as they came closer. The woman whimpered, but I angled my chin toward the sound, wishing my eyes were uncovered. I wanted to see. I wanted to witness the carnage before me. Because it was carnage. The stench of death confirmed it. It was morbid to want to see such destruction, but without my sight all of this seemed like a terrible nightmare. Nothing was grounded—completely nonsensical and far too strange. I needed proof that this was real. I needed concrete evidence that I wasn’t mad. That my body was intact, even if my mind was not. I sucked in a breath as warm fingers touched my cheek, angling my face upward and out of the mud. Strong hands caressed the back of my skull, fumbling with my blindfold. The anticipation of finally getting my wish to see made me stay still and cooperative in his hold. I didn’t say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened. The man’s breath was heavy and low, interspersed with a quick catch of pain. His fingers were swift and sure, but unable to hide the small fumble of agony. He’s hurt. The pressure of the blindfold suddenly released, trading opaque darkness for a new kind of gloom. Night sky. Moonshine. Stars above. Anchors of a world I knew, but no recognition of the dark-shrouded industrial estate where blood gleamed silver-black and corpses dotted the field. I’m alive. I can see. The joy at having my eyes freed came and went as blazing as a comet. Then my life ended as our gazes connected. Green to green. I have green eyes. Down and down I spiraled, deeper and deeper into his clutches. My life—past, present, and future—lost all purpose the second I stared into his soul. The fear I’d been missing slammed into my heart. I quivered. I quaked. Something howled deep inside with age-old knowledge. Every part of me arched toward him, then shied away in terror. Him. A nightmare come to life. A nightmare I wanted to live. If life was a tapestry, already threaded and steadfast, then he was the scissors that cut me free. He tore me out, stole me away, changed the whole prophecy of who I was meant to be. Jaw-length dark hair, tangled and sweaty, framed a square jaw, straight nose, and full lips. His five-o’clock stubble held remnants of war, streaked with dirt and blood. But it was his eyes that shot a quivering arrow into my heart, spreading his emerald anger. He froze, his body curving toward mine. Blistering hope flickered across his features. His mouth fell open and love so achingly deep glowed in his gaze. “What—” A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands shook as he cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my cheekbones. “It’s not—” My heart raced. Yes. “You know me,” I breathed. The moment my voice webbed around us, storm clouds rolled over the sunshine in his face, blackening the hope and replacing it with pure hatred. He changed from watching me like I was his angel to glowering as if I were a despicable devil. I shivered at the change—at the iciness and hardness. He breathed hard, his chest rising and falling. His lips parted, a rumbling command falling from his mouth to my ears. “Stand up. You’re mine now.” When I didn’t move, his hand landed on my side. His touch was blocked by clothing but I felt it everywhere. He stroked my soul, tickled my heart, and caressed every cell with fingers that despised me. I couldn’t suck in a proper breath. With a vicious push, he rolled me over, and with a sharp blade sliced my bindings. With effortless power, so thrilling and terrifying, he hauled me to my feet. I didn’t sway. I didn’t cry. Only pulled the disgusting gag from my mouth and stared in silence. I stared up, up, up into his bright green eyes, understanding something I shouldn’t understand. This was him. My nightmare. About The Author Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex... her books have sex. She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends. Her Dark Erotica books include: Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1) Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2) Her Grey Romance books include: Destroyed STALK Pepper: Website | Pinterest | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads
Toxic
By Kim Karr Release Date July 7, 2015
Synopsis
Phoebe St. Claire has devoted herself to saving her family's hotel empire--but her best efforts have not been good enough. With her whole world in turmoil, the tenacious go-getter turns to the once love of her life. Far from innocent, Jeremy McQueen was the guy from the wrong side of the tracks who her parents would never have approved of. Their years apart have only made the sexy bad boy more irresistible than ever--and their reunion is explosive. When she asks Jeremy to help her salvage her family business, he agrees immediately, with only one condition--he wants her in his bed. But soon surprising circumstances leave Phoebe reeling. Was this fairy tale romance just too good to be true? Will Jeremy's secrets pull them apart all over again?
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Excerpt
© 2015 by Kim Karr Published by the Penguin Group Phoebe St. Claire Feeling a bit drunk and overwhelmed with so many and so few choices at the same time, I needed some time alone and snuck off toward the beach path. I ran toward the ocean and twirled in the sand as the wind blew around me. Once I started to feel dizzy from twirling, I still wasn’t ready to head back to the party, so I took the path that would lead me to the large Olympic-sized pool. I tugged my sandals off with thoughts of putting my feet in the water to rinse the mud and sand away. As I approached the pool, I noticed how it glowed like it was lit by small pale fires. Lost in the enchantment of it, the sudden movement beneath the surface startled me. A fair-haired boy emerged from the water. He pulled himself up and out so quickly that I was momentarily stunned. And then when he drank me in with his eyes, I shuddered. I couldn’t help it, the way he looked at me just made me shiver. No one had ever looked at me like that before and I found myself gazing back into his intense eyes. He was utterly beautiful. His bare chest was sculpted but not overly bulky like Danny or Jamie. They worked out every day pumping obnoxious amounts of iron to look the way they did. In contrast, the boy standing before me had a swimmer’s build. He stood stoic and a cautious look crossed his face. He was long and lean in a pair of bright green neon swim trunks. Right away I could tell he didn’t care what anyone thought about him. I loved the idea of that. So I smiled at him. He shook his head and his hair fell into his eyes. I wanted to reach out and push it away. It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short. It was perfect. “Hey,” he said, grabbing a towel off the ground. It didn’t belong to the club. It was small, beige, and a bit worn—not the large hunter-green fluffy ones monogrammed in white I’d always gotten when I used to come here to swim as a kid. “Hey,” I said back, swinging my sandals nervously. He grabbed a pair of jeans that lay next to where the towel had been and walked right by me. I turned to watch him as he strode into one of the cabanas and dropped his trunks. I froze and squeezed my eyes shut, thinking I shouldn’t be watching him but then opened them quickly when I couldn’t resist maybe catching a glimpse. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you it isn’t polite to stare?” His voice was low and sexy, and it tugged me out of my own head. I put my hands on my hips. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to undress in mixed company?” He pulled his jeans on and laughed. “My mother might have mentioned that once or twice but I’ve never been good at following the rules.” And it didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t put any underwear on first. Hot. Totally and completely hot. I didn’t see anything I shouldn’t have seen, it was too dark, but something inside me electrified at the thought of seeing him naked and I stepped closer. That’s when I noticed the scuffed-up black work boots on one of the lounges with a T-shirt thrown next to them. I raised a brow. “Is this your changing room?” He laughed again but this time added a smile and put his hands up. “Okay you caught me. I better get out of here before anyone else does.” He was adorable and charming and my heart skipped a beat or two. Then I stepped even closer and entered the cabana entrance, effectively blocking his way. “Why? You’re not doing anything wrong.” He shrugged but he didn’t try to move around me. “I usually swim in the ocean but when the water is too rough, like tonight, I come here.” I bit my lip in contemplation before speaking. “Does it really matter if you get caught?” He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Let’s just say it’s not just the swimming. It’s more that I’ve been caught doing a few too many things that I shouldn’t have been doing in the past.” A bad boy. The thought made my pulse thunder. “So you’re not a member at this club?” He cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. “No,” he laughed but his laugh was anything but genuine. “Are you?” I hesitated as I considered my answer. “No, I was just walking the beach and wanted to rinse my feet. I’m Phoebe,” I said extending my hand. Technically, I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t a member, my parents were. I hadn’t even been here in years. And I was out for a walk. Amusement danced in his blue eyes. “Jeremy,” he said back. When I chewed on my lower lip, I noticed how his eyes focused on it. Mine focused on the entirety of his mouth—his strong, firm jaw, his sensuous lips, and his tongue that had snuck out to lick his lips. That mouth. It was almost too much. Almost. Read another Excerpt from Toxic HERE
About The Author
I live in Florida with my husband and four kids. I've always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, I wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. I went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise my family. I currently work part-time with my husband and full-time embracing one of my biggest passions—writing. Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Fighting Shadows
On the Ropes #2 By Aly Martinez Release Date July 7, 2015
Synopsis
I come from a family of fighters. I always thought I’d follow in their shadows, becoming unstoppable in the ring. That changed the day I saved the life of a woman I loved, but could never have. My brother hailed me as a hero, and my reward was a wheelchair. Paralyzed, my life became an inescapable nightmare. Until I met her. Ash Mabie had a heart-stopping smile and a laugh that numbed the rage and resentment brewing inside of me. She showed me that even the darkest night still had stars, and it didn’t matter one bit that you had to lie in the weeds to see them. I was a jaded asshole who fell for a girl with a knack for running away. I couldn’t even walk but I would have spent a lifetime chasing her. Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life. Fighting the shadows of our past. Fighting to reclaim my future. Fighting for her.
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Excerpt
“Hey, Flint? What time is it?” Quarry asked. Ash’s smile actually slipped completely. For the briefest of seconds, she appeared almost ashamed. I dragged my eyes away from her in order to answer his question, but as I looked at my wrist, I had no answer at all. “Here,” she said as she pulled my watch from her pocket. What. The. Fuck? Quarry howled with laughter, and Ash chewed on her bottom lip. “Explain,” I demanded, wrapping my watch back around my wrist and shoving my wallet in the front pocket of my hoodie. Quarry filled in the blank. “She’s a pickpocket, dude. You should have seen her when she fell on your lap. It was so fucking fast. She straight-up stole that shit from you, and you had no fucking clue.” “I didn’t steal it! I was gonna give it back,” she amended uncomfortably. “It was just a joke.” A joke. A. Fucking. Joke. And just like that, I remembered why I didn’t laugh anymore. “Was it funny? Stealing from the cripple? You get a good laugh out of that?” I snapped, spinning and rolling myself away. “You know, maybe my judgment of you wasn’t all that off to begin with. Like father, like daughter, I guess.” It was a low blow, but I felt completely betrayed by a woman I didn’t even know. “Flint, wait. I wasn’t picking on the cripple!” I fully realized that I had just used the term, but it enraged me that she’d had the audacity to repeat it back to me. Who the hell was this chick? I pushed a hand into my pocket, searching for my keys. Fuck the food. I’d leave her ass there. Hell, Quarry too if he didn’t get his ass to the car. “Get in the car, Q!” I yelled, only to close my eyes and drop my chin to my chest when my hand never made contact on the keys. “Son of a bitch,” I said as I spun back around. Quarry was laughing next to her, but Ash’s cheeks were bright red. “Keys.” I snapped my fingers and opened my hand, palm up. “Stop being a dick,” Quarry said, casually tossing an arm around Ash’s shoulders. She didn’t budge as she held my glare. “Keys,” I repeated, but she remained still. “It was a joke.” Her chin began to quiver. For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t in any kind of mood to deal with bullshit from some girl I didn’t even know and was quickly discovering I didn’t care to know, either. Quarry’s eyes grew wide as she turned to him and buried her cries in his chest. What the fuck, asshole! Q signed before rubbing his hands over her back. Her shoulders shook as she let out a loud sob that shocked us both. “Come on. Let’s sit down.” Q tried to guide her over to an empty table. Ash refused to