The Homecoming by Stacie Ramey…Book Spotlight

The Homecoming

By Stacie Ramey

November 1, 2016; Trade Paper, ISBN 9781492635888

Book Info:

Title: The Homecoming

Author: Stacie Ramey

Release Date: November 1, 2016

Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire

Praise for The Homecoming

“The overall message of relying on family and friends for support is clear, and John’s pain and confusion are palpable… the male point of view distinguishes it in a field crowded with girls’ perspectives. VERDICT A solid addition to YA collections.”

– School Library Journal

“This engaging story will appeal to all readers and will help troubled teens realize that there can be help out there for what’s going on in their lives.”

– School Library Connection

“A stirring close-up of a family haunted by emotional trauma.”

– Kirkus

Summary:

Forced to return to his estranged family, John discovers how hard it is to truly go home.

It’s been a year since John lost his girlfriend, Leah, to suicide. Living with his uncle keeps his mind from the tragedy and his screwed up family—until he gets into trouble and a judge sends him back home. With a neglectful mother and abusive brother, John’s homecoming is far from happy.

As he tries to navigate and repair the relationships he abandoned years ago, Emily, the girl next door, is the only bright spot. She’s sweet and smart and makes him think his heart may finally be healing. But tragedy isn’t far away, and John must soon face an impossible decision: save his family or save himself.

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Buy Links:

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THE HOMECOMING

STACIE RAMEY

Chapter 1

Standing on the high school’s lacrosse field in the town I never thought I’d go back to, I wait for my turn to do suicides. The sun blazes, and I take a drink from my water bottle and try not to chew myself out for landing here instead of getting to stay in Chicago with Uncle Dave. What would Leah think if she saw me now?

“Strickland!” Coach calls. “Line up.”

It’s not my turn to run again, and the unfairness starts a flame in my stomach, but I line up anyway. No way I’m gonna let Coach see he’s getting to me. Or let the team know how out of shape I really am.

“Get your legs up!” Coach Gibson screams, and I think he’s talking to me, but I can’t be sure, because six of us are racing, and I’m losing. Bad. Guess the last few years of smoking weed hasn’t helped my stamina.

Matt, a guy from my neighborhood who I used to play lacrosse with and one of two people Mom fought like hell to keep me away from, yells from the sidelines, “Wheels, Strickland, wheels.” But he laughs as he says it, and I know he’s just giving me shit.

I knew they’d go hard on me. Payback for moving away. For not playing lacrosse since fifth grade. For hanging with the druggies instead of the jocks. I’m one of the new guys on the team. An honor not usually given to seniors. So I’m treated to Hell Week like the freshmen and sophomores. I don’t mind. That’s just the way it is.

Coach Gibson points to me. “Just Strickland this time.”

Bodies collapse around me, and I hear their sighs of relief as I crouch in the ready position, sweat pouring off my chest and arms and legs while I wait for Coach’s whistle to launch me like a bullet from a gun. I run from the end line to goal line. Goal line to end line. End line to box line. Box line to half field.

“Push, push, push,” Coach yells.

I do what he says, push my body. Pump my legs. It sucks, but I do it, because with each stride, I feel my body taking over and my mind being left far behind. Maybe this time, Dad was right. Lacrosse is just what I need.

“Again.” Coach points to me. He clicks his stopwatch, and I race again. He shakes his head as he documents my time. Like I don’t know how bad I suck. Like I don’t get how much persuading Dad must have had to do to get me on the team. Thinking of Dad fires me up to tap into my beast. I bend over. Try not to puke. Take a drink of my water and hit the line to run again.

I don’t actually mind this part. Whenever I run full out, push my body past its limit, those are the times I’m not thinking of Leah.

“Again.” I run my route one more time, my body failing a little more with each step. When I’m sure I’m going to fall to the ground, I make myself think of Leah. How I was supposed to save her. How I didn’t. And that’s enough to propel me forward. At the end of the run, I bend over, spit on the ground.

The other seniors and juniors start their Indian drill. They jog by us freshies, run their rhythmic jogging and even breathing, reminding me that they are warriors, and I am not. Matt yells out, “Damn, Strickland.” Then laughs as I lose this battle and puke on the ground.

Brandon, another guy from the old team, joins in the hilarity. “We got a puker!”

I look at each exercise as a brick in some mythical wall I have to build before I can earn my walking papers. That makes it easier to face. One step. One drill. One minute. One hour. One week. One month. More than one year since my girlfriend Leah died. (Killed herself, I remind myself, careful to make the memory hurt as much as possible.)

Probably thirty minutes left in practice. Nine weeks till my first report card. Nine months of probation, ten months till I can graduate and move on with my life to California. The farthest place from my family I can go without getting a passport. Where I can cash in on my one and only talent: growing and selling weed. Legally there.

Finally, Coach calls us in. The juniors and seniors have already been sent to the locker room ahead of us, so he’s only addressing us wannabes. “You guys didn’t totally disappoint me today, so tomorrow, you can bring your sticks.”

Some of the guys pump their fists. I don’t even have the energy to do that.

