Honor
By Jay Crownover Release Date October 18, 2016
Synopsis
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.
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Excerpt
NASSIR She harrumphed and slid off the desk so she was towering over me in those killer heels. I was glad she was back in her right skin. “Business only?” I nodded solemnly and ran a tired hand over my face. It was a deal with the devil, but we both knew she was going to make it anyway. “Very lucrative and profitable business only, and if for some reason the cops shut me down, I’ll return your investment plus fifty percent of my own.” “How much did you sink into this place? And how much do you expect me to buy in for?” I shrugged. “I spent enough to make it what I wanted and you can pay in the same Race did. Two hundred K. I’m the primary backer, so my word is law, but if you see something now working or a way I missed to bring more money in, we can have a discussion.” Race had actually put in double that amount, but I wasn’t about to tell her that, and no one had ever accused me of being honest. She whistled. “That’s a lot of money.” “You have it.” She would hate to know that I knew exactly what her bank balance was. It paid to have a computer hacker on the payroll. There wasn’t much about her I didn’t know, both inside and out. “I do have it. I just don’t know if I want to give it to you.” It sounded like she was taking about a lot more than money. “We open this weekend, so you don’t have much time to decide.” “I feel like I never had a choice. The second you showed up in Denver, this was all bound to happen because you always get your way.” I shook my head slightly. “Not always.” We both knew that. Her eyes sparked with charcoal flecks and she took a step closer so that she could bend down and put her hands on the arms of my chair. She leaned closer and closer until her mouth was hovering a mere millimeter away from mine. When she spoke, the words danced across my lips and tasted like victory and fate. “No, not always.” Her lips pressed into mine and I had to curl my hands around the arms of the chair to keep from grabbing at her. She teased the clamped seam of my lips with her tongue and lightly scraped her teeth across my bottom lip. I wanted to toss her backward on the desk and bury myself inside her with no finesse, just pure, animalistic lust. She brushed her lips back and forth and laughed lightly as I bit down on my already injured tongue to keep from reacting. If I mauled her now, it would undo any progress I might have made with her. he pulled back and reached out to run her finger over each of the high arches of my eyebrows. It was the softest, gentlest touch I had ever felt from another human being and it made my focus on her pulse even more heavily in my veins. “Fine. I’m in. I’ll write you a check.”
Giveaway
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. Website: http://www.jaycrownover.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJayCrownover?ref=hl Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/JayCrownover Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Crownover
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Jared
A Coyote Ridge/Dead Heat Ranch Crossover Novel By Nicole Edwards Released September 20, 2016
Synopsis
Jared Walker is a single dad who knows what it’s like to be burned by a woman. His ex-wife tormented him in a way that’s unforgivable. It makes sense that Jared doesn’t trust women. He’s not looking for love, but when his cousin Travis puts Jared in charge of the Walker family reunion, Jared just might find himself in over his head. In more ways than one. Hope Lambert has one goal in life. To keep Dead Heat Ranch prospering. From sun up to sun down, she has a single-minded focus working alongside her four sisters, the job isn’t always easy, but it’s definitely worth it. Hope is convinced she needs nothing more than what’s right in front of her. Until he walks into the stable. It’s easy to think you know what’s best for you. That is until your heart is put to the test. What happens when the cautious cowgirl and the sexy single dad come face to face? The chemistry threatens to scorch them both. Giving in is easy. Not falling in love is the hard part.
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JARED (Coyote Ridge/Dead Heat Ranch, 2) Prologue
Two and a half years ago “WHERE ARE YOU going?” Sable screamed, her voice grating on his last nerve. “I’m done. Fucking done, Sable,” Jared Walker informed his soon-to-be ex-wife. And that couldn’t come soon enough. The second his boss had fired him, telling Jared that he could no longer deal with his crazed wife stopping by unannounced every day trying to start a fight, Jared had decided he’d had enough. The guy wasn’t wrong to fire him. Hell, he’d been putting up with Sable’s bullshit far longer than he should have. She was jealous and spiteful and fucking selfish. Yes, that’s what she was. Damn it. Everything was just so fucked up. Jared wasn’t sure how things had gone to shit so quickly, but they definitely had. The woman he’d married had shed her skin not two weeks into their marriage, demanding that she be taken care of. The second that ring was on her finger and the marriage license was signed, Sable had changed from the easygoing, somewhat kindhearted woman to an ex-employee at the makeup counter at Macy’s to a fucking diva who wanted him to make her breakfast in bed on the weekend. No doubt about it, he’d been blinded by … what? What the hell had he seen in her? Even now, three years later, he had no clue what he’d been drawn to other than her smoking-hot body and her Hoover-worthy mouth. Oh, and she’d given him attention—batting her eyelashes and offering her relentless come-hither stare—something he’d been missing. Or thought he had anyway. In hindsight, the lack of attention from the opposite sex had been self-imposed. Jared had just turned thirty when they met, and he’d been going through the motions, trying to figure out where his life was headed and how he wanted it to go. Marriage had certainly been an idea he was looking forward to, should he find the right woman. Enter Sable Hillman, with her perfectly applied lipstick and fancy hair. She’d clearly walked into his life at the right time. Or the wrongtime, depending on how you looked at it. He was definitely an idiot. Sable didn’t want to work, but she didn’t want to stay home, either. She thought they belonged to the country club elite or some shit. He could see how she’d come to that conclusion. Jared’s parents were well off, and they’d set their children up accordingly. Jared had money—mostly family money—but he’d also been working since the day he turned sixteen. He hadn’t had a rough life, by any means, but his father had instilled in him the need to make a good living. Damn good thing his father had demanded he have a prenuptial agreement. Jared hadn’t thought it necessary, but at the last minute, he’d caved. For a second, he’d thought Sable was going to back out. He should’ve known better. The woman was more than willing to spend every penny he had while they were married. She didn’t need to wait until afterward. “Fuck you, Jared.” “No,” he turned to her. “Fuck. You. And every asshole who’s had the displeasure of fucking you over the last three fucking years.” Three years he’d been dealing with this shit. If it weren’t for the fact Sable had gotten pregnant, Jared would’ve been long gone. Only he’d stayed because of his son. Derrick was the highlight of every single day. Jared went to work every morning, and when he came home, Sable generally went out while he enjoyed the peace and quiet and time he got to spend with his boy. It was the perfect routine, and since it got Sable out of his hair, Jared never complained. “I want joint custody,” he informed her as he went to the closet and began tossing his clothes out. He was packing his shit and moving out. He had no choice. He would go stay in his parents’ guesthouse until the divorce was final. It would allow him to be close enough to Derrick so he could see him every other weekend and every Wednesday. “Ha!” Sable sneered. “Like that’s ever gonna happen.” Goddamn, that was going to hurt. He hated the idea of being away from Derrick for that long. He’d been hoping Sable would be level-headed about this, letting him spend time with his boy whenever he wanted. He should’ve known better. Jared cast an angry glare over his shoulder. “I’ll fight you for full custody if that’s what you want.” “Go ahead and try it,” she snapped. “Considering he’s not your kid, I’m not sure that’ll work out real well for you.” Jared spun around so fast Sable had to take a step back. “What did you say?” The impact of her words had caused his hands to shake, and there was a red haze clouding his vision, anger and… Damn, it felt a hell of lot like fear clouded his mind. Sable always said nasty shit to him. It seemed she got off on putting him down. Normally, he didn’t rise to the bait, but this… He hoped like hell she was lying. “You heard me. You think you’re all high and mighty. Derrick isn’t yours. You’re not his father. So fuck you, Jared. You don’t get shit out of this deal.” He had to sit down or his legs were going to give out. Jared managed to back up to the bed and drop down onto the mattress, staring at the woman he had vowed to love forever, a woman he no longer even liked. “I want a paternity test,” he insisted. That would prove that Derrick was his. He had to be. Sable rolled her eyes. “I’m marrying him.” Jared tried to process her words, but they didn’t make sense. “Derrick’s father. He’s been begging me to leave you. I should’ve done it before now. And yes, you’ll get your paternity test. I’ll prove to you that he ain’t yours.” She should’ve left before now? She wasn’t the one leaving, Jared was. “You’ll have nothing,” she spat. Jared held back his retort, not sure what he could say. The woman had managed to single-handedly rip his heart right out of his chest and grind it into dust. Derrick isn’t yours. The fact that his marriage had disintegrated … Jared could get over. Losing Derrick… That was a wound that would never heal. * * * Six months later “Despite the fact that the paternity test states you are not the father,” Edna Holloway—the expensive lawyer he’d hired—clarified, “Sable is willing to give you full custody.” Jared waited for her to continue. He was waiting for the “but.” There was always a “but.” “However, in exchange, she wants twenty-five thousand dollars.” “Done,” Jared said instantly. “Jared, you should spend some time thinking about this,” Edna said kindly. “Don’t need to. My name’s on his birth certificate. He’s my son. Find out where I need to wire the money.” Edna pulled a sheet of paper from the pile she’d brought with her. “I think we need to ask that she give up her parental rights. That will protect you going forward. She has already made it clear that she doesn’t want Derrick.” And by made it clear, Jared knew that Edna was referring to the fact that Sable had flat out told him that she didn’t have time for Derrick in her life. The man she’d claimed was Derrick’s father had insisted on a paternity test, also. The results had stated he was not the father. Which meant Sable had lied once again. The new man—some rich, older guy—in her life didn’t want kids, which meant Derrick had suddenly become expendable in her eyes. “I agree,” he told her. “Do what you need to do, and tell Sable I want this done immediately. While we’re waiting for the legal system to putter along and do their thing, I want him living with me. In Coyote Ridge.” Since he had moved to the small town where most of his extended family lived, in an attempt to put some distance between himself and Sable, Jared had started to build a life for himself. Although he wouldn’t be close to his parents, he wasn’t too far away. And he had a great job. Being in Coyote Ridge would also lessen the chance of him running into Sable again. She nodded, jotting down notes before removing her reading glasses and depositing them into her purse. “I’ll keep you apprised of the proceedings. I’ll ask that Sable relinquish custody over to you today.” She glanced at her watch. “Why don’t I try for four o’clock. Will you still be in town?” “Of course,” he said, his heart pounding. “Anything for Derrick.” Little did his lawyer know, but Jared would’ve given ten times that much to get his son back. Granted, there was absolutely no reason to let Sable know that. The manipulative bitch would only ask for more.