look up and tripped over one of the chairs. “Shit,” Q said, catching her around the waist. I was just about to roll my eyes when she glanced my way. He was still trying to get her back on her feet and over to a table when her tear-free, bright-blue eyes pointedly glanced in my direction. My head snapped back in surprise, but a smile grew on her face. Ash was about to put on a show, and with that one look, she had invited me to have a front-row seat. As she floundered all over Quarry, her hands slid between his pockets and her own. Every noise she made and each time she flailed covered up a jarring movement. She was keeping his mind too busy for it to process all the places she was touching him. Hell, I was only watching her and I could barely keep up. There was no denying that it was entertaining, but I wasn’t willing to show her that. However, as she accidentally lifted her knee, catching Q in the balls, a laugh erupted from my throat. He cupped his crotch while she apologized profusely and pushed him toward the same chair he’d been dragging her to only seconds before. Just before he sat, Ash swung her arm out, unwinding Q’s belt from around his body before tossing it at me. “Oh God. I’m so sorry!” she said as Quarry held a finger up to ask for a second to recover. She didn’t wait at all though. Instead, she walked over in my direction; her prideful smile grew with every step. She pulled my keys out of her pocket and dropped them into my lap. They were quickly followed by Quarry’s phone, wallet, and house keys. Then she snagged his belt off the floor and tossed it over her shoulder. “It had absolutely nothing to do with you being in a wheelchair. It was a joke and it wasn’t supposed to piss you off.” “Hey!” Quarry yelled. “That was messed up. You did not have to knee me in the balls to prove a point to him.” “Oh, that wasn’t to prove a point. That was for bullshitting me. You knew good and damn well that he wouldn’t find it funny,” she said without ever tearing her gaze from mine. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot of friends. And I’ve mentally noted that pickpocketing might not be the best way to make new ones.” She shrugged. “Consider it a lesson learned.” “Three burgers all the way, onion rings, and a shake?” the guy at the counter called out. Ash arched an eyebrow. “You want it to go, or are we good?” I didn’t have to drop my attitude. Sure, she’d apologized, but while I might have had a short fuse, I also had a hell of a long burn. However, as she stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes pleading for forgiveness, it magically fell away. I swallowed hard. “No. We’re good.” “You sure?” She leaned in, eyeing me warily, but her smile began to grow. I swear to God it pulled at my lips as well. I fought it. But the harder I tried to keep it restrained, the bigger Ash’s grew. She was stealing my smile. The chick was good! Finally, with an eye roll, I let out a quiet chuckle, which seemed to appease her. “Good. Now, help your brother get redressed and I’ll make the fancy sauce.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Fighting Silence
Haven’t read this series yet? Meet Flint Quarry, Till & Eliza Amazon http://amzn.to/1G7cOIp Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Lhhn62 B&N: http://bit.ly/FightingSilenceBN Kobo: http://bit.ly/1A2cSnr iBooks: http://bit.ly/1zbJT0u
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$50 Gift Card Signed Set of Paperbacks (Fighting Silence & Shadows)
About The Author
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side. After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
By Nicole Edwards
Release Date July 7, 2015
Synopsis
Adored, A Club Destiny Novella New York Times bestselling author Nicole Edwards revisits Tag and McKenna, a power couple who have gone from infatuation to adoration in Adored (Club Destiny #7.5) Tag has waited two years for this. Sure, he knows he’ll need to be persuasive in order to get McKenna on board, but nevertheless, he’s up for the challenge. Even when the tables turn and he’s the one in the spotlight, Tag knows that the payoff is absolutely worth it. Without Regret, A Devil's Playground Las Vegas Novella The first book in the HOT new Devil's Playground series! Isaiah Fontenot had never played the role of white knight. At least not until his boss, Maximillian Adorite, gave him the order to. That was when he found himself coming face to face with the stunning Cassidy Owens, the woman in need of saving. Cassidy only thought she was hiding from the men who were looking for her brother. Not knowing where to go, Cassidy opted to hide in plain sight, taking up temporary residence in a Vegas hotel near her condo. Turned out, she wasn’t as good at hiding as she had planned. When Isaiah finds Cassidy, it doesn’t take long for passion to ignite. But at the end of the day, when the threat to Cassidy has been neutralized, will the two of them be able to walk away? Without regret? Novella, No cliffhanger Devil's Playground is a spin-off series from Southern Boy Mafia. Each novella is complete and does NOT contain a cliffhanger.
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About The Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Nicole Edwards lives in Austin, Texas with her husband, their three kids, and four rambunctious dogs. When she’s not writing about sexy alpha males, Nicole can often be found with her Kindle in hand or making an attempt to keep the dogs happy. You can find her hanging out on Facebook and interacting with her readers - even when she’s supposed to be writing. Nicole also writes contemporary/new adult romance as Timberlyn Scott. Nicole would love to hear from you! Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Newsletter
Flawed Love
House of Obsidian #2 By Bella Jewel Release Date July 7, 2015
Synopsis
We were born into the same crowd. His father: a useless drunk. My mother: a psycho junkie. We lived across the road from each other. We became best friends when I was only ten. He became my sole reason for breathing. Seven years later, he forgot about me. I don’t know the exact moment he changed. Suddenly I was just the girl next door, and he no longer cared. He didn’t want to be in my life. He didn’t want to help. He ran off the rails, tossing me aside. I no longer mattered. Nothing we shared did. The next thing I knew – he was gone. Ten years and I didn’t see or hear from him. Then came the call I’d be waiting for – he was back in town. Only the man I remembered is not him. This man is quiet, deadly, and so incredibly beautiful. He also diesn’t remember me. I let him believe I’m just a girl that walked into his bar. I let him believe I’m just a friend. I let him use me on the cold, dark nights. I let him believe I’m incapable of love, just like he is. I just let the secret go on and on. But all secrets have an end, don’t they?