“Now hit the showers and head home.”

I’m turning to leave when Coach calls me over. “Hey, John, I wanted to say I’m sorry about your brother. And your girl.”

The dragon roars. Flames engulf me. People just can’t let an accident like Ryan’s go, even after all these years. But Leah? That’s too much. They didn’t even know her. I don’t want to share her tragedy, her life, her memory with anyone.

“You’ve had some tough breaks for sure.”

Dad and his stupid mouth.

Coach shifts his stance, crosses his arms—his clipboard with all my times now clutched to his chest. Numbers that for sure say I’m not good enough to be on any lacrosse team—definitely not the varsity team at East Coast High. “I don’t want you to get discouraged. Coach Stallworth told me about you. Said you used to be a hell of an athlete. You can be again, I’m sure.”

His stare feels like he’s trying to figure out what I’m made of. I want to tell him not to waste his time. I’m happy to tell him exactly who I am. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t mind taking whatever physical punishment he wants to dish out. But when it comes to my emotions? Coach is going to have to understand that that shit’s off-limits. Emotions are for idiots. Feeling crap doesn’t change what happened. Good weed works so much better. Hell, even bad weed beats feeling any day.

I gulp more water. Spit on the ground. Look him square in the eye. “Thanks, Coach. That all?”

I guess Coach picks up on my noncommunicative status, because his eyes go back to his clipboard. “See you tomorrow.”

I give him a nod and jog to the locker room so Coach’ll see I’ve still got a little juice in me, even after everything.

***

Last one in the locker room also means last one out. I sit on the bench, lean over to close my locker as Matt and Brandon head for the parking lot.

“Later,” Matt throws over his shoulder, the er reverberating as the door shuts behind him.

Matt and I’ve got some history to get over. It was his big brother, Pete, who hit Ryan. Seven years later and that still hangs between us. Not that it was Pete’s fault exactly. When it comes to those things, fault hardly even matters. It’s called an accident for a reason.

Besides, Pete hasn’t exactly gotten off scot-free either. Some people might think becoming a high school dropout, working pizza delivery while feeding a major drug and drinking problem is not as bad as Ryan’s deal, but I say that nobody has a right to judge. I stayed in touch with Pete even after I moved away. Nobody understands that, but it was like he was the only one who got the nuclear fallout of that accident.

I’m stuffing my sweaty clothes into my bag and zipping it up when I hear my cell chirp. I grab it, hoping it’s one of Pete’s connections I reached out to today. Someone who can help me with my little sobriety problem.

But it’s not Pete’s connection. It’s Uncle Dave. Hey, just checking in. Hope you’re settling in OK.

I text back. Yeah. Fine.

How was practice?

Somehow, that kills me. That he’s still checking on me. Uncle Dave. Not Dad or Mom. Him. This warm spot inside me lights a little every time he calls or texts.

He texts again. When someone you love dies, it changes you. Remember that.

He means Leah for me. My perfect big brother for Mom.

After Ryan’s accident, Mom didn’t change so much as reduce, like the sauce that Uncle Dave made for my filet the last night I was living with him. He explained how a little fire under you can intensify whatever’s inside you. After the accident, Mom got more intense for sure. Driven. Focused only on Ryan. With me, I just got more angry. Just the way I am, I guess.

Uncle Dave always tries to turn simple moments into lessons. Not preachy ones, just different ways to look at life. His texts aren’t meant to pry or annoy, but I can’t help wishing he hadn’t. I screwed up the best living arrangement of my life, the one Dad said I needed after I told him about Leah. But I killed the whole deal by hanging with a bunch of thugs and acting like a punk.

There’s a mass of activity around me in the locker room that doesn’t include me. Kids banging fists. Giving each other shit. Nodding when the others ask if they’ve got a ride. Then it hits me: I’m completely ride-less.

The guys on the team have picked up on my not so subtle I want to be left alone signal. I know teammates are supposed to male bond or some shit like that, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to finish probation. Live according to Mom’s rules. Then get out and go away. And never come back.

I text Uncle Dave. I’m exactly the same jerk I used to be.

He texts. Nice try.

As the door bangs shut for the last time, I realize my being a selfish ass and ignoring everyone means I’ll have to walk home. Great work, Johnny. I almost laugh out loud at what an idiot I can be.

The phone chirps again. This time it’s Dad. Picked up your Jeep from the compound. Cost me a fortune. Show me you’ve earned it and I’ll bring it to you.

Always pushing. Uncle Dave is so much cooler than Dad is that it’s hard to believe they’re even brothers.

The door opens, and a janitor leans in. “You done?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” I look around the locker room one more time. I am completely alone, even on a team of thirty kids. Classic me.

Rafflecopter Giveaway Link for 2 Copies of The Homecoming

Runs November 6-November 18 (US & Canada only)

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About the Author:

Stacie Ramey attended the University of Florida where she majored in communication sciences and Penn State where she received a Master of Science degree in speech pathology. She lives in Wellington, Florida, with her husband, three children, and two rescue dogs. Visitwww.stacieramey.com.