Did you know that JARED is a crossover novel?
It is officially the 2nd book in both the Coyote Ridge and Dead Heat Ranch series'. You not only get the sexy Walker family, but you also get the feisty Lambert sisters. Because of this, the entire Dead Heat Ranch series is currently on sale for $0.99 each and you can grab them HERE!
Come join us today only in the Nicole & Colt Edwards Group on Facebook for release day fun, games, and PRIZES!!!
Hooked By Brenda Rothert Release Date December 6, 2016 Synopsis From the author of the On the Line and Fire on Ice hockey romance series comes a sultry novel featuring a brooding NHL player who’s hell on skates—and the no-nonsense woman who forces him to clean up his act. Miranda: Even though I’m broke, putting myself through college, and working two jobs, I’m trying to make the best of it. Meanwhile, Jake Birch, hockey’s hottest bad boy, lives in a luxury hotel in downtown Chicago—and still complains about every little thing in his penthouse. But after I tell him off, instead of getting me fired, Jake requests me as his personal housekeeper. Then he starts flirting with me. Only I’m not flirting back . . . at least, I’m trying not to. Did I mention that he’s hockey’s hottest bad boy? Jake: I’ve met the best woman at the worst possible time. Miranda is the fire to my ice—a sexy, charmingly candid spark who breaks down my walls and reminds me what it’s like to feel again. But I’m being forced to date my team owner’s daughter to keep my job, so I can’t be caught with Miranda. Still, we’re getting closer—until Miranda finds out about my “girlfriend.” And that’s not the only secret I’ve been keeping. But Miranda’s the one I want . . . even if she doesn’t believe me. Pre-Order Links Excerpt Tony doesn’t have much to say this morning. He dismisses the staff and I stifle a groan when I look down at my assignment sheet and see I’ve got the penthouses again. Crap. I still feel guilty about the shirt I ruined in one of the penthouses yesterday. I also don’t want to run into another naked woman. I roll my cart of cleaning supplies onto the service elevator and debate whether I should knock out Jake the stripper fucker’s room first or put it off ’til last. Might as well get it out of the way. I knock on the door and announce myself more loudly than usual. “Housekeeping! Housekeeping coming in. Are there any naked people in here? Hello?” Nothing. I stood in the middle of the massive suite and look around. There’s a glass on the counter and a gray sweatshirt thrown over the back of a chair. “Hey.” The sound of a deep male voice makes me jump and screech. I actually screech, the cry caught in my throat before it escapes sounding more like a loud wail than a scream. A tall, well-built man is leaning backward out the bathroom door, just his head and shoulders showing. “What the hell?” I put a palm on my chest and will my heart to resume its normal pace. “This is my room,” the man answers. “Yeah, but . . . didn’t you hear me announcing myself?” He steps out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist and I see that “well built” doesn’t even begin to describe him. His arms, chest and stomach are ripped. I didn’t even know it was possible to have so much definition on ab muscles. “You like the view?” he asks, giving me a cocky grin and glancing down at his bare stomach. “Uh . . .” I clear my throat and look up at his eyes, which are a bright gray-blue. “No, I just . . .” His smile slips away. “What?” Apparently it’s been too long since I saw a man in a nothing but a towel. I can’t even think straight right now. “No,” I repeat, clearing my throat. “No, you don’t like the view?” “It’s okay, I guess.” That’s a lie, but I’m pretty sure this guy’s self-esteem will survive. He hmm’s with amusement. “Want me to drop the towel so you can get a closer look?” “No. No, definitely . . . no.” I shake my head for emphasis. “Okay,” he says, arching his brows and giving me a look that makes me sure he thinks I’m crazy. “Yes, I heard you announce yourself, but I need to talk to you so I didn’t want you to leave.” Oh God. He knows I stole his shirt. I give him an expectant look, trying to decide if I should own up to it or deny it. Deny, deny, deny. I can’t afford to lose this job. “You guys fucked up the stuff I requested,” he says, walking over to the suite’s kitchen area. I follow him, not noticing the outline of his very nice ass against the towel. Not noticing it at all. “I don’t want liters of Evian,” he says, gesturing at the bottles of water on the counter. “I want normal sized bottles. Sixteen ounces or whatever. And this”—he holds up a bottle of amber alcohol—“is not gonna work. I’m not a frat boy. I asked for Evan Williams 23 and I want Evan Williams 23. I drink a shot of 23 after every win. This is really important.” Not missing a beat, he moves on to the next thing. “I also need Irish Spring soap.” “Irish Spring?” He gives me an annoyed glare. “I’ve used that soap since high school. I hate that flowery shit you guys have in your bathrooms.” “And you want us to get these items for you?” “Right. I’ll pay for everything, plus your time. I’ve got a rigorous schedule and I don’t have time to run around shopping. My housekeeper usually takes care of this stuff.” Wow. I can see why this guy hooks up with random strippers. What woman would want to put up with him long term? About The Author
Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters. Website: http://brendarothert.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorbrendarothert/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrendaRothert Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/brendarothert/ Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrendaRothert Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TyGXds
Down Shift
A Driven Novel #8 By K. Bromberg Release Date October 4, 2016
Synopsis
The New York Times bestselling Driven series continues with a story about finding love where you least expect it... Behind the wheel, racing champion Zander Donavan is at the top of his game. But after too much excess in his personal life, he’s forced to step away. He needs to accomplish something all on his own—outside of his famous father, Colton Donavan’s, shadow. Getty Caster is running away from the abuse that clouds her past. She thinks she’s found the perfect escape—until she discovers a stranger in the beachside cottage she’d been promised. He’s undeniably sexy, but she’s there to heal. Alone. Before long though, fighting with each other turns into fighting their attraction. And giving into desire sets off a chain reaction that has their pasts colliding. With an unexpected love on the line, can they overcome the fallout to build a future?