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Flawed Heart
House of Obsidian #1
Synopsis
I met him in college, and I fell in love. It was a beautiful love, pure and perfect. Max quickly became everything I could have ever wanted. He was the jock, the popular guy, and I was just Belle. But he made me so much more. He gave me everything I could have ever wanted in life. But one night, one accident. It changed everything. The man I loved. The man I thought I knew...disappeared. I can't tell you the exact moment he fell out of love with me. But he did. I wish I could tell you there was hope. That I hung on. That I fought. I wish I could tell you that we fixed it. That happily ever after was just out of our grips. It wasn’t. I ran. In the dead of the night, I packed my things and I left him. Five years later, I have returned. He’s still the same man I left behind. A deadly underground fighter for the House of Obsidian. He’s still dangerous. He’s still broken. I still love him. We're both holding a secret, and that secret might just change everything. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have never left. Did I give up too easily? This is the part where I’m supposed to turn back around and run…but I don’t. I can't. Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1N0eWox Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1BvhYAk B&N: http://bit.ly/1GDnLTo Kobo: http://bit.ly/1GBdsPH iBooks: http://apple.co/1ggxqqu
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$100 Amazon gift card
About The Author
Bella Jewel is a self published, USA Today bestselling author. She’s been publishing since 2013. Her first release was a contemporary romance, Hell’s Knights which topped the charts upon release. Since that time, she has published over five novels, gaining a bestseller status on numerous platforms. She lives in North Queensland and is currently studying editing and proofreading to further expand her career. Bella has been writing since she was just shy of fifteen years old. In Summer 2013 she was offered an ebook deal through Montlake Romance for her bestselling modern day pirate series, Enslaved By The Ocean. She plans to expand her writing career, planning many new releases for the future. Link Website: http://bellajewelbooks.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Bella-Jewel/513907282000951 Twitter: https://twitter.com/BellaJewel73 Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/bellajewel Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7178194.Bella_Jewel
Easy Charm
Boudreaux #2 By Kristen Proby Release Date July 7, 2015
Synopsis
Gabrielle Boudreaux, the youngest of the Boudreaux clan, is a single mother of her young son, Sam. Running a Bed and Breakfast at the family plantation house at the edge of the Mississippi River, Gabby loves her inn, her boy and her family. She meets new people every day, and takes pride in the house and land that has been in her family for more than five generations. Blessed beyond measure, she’s also lonely, although she would never admit that to anyone. Until Rhys O’Shaughnessy walks through her door, brooding and wounded and the sexiest thing she’s ever laid eyes on. Rhys has been at the top of his game as a major league pitcher for the Chicago Cubs for more than ten years. Baseball is in his blood. But when he tears his rotator cuff and has to sit a season out, he retreats to Inn Boudreaux at the recommendation of his cousin, Kate, to heal and work toward building his shoulder back to perfect shape with only one goal in mind: to return to the game he loves. But he didn’t plan on being utterly charmed by a devastatingly beautiful woman and her baseball-loving son. When Rhys’ shoulder has healed and he’s given the chance to return to his team, will he leave the family he’s come to love behind, or will he stay with Gabby and Sam?
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Excerpt
“Good, but you should have called me,” Eli says, then sighs when Rhys kisses my hand. “Are you going to continue to touch my sister for all of us to see?” “Yes,” Rhys replies simply, making Kate grin. “I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Eli says. “You don’t have to feel any way about it,” I reply in frustration. “I’m a grown-ass woman.” “It’s my job to protect you,” Eli says, as if I’m being difficult. “But it’s not your job to be an ass,” Kate says, but softens the blow by kissing his cheek. “It’s Rhys. You know him. And they’re cute together.” “Hurt her, and—” “Seriously,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear the hurt her and I’ll kill you speech. “We’re fine.” “I get it,” Rhys says to Eli. “I feel the same about Kate; you know that. We’ve had that conversation. I almost decked you when you showed up in Denver.” Eli sits back in his chair, and his eyes calm a bit, but he looks no less foreboding. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” Eli says calmly, just as our meals are delivered. “Back at you,” Rhys replies with a cold smile. Kate catches my eye, and we both sigh, and shrug as if to say, what can you do? They love us. They’re worried about us. Damn it, sometimes they’re idiots. But lunch is delicious. “Beau said this morning that you need a new dishwasher,” Eli says. “I do. I’ll find time to pick one out in the next few days.” “Just come to the office with me after lunch and sign off on one, and I’ll have it delivered. It’s your inn, but damn it, we can help with that shit. You’re busy enough.” “Too busy,” Kate agrees. “I think I’m going to hire some help,” I reply. “Rhys might have talked me into it.” Eli’s eyebrow shoots up in surprise. “We’ve been trying to talk you into it for over a year.” “I didn’t need it a year ago.” I shrug and twirl a long string of cheese around my fork. “But I’m much busier now, and Sam is getting more involved in things, so it’s time to have some help.” “I’ll take care of it,” Eli says, as if there is no room for argument, and I simply laugh at him. “No, you won’t.” “Gabby, I have a whole HR staff that can easily find someone qualified to help you.” “I’m perfectly capable of finding someone to help me,” I reply. “You run your business, and I’ll run mine, big brother.” He sits back in his hair and tilts his handsome head, watching me. “Okay. You handle it.” “I will.” I nod once and sip my Coke. “I wonder if I should specify in the ad that felons aren’t welcome to apply.” “Gabby, let me handle this!” Eli exclaims, and I can’t help but dissolve in a fit of giggles. “I’m teasing. It sure is fun to get you all riled up.” “Most wouldn’t dare,” Kate says good-naturedly. “I wonder what people would say if they knew that he’s nothing but a big softie.” “I will take you over my knee, Kate,” he murmurs to her, and Rhys tenses up beside me, but Kate just laughs and leans her head on Eli’s shoulder. “Right. Except you have this thing against spanking me, so I don’t think that’ll happen.” Eli’s lips twitch as he buries them in Kate’s hair and kisses her head. “I don’t mind being spanked,” I add and eat a chip loaded with cheese and beans, just as Eli’s eyes go cold again, pinned on Rhys, who simply laughs beside me. “I don’t need to know this,” Eli growls. “It’s not like he leaves marks. Well, they don’t stay for long.” Kate is laughing like a loon into her hand, Rhys is smiling widely, and Eli looks like he’s about to spit nails. Or spank me himself.