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Excerpt
I force myself to look away because . . . well, because he’s a stranger. In my house. Naked. And oh my God, something is wrong with me, because I’m not running and calling 911 like I should. When his chuckle subsides, he brings his head back down, so I can see the tears in his eyes from laughter. “That thing is my cock, and since this is my bathroom and you seem to be attempting to seduce me in my house, I don’t think you have any right to tell me what to do.” And with that, he leans a hip against the counter and folds his arms across his chest, eyes locked on mine and one eyebrow lifted. Everything else is left hanging out there in the wind. “Your house? Seduce you?” At that point I realize I’m sputtering and shaking my head. “This is my house. You’re in my house.” Confusion drifts across his face and his jaw falls lax. “Hold up.” He lifts his hands in the hold on a minute position, drawing my eyes back to where they don’t want to be. If this whole situation weren’t so unbelievable, it would be comical, and yet as true as that is, I don’t seem to be laughing at all. “I think there seems to be some misunderstanding.” “No shit.” Sarcasm is my fallback and it doesn’t disappoint me now. A lot of good it does me, though, as I’m still doing the naked dance while trying to react to this surreal situation. The look of disdain he gives me at my comment earns him no points in my book. “While I’m digging the socks with your outfit,” he says with a smirk, eyes veering down and then back up to my strategically placed hands, “you should cover up.” I catch the towel he tosses me and immediately wrap it around myself. I’m certain my mismatching knee-high socks make a statement about me, but I’m beyond caring, because I’m still alone in my house with a strange man and have no answers as to how this has happened. With one hand clutching onto the towel at my collarbone, I use the other to motion to him. “You too.” A lightning flash of a grin glances across his lips. “Sorry, but you just took the only towel left.”
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 (Releasing 10/4/16)), and a short story titled UnRaveled. She is currently finishing up Sweet Cheeks a standalone novel out at the end of 2016. Her plans for 2017 include a sports romance duet (The Player (#1) and The Catch (#2)) and the Everyday Heroes series (Cuffed (#1), Combust (#2), and Cockpit (#3). 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. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads |Pinterest | Amazon Wide Open Spaces By Aurora Rose Reynolds Releases August 2016 Synopsis That moment your life changes. That moment that changes your life. That moment you love someone more than you love yourself. That was the moment we gave our son up for adoption and the moment I was left bare. A wide-open space that would forever be empty. There are moments that define you as a person, moments that prove just how strong you are, moments you push yourself to keep going forward when all you really want to do is give up. It was in one of those moments when I reached out and found him waiting for me. When Shelby Calder left home fifteen years ago, she never planned on returning to the Alaskan town she left behind. But after the death of her grandfather and a bitter divorce, she hopes going home will be a fresh start for her and her ten-year-old son. Zach Watters has made a lot of mistakes in his life. But when he sees Shelby Calder, looking more beautiful than ever, standing outside her childhood home, he promises himself that letting her go won't be a mistake he ever makes again. Some things never change and love is one of them. Chapter 1 Shelby Shutting off my car, I stare at the two-story house I used to call home. It looks the same as it did when I left. The deep blue is still vibrant, even more so now against the backdrop of the gray sky behind it. The white porch is still welcoming, with flowers hanging from the banister. My grandmother and I would spend hours planting flowers in those boxes during the summer. When she passed away during my sophomore year of high school, I made sure to keep up the tradition in her memory. It looks like, in my absence over these last fifteen years, someone else had taken over the job. Looking at the bright blooms growing wild, hanging over the sides of the boxes, I wonder if Granddad hired someone to plant them for him when he left to live in Florida. He never mentioned that he cared about the flowers we planted. Honesty, I don’t remember him mentioning them. Growing up, I didn’t even think he noticed, but now, looking at the blooming buds that are artfully arranged, I know they meant something to him after all. “Mom?” Turning my head, I look at my son Hunter and force a smile as aching pain and regret slice through my chest. “Sorry, honey. I spaced out. Do you want to unpack tonight, or do you want to wait until tomorrow, kiddo?” Looking over his shoulder, he eyes the boxes and suitcases piled in the back then looks at me. I hate the sadness I see in his eyes. I hate I’m the cause of his pain. I know he misses his father already, and I know that at ten years old, he doesn’t understand why we’re no longer together even if it’s been over two years since we separated and divorced. “Tomorrow,” he grumbles, and I feel that ache in my chest expand. He hates me for moving him across the country. Away from his friends, away from everything he knew. And I hate myself a little bit, too, for failing miserably at keeping my family together. I just hope this move will be a new start for us. “Tomorrow,” I agree softly, unhooking my belt and opening the door. Rounding the hood of the van, Hunter has already made it to the porch and is waiting at the top of the stairs, with his eyes pointed over my shoulder. Stopping, I look behind me as rain soaks through my clothes. I can’t believe how much the town has changed and grown. When I’d left home, you could see the sound from the front porch of my grandparents’ home. Now, the view is blocked by houses that have been built up side-by-side across the road. The street looks more like a New York City block, rather than a street in small-town Alaska. “Is it always raining?” Hunter’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I turn back toward him and take the steps slowly, noticing they are rotting out in a few spots. Something I will have to fix soon. “Not always, but this is a rainforest, so I guess the answer in some ways is yes,” I tell him, when I make it up to the covered porch. His brows draw together over his blue eyes, making him look like his father, as he asks, “This is a rainforest?” “It is.” I want so badly to reach out and run my finger down his cheek, but I keep my hand locked at my side. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but some time ago, he stopped wanting my affection. Stopped being my little boy. “Really?” he asks curiously, with wide eyes. “It doesn’t look like a rainforest,” he states, and he’s right; it doesn’t look like what you might imagine a rainforest would look like. “It doesn’t look like one, but it is all the same.” I smile, and his eyes move over my face then to the view, and his face loses the curiosity it held a moment ago. He turns, muttering, “Whatever.” Biting my lip, I take the key the lawyer mailed me out of the front pocket of my jeans, put it in the lock, and turn. The door opens with a loud creak and dust rises up from the floors. A loud alarm sounds, making us both jump. Running into the house, I look frantically for some kind of alarm system, finally finding the small white box off the door in the kitchen. Flipping the panel open, I stare at the numbers. “What’s the code?” Hunter yells over the siren, covering his ears. “I don’t know,” I yell back, pressing in every single number combination I can think of, but none of them work. “Is it in the papers in the car?” “Maybe,” I yell, then run for the door and down the stairs to the van. Swinging open the back door, I shove three boxes out of the way before finding the one I’m looking for. Ripping off the tape, I shuffle through the contents and scan the papers the lawyer sent, searching for the code, but stop and look over the hood of the van when the alarm goes quiet. “What was the code?” I ask Hunter, when he steps out onto the porch. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the house, like he’s waiting for someone to come out, which makes me frown. “Did it just stop?” I question, slamming the van door. His eyes come back to me and he shakes his head then starts to open his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by a deep voice. “I turned it off.” It takes one breath to realize who just stepped out of my grandparents’ house. One breath for every moment I spent with the man standing before me to flash through my head. Two seconds for me to feel my world come to a stop. The boy I once knew is gone. There’s nothing boyish about Zach Watters anymore. His jaw is now sharp, the stubble on it giving him a rugged look while accentuating his full lips. His dark hair has silvered around the edges, drawing attention to his expressive hazel eyes that look like they hold a thousand stories. His red and black plaid shirt is stretched tight across broad shoulders, giving a glimpse of the muscles it’s covering. He’s still every bit as beautiful as he once was, only more so now that time has aged him, taking him from a handsome boy to a gorgeous man. Swallowing, I look at my son then back again. “Thanks,” I whisper, and Zach’s eyebrows pull together as he sweeps his gaze over me. I have no doubt that I too have changed, but unlike him, time hasn’t been good to me. I’ve gained a few too many pound from eating my feelings over the last year. My skin has lost its youthful glow, and my hair has grown out at the roots without my bi-monthly maintenance appointments. “Shelby?” he asks, but all I can do is confirm with a nod, since my mouth has dried up and I can’t find my voice. “Jesus.” His eyes widen as he looks down at Hunter then back toward me. “What are you doing here?” “My… my son Hunter and I are moving in,” I stutter, caught off guard by his presence. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I wouldn’t see him when I moved home, but I had convinced myself that seeing him would be on my terms, or sporadic at best. “What?” he whispers, leaning back on his boots, crossing his arms over his chest. Ignoring his question, I start to move back toward the stairs, asking, “Do you mind giving me the code for the alarm? I’m sure it’s somewhere in the papers the lawyer sent, but...” I stop and look to the left when Zach’s name is called. Standing on the porch of the house next door is a woman I know he got with a few months after I left. A woman he married soon after she gave birth to their twins. A woman I used to call my friend. A woman I now hate. I absently hear him say something to her, but the nausea turning my stomach and the sadness prickling my skin have me moving quickly up the steps, focusing on not falling over as I move past him. “Never mind about the code. I’m sure I’ll find it. Thanks for shutting off the alarm,” I mumble, as I walk through the door. “Mom.” “Come on, honey. Let’s have a look around, and then we need to get to the store.” “Mom,” Hunter repeats, sounding confused. I plaster a fake smile on my face. “The pizza place we drove past has the best pizza I’ve ever tasted. We could do that for dinner.” “Mom.” “Right here, honey.” I laugh, even though that laugh feels like glass edging down my windpipe. Studying me for a long moment, he finally mutters, “Pizza sounds good. I’m gonna call Dad before we go, and tell him we’re here.” “Sure,” I agree, watching him pull out his cell phone and walk toward the kitchen. I didn’t agree that he needed a cell phone at his age, but like all things with his dad, there was never any kind of conversation. He didn’t ask what I thought about it; he just did what he wanted to do. I hear a familiar throat clear. “You’re back?” Zach asks from behind me, making my shoulders slump forward and my eyes slide closed briefly. “Yeah.” I turn to face him and wrap my arms around my waist, feeling my stomach twist into knots. When I left town, we didn’t fight, didn’t yell at each other, didn’t say things we would end up regretting one day. I just knew there was too much pain between us to make what we had left work, and Zach, knowing the same, didn’t put up a fight when I told him my plans. “You're staying here?” he asks, and I nod. Running a hand over his head as his eyes move to the right, where Tina had been moments ago, before bringing his gaze back to mine. “The code for the alarm is one, two, three, four.I told Pat to change it, but you know Pat,” he mutters, and I nod, knowing exactly how stubborn Gramps was. Shoving his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, his voice drops. “I’m really sorry about Pat.” “Thanks.” I hold myself a little tighter. His eyes drop to my arms around my waist and soften before moving up to meet mine once more. “If you need anything, I’m next door.” He lifts his chin in that direction, and my world stops again. “Pardon?” I breathe. “I live next door.” Okay, maybe I should have guessed that, since Tina was over there, but I didn’t, and this is not good… as in really not good. There is not one damn thing I can do about it, though, unless I want to load Hunter back into the van and live out of it for the next year or so, which I don’t think will win me any brownie points with my son. “Cool,” I whisper pathetically, with nothing else to say. Something familiar-looking and soft slides through his features, making my stomachache twist again, but this time in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. “Well…” I pause, needing this encounter to be over. “Thanks again for turning off the alarm. I wish we had time to catch up,” I lie. “But I need to get to the store before it closes, and then I need to get Hunter some food. Growing boys don’t do well without food,” I ramble, as I put my hand to the door, wanting so badly to shove it closed. “Sure.” He nods then looks over my shoulder, into the house. “Nice meeting you, Hunter.” “You too—” Hunter looks between Zach and me. “Mr. Watters, honey,” I mutter, answering his unspoken question, as he comes to stand at my side with his cell phone in his hand. “You too, Mr. Watters.” Zach’s eyes come to me and his face softens once more. “See you around, Shelby.” “Yeah, see you around,” I lie again, since I plan to pretend he doesn’t exist from this moment forward. I wait, even though I don’t want to, until he is walking away to close the door then stand there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. “How do you know him, Mom?” Hunter asks. “When I was younger,” I say, turning to face him, “we were friends.” I shrug, looking toward the stairs. “My room used to be in the attic—it’s the best room in the house—and if you make it there before me, I’ll let you have it.” I raise my brows before taking off in a sprint up the stairs, listening to my son, who I haven’t heard laugh in weeks, giggle as he runs up the stairs behind me. “Wow, this is awesome.” Looking over my shoulder at Hunter I smile as he walks into the room with wide eyes. “I told you it’s the coolest room in the house.” I used to love hanging out up here when I was a teenager. The vastness of the space, with its angled ceilings and four large skylights, was a cool place to spend time. Looking at my son now, I can see the excitement in his eyes as he wanders around the room. “Do you think I could get a telescope?” he asks, looking up at the cloud-covered sky through one of the skylights. “Definitely.” I bump my shoulder with his as I walk past him toward the couch in the corner that’s covered with a sheet and pull it off. “We may also want to find a cover for this thing while we’re at it,” I say, looking from the floral-covered couch to his scrunched up face. “Yeah.” He nods, moving to the bed, where he rips off the sheet that is covering the mattress. “I can’t wait to tell Dad about this. He’s going to think it’s so cool,” he mutters, and I bite my tongue to keep from saying, No, your dad will definitely not think it’s cool. Max, Hunter’s father, grew up wealthy. He never owned anything that had been used. Even when we got married, he insisted I sell the Victorian house I bought when I graduated college, wanting instead for us to buy a newly built house in a cliché subdivision, where all of his friends lived. Shortly thereafter, he insisted I sell all of my old furniture, things I had bought secondhand and refurbished over the years. At the time, I was blinded by hope and love, so I didn’t think anything about it. But over time, I slowly realized I was no longer the person I used to be. I had turned into a trophy wife who lived in a show home and neither of us had any real character. “Mom,” Hunter calls, bringing me out of my thoughts, and I turn to look at him and notice he has a stack of photos in his hand. “Who’s this?” “That’s my mom,” I say softly, while walking over to where he’s sitting on the bed, holding out a picture of my mom and me. In the photo, we’re sitting outside on the porch, with our arms wrapped around each other, smiling at the camera. “You look like her,” he says thoughtfully. “You have her eyes and hair.” “You think so?” I ask, looking at my mom, who had to have been about my age when the photo was taken. She was beautiful, with long dark blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the world. “Yeah.” He nods then looks at me, and asks quietly, “Do you miss her?” “Every day.” I nod, taking the photo from his hands. “She gave the best hugs,” I say, fighting back the tears I feel creeping up my throat. My mom and dad both died in a plane crash when I was fifteen. My father was the owner and pilot of a local adventure company, and he had taken my mom with him to drop off supplies to some men who were bear hunting out at one of the islands. On their way back into town, the weather shifted, and their plane went down on one of the mountains. Neither of them survived. That’s when I moved to Cordova to live with my dad’s parents. “Do you have any pictures of your dad?” I pause, trying to recall if I’ve ever really spoken to Hunter about my parents, if Max ever asked about them, but I can’t think of a single time. “There are a few downstairs on the wall. I’ll point them out to you.” I lean into him a little then stop when his arm wraps around my shoulders, surprising me. “I love you, kid,” I whisper, not surprised when he doesn’t say it back, but happy that his arm tightens ever so slightly. “I’m starving.” He chuckles releasing me when his stomach growls loudly, breaking the moment. “We can’t have that.” I laugh, standing from the bed. “Let’s go to Joe’s. Hopefully, the pizza is still awesome. If not, you’re gonna have to suffer and eat it anyway, ‘cause the store is probably closed by now. “Is there such a thing as bad pizza?” “I guess we’ll find out,” I murmur, and then head out of the room and down the stairs, grabbing my purse as we leave. When we make it to Joe’s, I find nothing has changed in the years I’ve been gone. The owner Joe, an older Korean gentleman, is still in the back making the pizzas, and his wife Kim is still working the counter, gossiping about everything and everyone. While we wait for our pizza, Kim talks my ear off, telling me about the people in town, including Zach, who she informs me is not only a cop, but also the sheriff. She also tells me that Zach is single. He and Tina supposedly got divorced nine years ago, and Zach has had full custody of both his kids since then. I tell myself I don’t care that Zach is no longer with Tina, but I still feel some relief knowing I won’t have to witness seeing them together. “Can I sleep in my room tonight?” Hunter asks, as I finish off my third slice of pizza and wipe my mouth with a paper towel. “I don’t mind, but everything in the house needs to be washed. So if you want to sleep up there, we have to get your stuff from the van.” “I’ll get it, and then we can bring in everything else too.” “You want to clean out the van?” I ask, not at all excited about lugging stuff up three flights of stairs. “Yeah.” He nods again, taking his half of the pizza box lid that he used as a plate to the trash bin. “If that’s what you want,” I agree, regretting those words an hour later as I head out for the last box. My arms and legs are tired from carting everything inside and up the stairs. I haven’t worked out in the last year, and I can feel it now as every muscle in my body protest. Stopping when I hear a door close, I