Easy Love
Boudreaux #1 Eli Boudreaux’s family has built ships and boats in Louisiana for generations. He comes from a hardworking, wealthy family and his empire is growing by leaps and bounds. At thirty, he is the youngest CEO to ever head Bayou Enterprises, co-chairing with his eldest brother. His head for business and his no-nonsense work ethic is also quickly making him the best the company has seen in generations. His staff admires him, women adore him and Eli’s family is solid. But he’s recently discovered that someone on the inside of his business is stealing from him and he’s determined to find out who. Kate O’Shaughnessy is hired by companies all over the world to slip inside and investigate every member of the organization from the CEO down to the custodial staff to find the person or persons responsible for embezzling. She’s excellent at blending, becoming part of the team, and finding the weakest link. She’s smart, quick-witted, and she’s now been hired by Bayou Enterprises, specifically Eli Boudreaux. The attraction is immediate and the chemistry is off the charts, but Kate has heard all about Eli’s playboy past and she has a job to do. Sleeping with the boss isn’t a part of that job, even if just the sound of her name rolling off that Cajun tongue and the way he fills out a designer suit does make her sweat. Eli’s southern charms surprise Kate. The man whose reputation labels him as a ruthless, callous womanizer is not the man she’s coming to know intimately. He’s generous, protective and makes her smile. Cracking through Kate’s cool, reserved demeanor and discovering her love of sexy, expensive lingerie is a challenge Eli can’t resist, but her sweet nature, love of family and sense of humor pull at him in ways no one else ever has. But when the person responsible for trying to single-handedly dismantle Eli’s empire comes to light, and it’s time for Kate to move on, to what lengths will Eli go to keep the woman he’s fallen in love with by his side? Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo
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About The Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Kristen Proby is the author of the popular With Me in Seattle series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong characters who love humor and have 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 spends her days with her muse in the Pacific Northwest. She enjoys coffee, chocolate, and sunshine. And naps. Visit her at KristenProby.com. Website**Facebook**Twitter**Author Goodreads**Novel Goodreads
Toxic
By Kim Karr Release Date July 7, 2015
Synopsis
New York Times bestselling author Kim Karr turns up the heat in a smoking hot, emotionally compelling romance that takes you into the world of Manhattan's elite. Meet Jeremy McQueen, a sexy, intense, brooding entrepreneur who goes after what he wants, and Phoebe St. Claire, a socialite-turned-CEO who's been drifting through life searching for something she thought she'd never find again--the right man to share her future. Phoebe St. Claire has devoted herself to saving her family's hotel empire--but her best efforts have not been good enough. With her whole world in turmoil, the tenacious go-getter turns to the once love of her life. Far from innocent, Jeremy McQueen was the guy from the wrong side of the tracks who her parents would never have approved of. Their years apart have only made the sexy bad boy more irresistible than ever--and their reunion is explosive. When she asks Jeremy to help her salvage her family business, he agrees immediately, with only one condition--he wants her in his bed. But soon surprising circumstances leave Phoebe reeling. Was this fairy tale romance just too good to be true? Will Jeremy's secrets pull them apart all over again? THIS IS A STANDALONE SECOND-CHANCE ROMANCE WITH NO CLIFFHANGER ENDING.
Excerpt
© 2015 by Kim Karr Published by the Penguin Group Release date: July 7th, 2015 Phoebe St. Claire “Where are you?” he asked. “Home.” “I know. Where in your apartment are you?” “On my bed.” “Where are you?” I asked. “Give me a minute.” I heard stomping up some stairs and then a door closed. “On my bed,” he said in that same husky tone. I nearly stopped breathing. “Are you still there?” he asked again. “Yes,” my voice was raspy. In a deep husky voice he said, “Tell me what you’re wearing under your clothes.” Arousal overtook my mind and I answered quickly. “A bra and panties.” “Take off your clothes and tell me what they look like.” Flushing from head to toe I managed to say, “Jeremy!” “Phoebe, I’ve seen you in your underwear. Christ, I’ve seen you naked. Just put your phone on speaker, dim the lights, and describe to me the lucky pieces of fabric covering your tits and pussy.” Shock and desire swarmed through me in equal measure. Memories of his dirty mouth came back in a flash. I’d loved it so many years ago, loved when we were flesh to flesh. And this was different. I’d never had phone sex before. Had no idea how to, but I knew I was about to find out. I wasn’t going to turn him down. I wanted this. The sexual tension that had blossomed between us was causing me to go insane. I was touching myself when I woke up in the middle of the night, and then in the shower before work, and last night and the night before after I hung up the phone with him. I’d been masturbating to the thought of him nonstop. Phone sex had to be so much better. “Give me a minute,” I whispered needing to ease into the more intimate exchange that I knew was coming. I stripped out of my skirt and blouse and all but tore my hose pulling them off. The lights were already dimmed, so that wasn’t an issue. I heard his own mattress squeaking and wondered if he had started without me. My phone beeped again and I looked down. This time it was an incoming call from Jamie. I ignored it. Then, I took a deep breath and a giant leap of faith as I sat on my bed in my underwear. Just as I was thinking about what I could say, he spoke. “I have to be honest with you,” he said. My heart sank. I didn’t like any conversation that started with those words. With a heavy exhale, he said, “I’ve been hard all week just thinking about you and I have to admit, my wrist hasn’t been worked out this much in a long time.” Picturing his hand, his cock, his hips, and the perfect choreographed movement of all three had me barely cognizant. “Phoebe?” “I’m here,” I said in the raspiest tone. “Then I’ll be honest too. It’s possible that I’ve made myself come more times this week than I have in my entire life.” I wasn’t exactly comfortable initiating a kinky conversation. But I could follow his lead. “Jesus Phoebe, you can’t talk that way to me when I’m not near you.” Something primal erupted within me. “And I want to do it again.” “Fuckkkk.” I moaned at his use of the word fuck. It sounded entirely too delicious. Equally as delicious was his sexy laugh that followed. “So what are we going to do about this dilemma?” I sunk back into my pillows and pictured his face—his lips parted and his eyes heavy-lidded. I knew what I wanted to do about it. Did he want to do the same thing? I hoped so.