hold the box in my hands closer to my chest and look toward the house next door. I spot a handsome blond boy, who looks a lot like Zach, hopping down the steps, with Tina following close behind. Ducking down, I hide and watch them as they get into an old pickup truck, only coming out of hiding when they drive off. Having over fifteen years to deal with the adoption of Samuel should make it easier to see Zach’s other children, but it doesn’t. I still feel bitter about the situation. I know it’s the fact that Zach’s children were born a little over a year after Samuel, meaning Tina got pregnant not long after I left town. So not only did Zach have a relationship with Tina, but he built a family with her and kept the kids they had together. Heading back into the house with the final box, I wonder how I’m going to do what I’ve been doing for the last fifteen years. It was easy to block out thoughts of Zach when I was gone, but now that I’m back and living next door to him, I wonder if it will be as easy to ignore the feeling in my chest that coincides with thoughts of him. ~*~*~ Grabbing my quilt from the end the my bed, I carefully balance my Kindle and glass of wine in one hand as I open the sliding glass door in my room and step out onto the balcony. Tonight is one of the first nights it hasn’t rained since we moved in, and I have been looking forward to sitting outside under the stars with a good book all day long. Grabbing my glass, I take a sip then look to the left when the sound of rock music starts up and light flutters across the back deck next door, making me wonder if Zach’s room is off the balcony like mine. Pushing that thought away, I turn on my Kindle then proceed to get lost in someone else’s happily ever after. “Shelby.” Jumping, some of the contents from the glass in my hand sloshes out over the side and runs down my fingers as I swing my head to the left, where Zach is leaning on the banister, his eyes on me. A short glass full of dark liquid is in his hands, and the light casts a glow behind him. “You scared the crap out of me,” I gripe, holding my free hand over my rapidly beating heart. “I’ve been standing here awhile,” he mutters, then takes a swig of his drink. “I thought you would have noticed.” He rolls the glass between his hands while looking at me intently, making me fight the urge to squirm in my chair. “When I’m lost in a good book, the world could crash down around me and I wouldn’t notice.” I shrug, taking a sip of wine, using the moment of reprieve as an excuse to look away from him, but realizing for the first time that I don’t know the man standing across from me. Yes, he looks a little like the guy I dated years ago, but he also seems more intense, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s definitely not the easygoing kid I dated in high school. “How are you guys settling in?” Pulling my legs out from under me, I rest my Kindle on the edge of my lap and turn to face him fully while adjusting the blanket. “It’s going to take a little bit to get everything cleaned up. I didn’t know Gramps was such a hoarder until now. I think I’ve thrown out about ten thousand issues of National Geographic, along with a hundred empty boxes and every single item you can possibly buy from an infomercial,” I reply, then smile when he laughs a deep rumbling laugh and leans a little farther over the railing between us, causing another plaid shirt—this one blues and yellows—to tighten across his wide chest. “You didn’t keep them? You never know when you might need an automatic potato peeler.” “I thought about it, but if I did, I wouldn’t have anywhere to put my shoes, since all of it was stacked up on the floor in his closet, everything unopened.” I smile, watching him grin for a moment before the smile slides away and his eyes move beyond me to the forest that sits behind the house. “I’m gonna miss him. I know he’s been gone from town for years, but I’ll miss our talks,” he mutters, then looks up at the sky for a moment before meeting my gaze once more. “Why’d you come back? Last time I talked to Pat, he told me you were planning on following him down to Florida.” His words catch me off guard, since Gramps never told me he kept in contact with Zach. But then again, I never asked. I shouldn’t be surprised they kept in touch, since they we’re close when I was home, and were obviously neighbors before Gramps moved to Florida. Plus, Zach is the sheriff in town. Yet, it still feels strange that he knows about me, while I know nothing about him. “I was.” I let out a breath, adjusting the blanket around my shoulders. “But I had to wait until…” I trail off, not wanting to talk about my divorce to anyone, especially not him. “Then when Gramps passed away, there was nothing for me in Florida, so I decided to come back here instead.” “You didn’t want to stay in Seattle?” “No, I needed something different, so when I found out Gramps left me his house, I just knew I needed to come back here,” I whisper the truth. Ever since I read the will and found out this house was mine to do with as I please, I had a feeling in my gut that I couldn’t get rid of. Something telling me that I needed to come back here. “This is a good town,” he murmurs, but the look in his eyes is saying something I can’t quite figure out. “This is the last place I remember being really happy. I hope that I can make it that way for Hunter,” I say quietly, and his face softens. “He looks like you.” His words and tone catch me by surprise and I sit up a little taller. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be sitting on my granddad’s deck in the middle of the night talking to Zach about anything. Definitely not about my son. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw his dad,” I return honestly. “When he was a baby, he looked like me, but not any more.” “He has your eyes and your smile.” He pauses, taking a drink from his glass. “He seems like a good kid.” “He’s the best kid.” I take a sip of wine, trying to keep whatever it is I’m feeling right now in check. “I… I think I saw your son. Um, the other day. He looks like you,” I tell him, wanting to take the words back after I say them, because I don’t want him to think I was spying on him. “He looks like his mom, but has my personality, which I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not. My daughter, Aubrey, on the other hand, looks like me, but is sweet down to her core. Where she gets that sweetness, I have no fucking clue.” “Oh.” I bite my lip, trying to figure out what to say to that. The Zach I knew was a good guy, sweet even. Tina, however, was mostly bitch, and I honestly don’t even know why we were friends. Then again, growing up here, there weren’t a hundred girls to choose from. My graduating class had five girls in it, and none of them liked Tina, which meant none of them really liked me either. “I better go in,” he says abruptly, cutting into my thoughts, standing to his full height. “I need to be to the station early tomorrow.” “Sure… uh… have a good night.” The urge to say something that will make him stay hits me hard, and it takes everything I have in me to keep my mouth shut. “You too, Shelby. And be careful when you’re out here reading. Louie’s out and about around this time of night, searching for food.” “Louie?” I question, scrunching up my nose. Cordova never had homeless people before, and I can’t imagine it would now. “Louie’s a black bear. Normally, he sticks to the woods, but he’s been known to nap on the decks now and then. “Oh, man.” I jump up, looking around for any sign of Louie, not sure how I could forget there are bears out here, since we are in Alaska. “What’s funny?” I frown, turning to face him when I hear his deep laughter. “You’re in Alaska, babe. You lived here for years. You know there are bears out in those woods.” He nods to the trees. Babe. Why, oh, why did that word make butterflies erupt in my stomach? “I know that, but I forgot.” I shake my head and watch his face soften once again. “Still sweet as pie,” I think I hear him say, but can’t be sure, because his voice dropped to a low rumble that I felt skid across my skin. “Well, I’m gonna go in too,” I blurt, picking up my Kindle and wine glass. “Have a good night.” And with that, I duck my head and go back into my room. Closing the door I lock it behind me then hurry and get into bed where I try to forget once more about Zach Watters. ~~**~~ “Hello?” I answer the phone, still half asleep, then look at the clock and notice that even though it’s light out, it’s barely 6:00 a.m. “Shelby, I’ve called three times,” Max, my ex-husband, says into my ear, and I pull my pillow over my head with thoughts of suffocating myself with it. “It’s only six, Max. I haven’t gotten out of bed,” I grumble, tossing the covers back and sitting up. “What’s going on?” “I want to fly out there this weekend,” he states, and I fight the urge to toss my phone across the room or scream at the top of my lungs. “This weekend?” I verify, rubbing my face. “We haven’t even been here a week.” “I have a few days off and would like to see Hunter.” I sigh, considering him and his request. “Our stuff is going to be delivered in two days. Then I start my new job next week, and Hunter has swi—” “You’re not keeping my boy from me,” he cuts me off, and I can tell by his tone that he’s mad and likely pulling at his ever-present tie in annoyance. Something I make him do often. “I’m not saying you can’t see him, Max,” I clarify, wishing I had at least one cup of coffee before this conversation. “I’m just explaining to you that we’re trying to get settled in here. Can you wait a few weeks before you come out?” “Such fucking bullshit. I can’t believe you moved to Alaska, of all goddamn places. A boy should have his dad in his life.” My heart stutters and I feel my pulse skyrocket. We didn’t have a custody battle, but I wouldn’t put it past Max to take me to court to gain custody of Hunter if I step out of line in his eyes. “Max,” I soften my voice as I walk to the kitchen, “you know we talked about this. You can come see him anytime, and in a couple years, he can fly out to see you whenever he has a break,” I say, then drop my voice even lower. “We agreed on him living with me at least until he’s sixteen. After that, he can choose who he wants to live with.” “I miss you both.” He sighs, making me roll my eyes. I know he doesn’t miss me. I know this, because he’s been dating woman after woman since I asked for a separation. For all I know, he was dating before that. Hell, the last year I spent under the same roof as him, he hardly spared me a glance. Hunter later suffered from his lack of attention, when we lived in the same town after our separation. With Max, it’s always about him getting his way. “Max, please just wait a few more weeks, and then you can come and stay as long as you like,” I offer, the words leaving a horrid taste in my mouth. I will do whatever I have to in order to keep my son, though, including putting up with his dad in my childhood home for more than a few days. “Fine, when?” Closing my eyes, I whisper, “Next month. Whenever you like. Just let me know, so I can make sure I don’t make plans for Hunter. I know there are a few camps here he’s interested in.” “Fine. Where is he now? I called his cell phone, but he didn’t pick up.” “Sleeping. Like I said, it’s only six here, and he was up late talking to his friends back in Seattle on Skype.” “You really shouldn’t let him stay up so late, Shelby,” he scolds, sounding disapproving, and again, that’s not a surprise. “It’s summer, Max, and his ‘late’ is ten, not three in the morning,” I mutter, wondering how the hell I put up with him for so many years. “I’ll have him call you when he gets up.” “Don’t tell him I’m coming out. I want to tell him that myself.” “Will do,” I grumble, looking at the coffee pot and begging it to hurry up. “Talk to you later.” “Talk to you later,” I agree, setting the phone down on the counter. I make myself a cup of coffee and take it out to the back deck, drinking it while the morning sun beats down on me. 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 Anti-Stepbrother By Tijan Release Date September 12, 2016 Synopsis He told me to 'settle, girl.' He asked if 'something was wrong with me?' He said I was an ‘easy target.’ That was within minutes when I first met Caden Banks. I labeled him an *sshole, but he was more than that. Arrogant. Smug. Alpha. He was also to-die-for gorgeous, and my stepbrother’s fraternity brother. Okay, yes I was a little naive, a tad bit socially awkward, and the smallest amount of stalker-ish, but if Caden Banks thought he could tell me what to do, he had another thing coming. I came to college with daydreams about being with my stepbrother, but what would happen if I fell for the anti-stepbrother instead? Pre-Order Excerpt The sun shone into the room, and it took me a few moments to realize where I was. I didn’t recognize the king-size bed, or the black sheets, but then Caden walked past the open door and all the memories flooded into place. I slept at his place. I glanced around the bed… I slept in his bed! “Your alarm’s about to go off in ten minutes,” Caden called from the doorway. He had a cup of coffee in hand and wore only jeans. I tried to keep my eyes front and center, but I lost. The tattoos were a nice little zig-zag pattern, pulling my gaze down, all the way down. Caden’s slow, smooth chuckle told me he knew what I’d just done. My cheeks only warmed a little. I shot him a look, falling back to the pillow. “I feel like this should be the first skip day of my school career.” “You’ve never skipped before?” I shook my head, rolling it side to side on the pillow. “Am I missing out? Should I embrace my inner deviant?” He smirked. “You can skip a class for any reason in the world. It’s your life.” I sat up, eyeing that coffee. “You were supposed to be the bad influence.” His eyebrow lifted. “I’m not selling it enough?” He lifted his cup. “You want some coffee?” “I’m wondering if today is the day I try coffee too.” “You’ve never had coffee?” “I’m beginning to think I’m lame.” I thought about it. “Really lame.” “You slept at some guy’s house last night. Think of it that way.” His smirk was back. “Not so lame now.” I could do one better. “I slept at a fraternity house.” “And you drank beer.” “It was the second night in a row that I drank beer.” “See? Not so lame after all.” “You’re right.” I sat up. “I’m halfway to total badass.” He grinned. “We cuddled last night, and you could think of it as dry humping. You almost got some last night.” Except I hadn’t, and we were in the friend zone. Why were my hands curling around the covers into tight balls? I glanced down and forced them to loosen, then shrugged, trying to be the nonchalant badass I was. “You carried me to bed. Almost the same thing.” Suddenly, the joking was gone, and his eyes burned. I could feel his heat from across the room, and my body reacted, instantly warming even before he said a word. “Nothing’s the same as sliding inside,” he murmured after a moment. “The feel of being in there, feeling that clench around you, knowing you can push as deep as you want, as hard or gently as you want. Nope. I’ve gotta step off the joke train for a moment here. Nothing is remotely the same as that feeling.” Fuck. My pulse spiked. He tossed me a look. “Maybe I’ll cop a feel the next time.” I pretended to groan. “One more notch on my badass peg. You better cop a feel next time.” “Is that all I am to you? A notch on the bedpost? I feel so used, Stoltz.” Okay. My last name. We were back on familiar ground here. But my grin was still a little shaky. “Get used to it, Banks. I’m only disguised as this plain Jane. Inside there’s a wild woman just waiting to be let loose.” He didn’t reply. He stared at me for a few more seconds, then straightened from the doorway. “There’s nothing plain about you, Summer.” About The Author I didn't begin writing until after undergraduate college. There'd been storylines and characters in my head all my life, but it came to a boiling point one day and I HAD to get them out of me. So the computer was booted up and I FINALLY felt it click. Writing is what I needed to do. After that, I had to teach myself how to write. I can't blame my teachers for not teaching me all those years in school. It was my fault. I was one of the students that was wishing I was anywhere but at school! So after that day, it took me lots of work until I was able to put together something that resembled a novel. I'm hoping I got it right since someone must be reading this profile! And I hope you keep enjoying my future stories .Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads Something To Believe In The Renegade Saints Book Four By Ella Fox Release Date August 16, 2016 Synopsis A rock star with millions of adoring fans. A country girl with a broken heart. Rock star, Tyson Allen, is the hilarious, in-your-face bass player for one of the world's most popular bands. Behind his funny-guy exterior hides a tragic past full of unbearable horror. After turning to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain, Tyson hit rock bottom on a New York City sidewalk. For several minutes, Tyson Allen was gone--dead. And now, he's trying to rebuild a life he nearly lost. He found a way to move forward and live life—a way he was comfortable with. All was going according to plan until he met the new assistant for his band. In an instant, everything changes. Daisy Hammond has a slew of her own tragedies. And the last thing she needs is a crush on one of America's rock legends. But unlike Tyson, her kind and generous heart refuses to push people away. Working with the band isn't easy as Tyson doesn't want anything to do with her. Despite his standoffish and rude demeanor, Daisy can't deny the pull she has for him. Determined to stay away from the bass player with an attitude, she goes about her business without getting in his way. But one night, their desire for one another erupts. Now it's up to Daisy to pull Ty out of his shell before the tour ends and they go their separate ways. Will she find a way to break down Ty's walls before it's too late? Excerpt Prologue Rock bottom was an alley in New York City where I, a strung out junkie asshole, pissed myself and twitched like a bitch as I lost control of my body. It seemed fitting considering how I’d lost control of everything else. My path had always been leading me to a busted piece of concrete beside a filthy dumpster of rank smelling garbage. For me, being a junkie was all about one thing—the fucking sound that defined my life. It was a return to home, but getting there was a raging bitch with sharp claws and razor-like teeth. It hurt like a motherfucker and broke what was left of my spirit piece by miserable piece, but I did it anyway. Pay to fucking play, I thought. Honestly, back then I’d have shot up battery acid if it meant I’d have five goddamn seconds of peace. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. I could feel my heartbeat of course, but when I was high, I could hear it, too, thump-thump-thumping in my ears. It was a steady series of bass notes that reminded me of better times. Of home. Of safety and laughter. Later my home became the stuff of nightmares, a prison of terror and mind-fucking cruelty that could never, ever be forgotten. That part of my life I was able to tap into without drugs, since it lived and breathed inside of me every minute of every day—until I started shooting up. Once that shit hit my veins I’d cruise to numb before floating off. It fucking sucked, especially the aftermath, but those few seconds of nothing were like an oasis in the desert of my life. It was killing me, but I didn’t care. Of course, I’d been banking on my lifetime not being very long at all. Which is why I wasn’t even a little upset as I twitched on the sidewalk and sensed death hovering over me. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. I hadn’t just raced toward my own demise; I’d also been busy inviting it in. Hell, I’d all but sent out engraved invitations and by my estimation, death had been passing me over for far too long. As I twitched on the pavement, ready to have it all be over, I felt something around me shift. I knew she was there because I’d smelled her Loves Baby Soft perfume. When she spoke, she was right next to me, close enough for me to feel her hand when it covered mine. I also felt her head as it set down on my chest, just over my heart. “I love this sound,” she murmured. For a moment, her sweet voice warmed the coldest place inside of me. My eyes were at half-mast as I tried and failed to let her know I remembered how much she loved the sound of a beating heart. It wasn’t something I could ever forget. “Dad always said the rhythm of the heart was musical.” My heart, which I imagined was like a sandbox made of broken and worn down glass, cracked in my chest. I wanted to respond, but words were too difficult to form. My tongue wouldn't cooperate. “I know what you’re doing, and you have to stop,” she whispered. “This isn't okay. It’s almost too late.” God, I hoped so. Ba...dum Ba...dum Ba...dum “It doesn't sound good.” She was right. The sound was slow and unsteady. I heard the concern in her voice, but couldn't find it in me to care about the state I was in. She expelled a heavy sigh. “What’s coming is going to hurt,” she warned. I dealt in hurt the way some people dealt cards, so threatening pain was laughable. I was on a first name basis with it, which meant it didn’t scare me in the least. It had been years since I’d felt anything consistently other than agony. I tried to fake it sometimes, tried to pretend I was experiencing happiness—but when I was alone, all of the subterfuge disappeared. I wasn't happy and I didn’t see how I ever could be. Not with what I’d seen. Not after what I’d lost. Ba. Dum. Ba. Dum. Ba. Dum. The rhythm of the beat was gone. In its absence was a series of discordant thumps without rhyme or reason. Suddenly, light surrounded me. I was relieved because it surely meant my hell was almost over. I wasn't even a little bit sad. The light brought no warm feeling with it, and I thought I heard terse sounding voices, but I didn’t let it upset me. Everyone knew when you saw the light, you were meant to go toward it. Finally, I thought, I was going home. “It doesn’t work this way,” she told me. “Doing this—you don't get to go where you want to go. It’s not your time.” I wanted to answer, but I couldn't open my mouth. Why wasn’t it ever my time? Why couldn’t I make the choice? “Nothing can change what happened,” she said firmly. “Stop trying to check out of life, Tyson.” My mind was screaming in agony and I wanted to tell her she didn’t know what it was like to have gone through what I did. She didn’t know how it felt to be so horribly alone. “I’m always with you,” she assured me. “We all are. Stop chasing death and start living—if not for yourself, then for me. For us.” I think I whimpered then, like a small boy hiding from monsters beneath his bed. “Help is here,” she announced. I felt her lips against my cheek, and it made me want to cry. I didn't want help—I needed it all to be over. It felt like the end was close—I couldn't hear my heartbeat anymore. “You’ll never see me again if you don't fight,” she told me. “Stop trying to kill yourself and realize that life is a gift.” If I’d been able to, I would have cursed. It sure as hell didn’t feel like a gift to me. “Because you're letting the pain win,” she said sadly. “This is your last chance. Take it.” I wondered how she knew that, but then I lost the ability to form coherent thoughts since my body felt like it was on fire. Pain slashed through my veins like razorblades being chased by molten lava, and no area of my body was immune. Even my eyelids felt dry and scorched. I wanted to scream my lungs out, to beg for it to end, but I couldn’t move. The Loves Baby Soft smell of her faded away, replaced by an acrid stench that burned my nostrils. I thought I was in hell. Regardless of whether I could go home or not, I didn’t think I had the wherewithal to withstand the amount of pain ricocheting through my body like a thousand bullets. My ribs and chest hurt so badly, I wished I could just stop feeling. I’d foolishly believed my utter lack of care or concern about my life meant death would be easy. It wasn’t. Death, I found, was brutal business. The torture seemed to last an eternity and through it all, I was unable to communicate. My eyes stayed closed, and my mouth wouldn’t form words. I couldn’t even lift a hand. If I’d been able to, I would’ve shoved whoever was touching me far, far away. Being fried from the inside out was hell on earth and I wondered why the fuck it wasn’t stopping. How the hell could she have called what was happening to me help? Right then the only thing I knew for sure was that if being helped hurt that much, I preferred to go without the aid. Have you seen the HOT NEW Covers for this amazing Rock Star Series? Picture Perfect Renegade Saints Book One Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1nOPdIG Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/22kUqei Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1S4xjfE Twist of Fate Renegade Saints Book Two Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Ughh5R Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/22kUqei iBooks: http://apple.co/1Z1pMkI Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1pLXWwT Kobo: http://bit.ly/1MnawaE Between us Renegade Saints Book Three Amazon: http://amzn.to/1WJauSs Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/22F5eii iBooks: http://apple.co/23GbQ5P Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/BetweenUsBN Kobo http://bit.ly/BetweenUsKobo About The Author
Ella Fox writes like a woman possessed whenever she gets the chance! She is the author of The Hart Family Series, The Renegade Saints Series and The Catch Series. When she’s not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country. Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh. Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and watching comedy movies. Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest Website |Goodreads | Newsletter
Close To You
Fusion #2 By Kristen Proby Release Date August 9, 2016
Synopsis
Camilla, “Cami,” LaRue was five-years-old when she first fell in love with Landon Palazzo. Everyone told her the puppy love would fade—they clearly never met Landon. When he left after graduation without a backward glance, she was heartbroken. But Cami grew up, moved on, and became part-owner of wildly popular restaurant Seduction. She has everything she could want...or so she thinks. After spending the last twelve years as a Navy fighter pilot, Landon returns to Portland to take over the family construction business. When he catches a glimpse of little Cami LaRue, he realizes she’s not so little any more. He always had a soft spot for his little sister’s best friend, but nothing is soft now when he’s around the gorgeous restauranteur. Landon isn’t going to pass up the chance to make the girl-next-door his. She’s never been one for romance, but he’s just the one to change her mind. Will seduction be just the name of her restaurant or will Cami let him get close enough to fulfill all her fantasies?
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Excerpt
PROLOGUE ~Landon~ “Are you packed?” my sister, Mia, asks through the phone. Her voice is husky with sleep, which makes sense since it’s the middle of the night back home in Portland, Oregon. “I leave tomorrow, Mia. Of course I’m not packed.” She snickers. I just finished up my last debriefing meeting, my last day as an officer in the Navy. I grip the zipper of my flight uniform and sigh. “It’s not right.” “I know,” she says quietly. “But you’re safe and whole, and you could be dead, Landon, so I’ll take it.” I frown, staring at myself in the mirror as I unzip my uniform for the last time. I’ll never wear it again, never pilot a plane again. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? The Navy gave me options, but if I can’t fly, there’s no sense in it. Flying isn’t just what I do, it’s who I am. “You’re overthinking,” Mia says. “I’m a pilot, Mia. This is what I love. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.” “You’re alive,” she says. “Am I?” I murmur, then shake my head and wince at the neck pain that still nags me from time to time. Ejecting from an F- 16 will cause a crick in the neck. And a loss of an inch in height that may never return, along with an entire Naval career. Son of a bitch. “This has been the longest four months of our lives, Landon. We’re all anxious to see you.” “I’ll be home in a few days,” I reply as I pull a T- shirt over my head and throw the last of my belongings in a box that the Navy will have sent to me from Italy. I loved being in Italy for the past few years, and God knows I didn’t plan to leave it like this. But I am. Maybe Mia’s right; at least I’m alive and I can walk and live a normal life. I just can’t fly. And that’s what hurts more than any injury from the crash. “What time should I come get you from the airport?” “No need,” I reply, regretting calling my sister and waking her up. I just didn’t know what else to do when I came in here and was faced with boxes and the end of a career I love. “I’ll get there.” “Landon— ” “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you in a few days.” “Be safe,” she says. “And, Landon?” “Yeah.” “It’s going to be okay.” I force a grin and a nod, though she can’t see either. “Of course it is.” We say our good- byes and I sit on the edge of the bed, scrub my hands over my face, and take a deep breath. I hope she’s right.
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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. Links: Website ** Facebook ** Twitter** Newsletter Sign Up CLOSE TO YOU Goodreads ** Kristen Proby Goodreads
Close To You
Fusion #2 By Kristen Proby Release Date August 9, 2016
Synopsis
Camilla, “Cami,” LaRue was five-years-old when she first fell in love with Landon Palazzo. Everyone told her the puppy love would fade—they clearly never met Landon. When he left after graduation without a backward glance, she was heartbroken. But Cami grew up, moved on, and became part-owner of wildly popular restaurant Seduction. She has everything she could want...or so she thinks. After spending the last twelve years as a Navy fighter pilot, Landon returns to Portland to take over the family construction business. When he catches a glimpse of little Cami LaRue, he realizes she’s not so little any more. He always had a soft spot for his little sister’s best friend, but nothing is soft now when he’s around the gorgeous restauranteur. Landon isn’t going to pass up the chance to make the girl-next-door his. She’s never been one for romance, but he’s just the one to change her mind. Will seduction be just the name of her restaurant or will Cami let him get close enough to fulfill all her fantasies?