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About The Author
I live in Florida with my husband and four kids. I've always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, I wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. I went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise my family. I currently work part-time with my husband and full-time embracing one of my biggest passions—writing. Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Heavy Secrets
By Elle Aycart Release Date June 30, 2015
Synopsis
Christy Sheridan has come a long way from the physical and emotional wreck she used to be. She's made Alden her home and is happily engaged to a man who loves and accepts her for who she is, curves, quirks, and geekiness included. Life is good. Until mommy dearest blows into town to "help" her clueless daughter seal the deal. Cole Bowen is experiencing a world of firsts: first time in love, first engagement, first Valentine's, first in-laws. He's found the woman of his dreams, so he figured dealing with Martha Sheridan was a small price to pay. That is before his monster-in-law plants herself in their home and inside Christy's head, stirring up old demons and destroying her newly regained self-esteem. And while his hands are full with trying to neutralize their meddlesome guest, a mysterious phone call turns his world upside down. With ghosts from the past resurfacing and threatening to tear Cole and Christy apart, can they make it to the wedding they both so desperately want, or will heavy secrets send their relationship to the breaking point?
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Excerpt
Chapter One “How many years do you think I’d get for offing my mom? Because honest to God, if we’re talking single digits, I’m willing to risk it,” Christy said while leaning back on the lounge chair after getting a full-body massage that had left her totally gooey. They were at the spa, wearing fluffy bathrobes and sipping tea, except for Christy, who was nursing a diet soda. “Just name a time and place, and we’ll be there with a shovel. No questions asked,” Annie said, and Holly and Tate assented. “I could claim temporary insanity.” Heck, emotional self-defense too. “Don’t worry, we’ll vouch for you. No jury in its right mind would convict you,” Holly stated. “I thought you were exaggerating, but boy, were you understating. What a…character.” Ha. That was one way of putting it. Annie nodded in commiseration. She’d met Martha a long time ago, when the girls were in college. Christy had gone for an East Coast institution, hoping it would be out of her mom’s range, but going away had been useless. There was no place far enough. Crazy had its own methods of reaching her. “Where’s the Grand Diva now?” Tate, Christy’s future sister-in-law, asked. “Checking out wedding dresses. She arranged an appointment at a bridal shop. I stood her up.” Her whole posse turned to her, looking stupefied. “She’s picking out a wedding dress without the bride?” Yeah, typical Martha stunt. “I know I should be there, but why, really? She won’t listen to anything I say. I might as well save my breath.” And a whole lot of pain and abuse in the process. The girls pondered for a second and then nodded. “Oh, and remember,” Christy added, reaching for her diet soda. “I’m not here. I’m in the middle of a massive twelve-car accident. Well and healthy but stuck inside the vehicle and waiting for the firefighters to come and cut the roof open to rescue me.” That her mom hadn’t rushed to her side when Christy called her—and that Christy had known she wouldn’t—already said it all. “And when your mom realizes your car is intact? Then what?” Tate asked, to which Christy couldn’t help snorting. “That would imply she remembered our talk. It won’t happen. A total impossibility.” Christy would bet anything, her first unborn child included—and her second and third—that her mom wouldn’t even mention it. That was the advantage of being disappointed one too many times; no way in hell to harbor false illusions. Martha’s number-one priority was…Martha. Followed by whatever man she was screwing with at the moment. How she’d managed to marry a decent guy and keep him for several years was beyond Christy. Then again, Fred was too kind for his own good. That or he had a hell of a lot of bad karma from a previous life. For a split second, she’d considered going to the bridal shop, but then she’d discarded the idea. Defaulting to her smile-accept-and-walk-away technique, she’d nodded and kept quiet. And had run in the opposite direction at the first chance. Let her mother get her kicks. Just let her do it far away from Christy. Besides, there was no damage Martha could do; Christy had told the shop assistant not to reserve anything without her consent. Holly poured herself more tea. “Doesn’t she know you don’t want a traditional dress for your summer wedding?” “She knows. She just doesn’t care.” They were talking about a woman who had gotten married four times, once with a beer-can tab as a ring. Appointments at high-scale bridal shops were a dream come true for her. “I feel like a shitty daughter, but I’m so ready for her to leave.” Martha had come for Christmas with her husband and stayed a couple of days. It had gone rather well, probably because Cole was scary enough and Martha hadn’t worked herself up to be…well, herself. This time around, she’d been in Alden for three days, without Fred, and Christy was ready to face the gallows for a chance to get rid of her. Fate had thrown Christy the mother of all curve balls when it chose Martha as her sole parent. Their relationship had always been complicated, to say the least, with Christy spending all her life putting out fires—Martha’s—and eating to cope. Eventually she’d gotten her food addiction under control, but changing her mom and her nasty ways was something out of her reach. And having Martha living with her without Fred as a buffer was bringing up all sorts of feelings and automatic coping mechanisms that Christy had thought she’d left behind. Lora, Christy’s former sponsor, had been right: nothing guaranteed recovery, and they were always one upset away from relapse. “What about Cole?” Tate asked, taking Christy out of her reverie. “Isn’t he putting her in her place?” He would if he knew. Apparently Martha was learning subtlety, at least in front of a 240-pound, uncompromising ex-marine. It also helped that Christy had asked him not to interfere. Cole was a black-and-white kind of person. Intransigent and not inclined to put up with moronities. Left to his own devices, he would have kicked Martha out the first day. “She’s…contained around him. I think she’s scared of him.” “She and half the world, sister,” Holly mumbled. Christy rolled her eyes and, after reaching inside the pocket of her bathrobe, fished out a sugar-free cherry lollipop. “Come on. Cole is a harmless sweetie.” Who liked macho power tripping and playing with cuffs, but a sweetie nonetheless. They’d been together for six months, and although they’d clashed several times, he’d kept his word and hadn’t shut her out. He’d leave to cool down—sometimes he went to his brother James’s; sometimes she saw him pacing up and down the yard, muttering under his breath—but he always came back and they always found middle ground. “To you he’s harmless,” Holly corrected as Christy unwrapped the candy. “Wait until he finds out about the pole-dancing classes. Mike already told Kyra to up her insurance. And to make sure there are no guys lurking around during said classes.” Cole and his men had started working on Kyra’s dance studio right before Christmas and had gotten it ready in no time. Anything to get the exotic aerobics and the horde of giggling women in tight thongs out of Haddican’s, the local gym, and away from so much bubbling testosterone. “It’s all Annie’s fault,” Christy shot back, giving her friend the evil eye. “She signed me up without asking.” Christy wasn’t much for showing herself off, and pole dancing was exactly that, but Kyra had been so excited to have her and Tate on board that it had been impossible to get out of it without hurting Kyra’s feelings. On the plus side, Martha hadn’t found out about her daughter’s new hobby. She would have made fun of Christy or joined the classes. Either way, no number of twelve-step meetings would have helped Christy get through that trauma. Her mother was many things, but ugly and clumsy she wasn’t. That her ass and boobs were still perkily pointing north and that she moved perfectly to capitalize on that also helped. Working a pole under her reproving stare would have killed Christy and her shaky, newly developed self-esteem. For all Martha’s dumb decisions in her personal life—and boy, were there plenty—she had a witty tongue and knew how to deliver killer putdowns. “Duh, you would have said no,” Annie replied, bringing her back to the present. “And I owed you one after you got me into exotic aerobics.” “You know I can’t quit the exotic aerobics. I needed company.” Christy had gone there just on a whim, but then Cole saw her and, in one of his my-way-or-the-highway stunts, had tossed her over his shoulder and stomped out of the class. Now she couldn’t quit, just on principle. She needed to stand her ground with Cole, especially when he was being a control freak and attempting to fuck her into submission, which was very often. Besides, she liked that class. And defying Cole. Annie pursed her lips. “A pregnant woman wiggling her ass around a chair and pretending to be sexy is…definitely not.” “I’m pretty sure Max feels otherwise,” Holly said. “I’ve seen him watching you. No way to disguise that look.” “What look?” “That tight expression. The she’s-mine-everyone-back-the-fuck-off glare, mixed with wait-till-I-get-a-closed-door-between-us-and-the-rest-of-the-world.” Tate laughed. “That’s the standard Bowen look.” Damn right. Christy had seen it on Cole’s face many times. Before and after fucking her senseless. Heck, while too. She loved that proprietary look. It said she was beautiful and he needed her. For someone who’d battled self-esteem issues all her life, it meant the world. Cole meant the world to her. “As soon as the baby pops out,” Christy said, pointing at Annie’s seven-months-pregnant belly, “you’re marching into the pole-dancing classes with me. No frigging excuses.” Annie shook her head. “I have shitty coordination. I’d kill myself.” “Sure. And the swing up in Max’s room?” They were all rosy from their facial massages, yet Annie visibly flushed. “Hmm, that’s for yoga?” Christy couldn’t stifle the giggle. Neither could Holly or Tate. Yeah, because Max was such a yoga type. Christy dipped her sugar-free lollipop on her diet soda. “If I’m making an ass out of myself and Kyra is risking the integrity of her new business, you’re joining us after recovering from childbirth.” Annie grimaced, pointing at Christy’s glass. “That’s gross. I thought you were cutting back on your weird stuff.” Yeah, she’d thought that too. Until her mom blew into town. “Cola-flavored cherry lollipop or cherry-flavored soda. Not weirder than scooping Nutella with bacon.” “True, but I’m hormonal.” Ha! Pregnancy hormones had nothing on the spike of anxiety that Martha created. “By the way, Tate,” Holly chimed in, “did you get a pole installed in the bedroom?” Now it was Tate blushing. “Yes.” “And?” She blushed even harder. She was six months pregnant, and although she had some limitations where the movements were concerned, Christy had seen her dance. Tate really knew how to make it work. She kicked ass. Pregnant and all. “James loved it. As in really loved it.” “On a scale of one to ten?” Holly asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “Thirty. And don’t worry,” Tate hurried to appease Christy. “I made him promise he won’t say a word to Cole about the classes.” Good, because Mike was right. If Cole found out, Kyra was going to need top-of-the-line insurance, especially with Amantis’s dancing crew and the security detail snooping around. “Although I don’t see the big issue. It’s for Cole. Whenever you’re ready, he’ll be the one enjoying the result of the classes, right?” “Right,” Christy mumbled. She’d started liking it, but considering how klutzy she felt at pole dancing, it was going to take a couple of decades before Cole got to see her. Holly turned her inquisitive gaze to Annie. “And your, uh, yoga swing? Scale of one to ten?” “Thirty,” she answered after a long pause, red as a frigging tomato. “Wow. Swings, dancing poles. The pregnant ladies here like their toys,” Holly said with a grin. Christy glanced at Annie and Tate, both fanning themselves. “We should change the subject. Before the kinky pregnant ladies faint.” “You’re a fine one to talk. And the cuffs tucked in the drawer in your nightstand?” “Annie!” “What? I’m being tactful. The cuffs were the only objects I recognized.” Okay, they were so banned from each other’s bedrooms. “Really?” Holly asked, looking intrigued as hell. “What kind of objects?” “We are deviating from the subject, people. We were talking about how to off my mom, remember?” Tate waved around. “That’s easy. We bring her here, lock her in the sauna, and turn it to high.” “It won’t work. She’s from LA. And she lived in Georgia for a while, chasing after some crocodile hunter. The heat’s nothing for her.” “Or now that we have plenty of props,” Holly said with a wink, “we could plant Tate’s dance pole somewhere in the forest and cuff Martha to it. Leave her for the wolves.” Poor wolves. Her mother would have them committing suicide in no