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Excerpt
~Landon~ “Are you going to write this down?” “I’m making notes,” I reply, and tap my head, indicating that I’ll remember what she says. “Well, that’s comforting,” she mumbles, and turns away, making me smile. Cami has always been funny. She’s giving and kind, and we once had a special friendship. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want her. Had she been a couple of years older, there was a time when I would have pursued her romantically, but then I went into the Navy, and she got married, and life carried on. It’s not right for a man to continue to call and send letters to a married woman, no matter how much it kills him that she belongs to another man. So we drifted apart. Suddenly she stops pacing, links her fingers nervously together, and sighs. “Landon, I wanted to thank you for coming home when Mom and Daddy died.” I stare at her for a moment, then shake my head, shove my hands in my pockets, and shuffle my feet. “You don’t have to thank me for that.” “Yeah, I do.” She nods. “It was a weird time, and having you here was . . . well, comforting.” “I’m glad. How are you?” “Better,” she says, and smiles. “A lot has happened in the few years since then.” It’s been a few years? I had no idea. Time sure goes fast. “The restaurant keeps all of us busy.” She takes a deep breath and looks around the empty space. “Speaking of, I think a row of booths, like the existing ones we have, would be beautiful over here,” she says, gesturing to the far wall. She continues to share her vision, her eyes shining with excitement. She’s professional and animated, and I can’t look away from her. I never could. The dimple in her cheek winks when she grins, talking about the need for a larger storage space in the back. Her hair is up in a simple ponytail, and she’s in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. She still looks sixteen. But when she turns, and her sweatshirt molds against her body, she’s anything but a kid. She's all woman. Beautiful, stunning, amazing woman. “Seriously, you’re not paying attention to me,” she grumbles. “Oh, I’m paying attention,” I reply. Maybe not the way she wants, but I’m paying attention. “How are you and the cat getting along?” She frowns. “He’s taken over my house.” “He likes you. You’re a likable girl.” I shrug and watch as her frown deepens, then she shakes her head. “We’re talking about work.” “I think, for the first meeting, we did good,” I reply, and glance about the room. “What used to be in here? ” “A toy store,” she replies. “I guess most people buy stuff online these days.” “I think I can raise the ceiling in here,” I say, studying the drop ceiling. “I can make it match your existing ceiling, open it up a bit.” “Good. I don’t know why they made it lower.” “Probably to save on heating costs.” “Raising it will be much better.” She’s nodding, hands on hips, slowly sauntering around. “Can we match the floors too?” “That shouldn’t be a problem.” “Awesome.” She pauses, smiles, and claps her hands. “I’m so excited!” “Even if I’m your contractor?” I ask, and reach out to tug on her hair, but she ducks out of my way. “I guess I can deal with you.” “You like me.” The crush she’s had on me since we were kids has never been a secret. I managed to keep mine hidden, but Cami never did. “You’re okay.” She shrugs and chuckles, and for the first time that I can remember, she’s not looking at me with that sparkle in her eyes, and I’m not sure what to do about that. Or if I even should do anything about that. But I fucking miss it. And Don’t Miss the First Novel in the Fusion Series, LISTEN TO ME! Amazon ** Barnes & Noble ** iTunes ** Kobo
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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. Links: Website ** Facebook ** Twitter** Newsletter Sign Up CLOSE TO YOU Goodreads ** Kristen Proby Goodreads Dirty Work By Brenda Rothert & Chelle Bliss Release Date July 26, 2016 Synopsis From authors Chelle Bliss and Brenda Rothert comes a smoldering standalone enemies to lovers romance that will, ahem…check all your boxes. Reagan I hate him. Jude Titan is everything that’s wrong with the male sex: cocky, domineering and loaded with swagger. Oh, and did I mention he’s a Republican? Yeah, the guy’s so conservative he leans to the right when walking. And lucky me, I’m running against him for Senate. But I’ve got plenty of fight in me. A golden boy war hero opponent with a smile that leaves melted panties in its wake? Bring. It. On. Jude Damn, she’s sexy. Reagan Preston intrigues me from the moment I lay eyes on her. And speaking of laying…I want between those thighs. But I want to make her burn for me first. Every debate and stolen moment is foreplay for us. She claims she hates me, but her body tells a different story. I plan to win this election, but I also want to win the sharp, fiery Democrat who captures my attention like no woman ever has. Politics is filthy, just like all the things I want to do to Reagan Preston. Purchase Links Excerpt Reagan Preston isn’t what I had been expecting. She always appeared cute on TV, though lacking something, but in person…she is stunning. The tiny details the camera doesn’t pick up set her apart from every other female on the planet. Carl punches my arm, drawing my eyes away from Reagan. “You’re staring at her.” “Fuck,” I mutter and clear my throat. “Did anyone notice?” He clenches his jaw and speaks without moving his teeth or lips, and it’s unnerving. “They’re going to if you don’t stop acting like a pubescent teenager who just saw his first pair of tits.” Carl, for all his proper etiquette, can turn on a dime. He’s been in politics for over fifteen years, but before that, he spent time in the Marines just like me. That’s why I chose him as my campaign manager. No one else could understand me unless they’d lived the life I had. When necessary, Carl knows just what to say to make me understand, but it typically makes me laugh. “Let’s talk about the Q&A,” I say to change the subject. It’s more for me than him. I need to get Reagan out of my head, and now that he mentioned tits, those need to be wiped from my mind also. “What can I expect?” Carl’s eyes light up as he begins to explain everything that’s about to happen. He goes over my key talking points, reminding me to mention that I’m not a politician and I served in the military. “I got it,” I tell him before rolling my head around my shoulders to release the tension his words have put there. Reagan grew up in the spotlight because of her father. TV cameras and interviews are nothing new to her, and this puts me at a slight disadvantage. The public will hopefully forgive me for a short time for being a newbie, before the Preston camp can use my inexperience to their advantage. “Why don’t you roll down your sleeves? Tattoos turn off some voters.” His nose wrinkles as his eyes wander down to my forearms. “They’re part of me, Carl. I’m a soldier, and most of us have some type of ink. I can’t hide who I am. If the voters like me, they will because they know exactly what type of man I am. The sleeves are staying up.” “Fine,” he says through a tightly clenched jaw. “It’s time,” a woman yells from the news set and doesn’t give Carl more time to complain. “Places, everyone.” She claps wildly and beckons us to move. “Go get ’em, tiger,” he says with a curt nod, and I roll my eyes at the little nickname. “Piece of cake,” I say and head toward the set. I swallow down the lump that starts to form before the fear can get to me. I’ve got this. I’ve been through far scarier situations. Having the enemy hiding with their gunsight trained at your head is more frightening than staring into the eyes of Reagan Preston. For a moment, my mind wanders and I brush shoulders with someone. “Sorry,” I mumble and glance down at Reagan. “It’s okay,” she whispers, looking up at me with soft blue eyes. She’s ridiculously calm and doesn’t even have a hair out of place. Her stare dips to my exposed arms. “Nice ink, by the way.” My hand unconsciously touches the ink on my left arm. “Thanks. Are you ready for this?” I ask for some reason. I don’t care if she’s ready. I need to remind myself that we’re not friends. We’ll never be friends. She’s the enemy. About The Authors
BRENDA ROTHERT - AUTHOR BIO: Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters. Website: http://brendarothert.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorbrendarothert/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrendaRothert Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/brendarothert/ Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrendaRothert Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TyGXds CHELLE BLISS - AUTHOR BIO: Chelle Bliss, USA Today Bestselling author, currently lives in a small town near the Gulf of Mexico. She's a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, and coffee fiend. She's written over thirteen books and has three series available. She loves spending her free time with her boyfriend, 2 cats, and her hamster. Before becoming a writer, Chelle taught high school history for over ten years. She holds a master's degree in Instructional Technology and a bachelor's in history. Although history is her first love, writing has become her dream job and she can't imagine doing anything else. Website: http://chellebliss.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorchellebliss1 Twitter: https://twitter.com/ChelleBliss1 Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/chellebliss10/ Instagram: https://instagram.com/authorchellebliss/ Google+: https://plus.google.com/+ChelleBliss |
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