time. Christy couldn’t do that to them. “Must be a simpler way. Can’t you just send her to hell?” Christy shrugged. It was easier said than done. Her mom had the nasty habit of doing something nice whenever Christy was reaching critical mass. She couldn’t send her to hell in good conscience. The girls couldn’t understand. Annie had a kick-ass mom. Tate too. Holly’s she didn’t know, but the messages between mother and daughter were hilarious, so she imagined their relationship was solid. People with great parents had no clue how difficult it was to deal with bad ones. “How long until she leaves?” “Still a while. Thirteen days, nine hours”—Christy reached for her cell—“twenty-five minutes and thirty-five seconds, to be exact.” Annie chuckled. “You keeping track?” “I have a countdown set.” Every twenty-four hours, an app sent her a yay-you-can-do-this message. “She’s leaving four days before Valentine’s Day. She wants to be in LA then, so that she can prepare for it.” “Four days in advance?” Holly asked. “What’s she planning on doing for her husband?” “For Fred? Nothing. She goes to make sure he gets her all that she wants.” “Oh boy.” “You can say that again. How he puts up with her, I don’t know.” Her smile-accept-and-walk-away technique was failing her big-time now that they were both under the same roof. Or maybe it was that she had gotten a taste for normal and supportive with Cole, and going back to mental was hard. “We should call Fred and get some pointers,” Holly suggested. “Thirteen days is a long time. Spending your and Cole’s first Valentine’s Day in jail wouldn’t be too much fun.” “Run to Vegas ahead of schedule. You’re going there anyway for your annual convention, right?” Annie asked. Tate frowned. “What convention?” “The geeky version of Valentine’s,” Annie said. “I was there once with her. Memorable. Not going ever again.” Christy rolled her eyes and turned to Holly and Tate. “There’s a Star Trek convention held in Vegas the weekend before Valentine’s every year.” Plus this year they had the premiere of a new Star Trek movie. “And no, I’m not going. Cole wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that. I’ve been dropping hints about it for a couple of months already, but he isn’t biting.” Holly patted her on the arm. “So no hanging out with your nerdy friends and stuck with your mom. That sucks.” Yep. Totally.
Bowen Series Reading Order
More than Meets the Ink (Bowen, #1) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1AddDA2 Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD iBooks: http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5 Kobo: http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC Heavy Issues (Bowen #2) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1vn91q6 iBooks: http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo Kobo: http://bit.ly/1DjiFbW Inked Ever After (Bowen, #2.5) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1yVIYkq Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1AddNYq Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ iBooks: http://bit.ly/1HB27mj Kobo: http://bit.ly/16duB52 To The Max (Bowen, #3) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1zSQoJ6 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1AgchDW Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1SVfbFg iBooks: http://apple.co/1No8poi All Romance ebooks: http://bit.ly/1KMsQZp
Giveaway
About The Author
Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff. While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances. She lives currently in Barcelona, Spain, with her husband and two daughters, although who knows, in no time she could be living at the Arctic Circle in Finland, breeding reindeer.
Spin Ruin
A Mafia Romance Two-Book Bundle By CD Reiss Release Date June 29, 2015
Synopsis
Rough sex. Dirty talk. Criminal activity. Cursing. Fisticuffs. Closed course. Professional driver. Do not try this at home.** Theresa Drazen wants to know one thing. Is there something wrong with her? Because from what she can see, she has money, brains, a body that does the job. Yet, she keeps getting shelved. Most recently, by her fiancé who happens to be the DA. And she'll get over it, really. No problem. She'll just have a nice, short encounter with a mysterious Italian named Antonio who may or may not be involved with some kind of alleged criminal activity...blah blah... Let's call a spade a spade. He's a mobster. Let's face a few more facts. He's hot. He's smart. And if anyone breathes on her the wrong way, he's got no problem beating their head against a Porsche until they're willing to lick up their own vomit to make it stop. Just about everything about that turns her on. Yeah. There's something wrong with her.
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Excerpt
I caught the scent again and looked in her direction, as if I could see the smell’s source. It could have come from anyone. It could have been the gorgeous black lady with the sweet smile. It could have been the plate of saucy meat that crossed my path. Could have been the waft of parking lot that came through the door before it snapped closed. But it wasn’t. I knew it like I knew tax code; it was him. The man in the dark suit and thin pink tie, the full lips and two-day beard. His eyes were black as a felony, and they stayed on me as his body swung into the booth. The smell had come from him, not the other man getting into the booth. It was in his gaze, which was locked on me, disarming me. He was beautiful to me. Not my type, not at all. But the slight cleft in his chin, the powerful jaw, the swoop of dark hair falling over his forehead seemed right. Just right. I swallowed. My mouth had started watering, and my throat had gotten dry. I got a flash of him above me, with that swoop of hair rocking, as he fucked me so hard the sheets ripped. He turned to say something to the hostess, and I took a gulp of air. I’d forgotten to breathe. I put my hands to my shirt buttons to make sure they were fastened, because I felt as if he’d undressed me.
Rule Releases on August 27th!
Pre-order available at the following retailers Amazon US - http://amzn.to/1GMy30w Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1GSN58e iBooks - http://apple.co/1E2iW7j Nook - http://bit.ly/1ItjaUH
About The Author
CD Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up, she’s at the well, hauling buckets. Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and sin in the city of Los Angeles. Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,” “literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood. If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine. Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads | Pinterest | Intagram |
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