Social Media Links:

Author Website:http://www.stacieramey.com/

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Playboy Pilot by Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward…Chapter Reveal

Are you excited to read Playboy Pilot on September 19^th? We have a link for you to read Chapter 1 NOW!

Read Chapter 1 of Playboy Pilot early: http://www.subscribepage.com/i1a4m5

Exclusive pre-order on iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf

Paperback pre-order: http://www.amazon.com/Playboy-Pilot-Penelope-Ward/dp/1682304310/

Add Playboy Pilot to your TBR list on Goodreads!

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29533192-playboy-pilot

Playboy Pilot will be available on Amazon, B&N, Kobo & Google on release day.

Chapter Reveal…Luka by Jane Harvey-Berrick

Coming June 16th

Pre-Order Links

Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon CA

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

I’m not a good man.

I’m not a bad man.

But I’ve made some bad mistakes, made the wrong choices.

Who hasn’t? But the consequences are tearing us apart.

I love two people.

I love them differently.

The world tells me I have to choose. Why? Why do I have to choose?

Loving hurts. Dancing heals.

Love makes you soar, makes you fly and sets you free—and then it lets you freefall until you’re smashed and bleeding on the ground. Ultimately, love is the worst thing that can happen to a human being.

Im my opinion.

I love two people.

I love them differently.

One is a man.

One is a woman.

And they are brother and sister.

**** A stand alone novel in the best-selling Rhythm Series. ****

Prologue

I’m not a good man.

I’m not a bad man.

But I made some bad mistakes, made the wrong choices. Who hasn’t? But the consequences are tearing us apart.

I love two people.

I love them differently.

The world tells me I have to choose. Why?

Why do I have to choose?

Love makes you soar, makes you fly and sets you free—and then it lets you freefall until you’re smashed and bleeding on the ground.

Ultimately, love is the worst thing that can happen to a human being.

In my opinion.

I loved two people.

I loved them differently.

One was a man.

One was a woman.

And I never wanted to hurt anyone, least of all the two people who mean more to me than anyone else in the world.

Love isn’t supposed to be that hard.

It started with a note.

Luka,

Thanks for last night. Kind of awkward. LOL But don’t worry about it. I have to go and catch my plane, so I’ll see you in three months!!

This is the address for the party I mentioned: 187b Bishops Avenue. You should go—Becky’s parties are always amazing.

Love ya!

Sarah x

There was no reason on earth for me to think that this simple message would change my life. Or fuck it up. Depending on your point of view.

But it did.

♫♪ ♫♪ ♫♪ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♪♫♪

Jane is a writer of contemporary romance fiction, known for thoughtful stories, often touching on difficult subjects: disability (DANGEROUS TO KNOW & LOVE, SLAVE TO THE RHYTHM); mental illness (THE EDUCATION OF CAROLINE, SEMPER FI); life after prison (LIFERS); dyslexia (THE TRAVELING MAN, THE TRAVELING WOMAN).

She is also a campaigner for former military personnel to receive the support they need on leaving the services. She wrote the well-received play LATER, AFTER with former veteran Mike Speirs. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hk1CyB8c0xA )

Author Links

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Suspicious Minds by Elizabeth Reyes….Blitz & Read-A-Long

What happened in chapter 11 – chapter 15?:

Olivia confesses to Lorenzo her conversation with Margie, and tells him everything that happened with Jay, including the recent texts that’s she ignored. Olivia ends up blocking Jay on everything – her phone, e-mail, all of her social media.

Lorenzo is out golfing with Olivia’s brothers when they start talking about Olivia’s boss, Elton Hollingsworth. Olivia had briefly mentioned him to Lorenzo before, saying he was a silent partner and she just owed him money for the truck. But her brothers don’t like him and they confront Olivia about still having any sort of contact with him.

Knowing that they were talking about him to Lorenzo, Olivia decides to tell Lorenzo the whole truth about Elton and the offers he’s made her in the past, exchanging sex to remove some of her debt. Lorenzo explains to her that it’s sexual harassment and inappropriate, and Olivia agrees to ask Elton to stop coming by the truck and inviting to her lunch when he doesn’t ask any of the other girls he works with.

One day Elton shows up with a puppy – the kind of dog she’s always wanted to have. He tells her it’s a no strings attached puppy, and he paid for it several months ago and she should have it anyway.

Then Jay shows up. Margie is missing.

Not knowing anything about what happened that day with Elton and Jay, Lorenzo accepts a temporary deployment – he’ll only be gone for a couple of days.

Favourite Quotes:

“I’m not in the habit of going out with anyone more than once if I’m not serious.”

“I’m beginning to think you just might be perfect.”

Discussion Questions:

Do you think Olivia should have rejected the dog from Elton?

About SUSPICIOUS MINDS

Good girls cheat too.

It’s a bitter reality Lorenzo Moreno knows all too well.
After his “good girl” fiancée blind sides him by cheating on him with her ex Lorenzo swears off relationships for a while, if not forever.

Until Fate steps in.

Unable to fight the incredible pull he feels to Olivia, a girl who was supposed to be just a meaningless one night stand, Lorenzo gives into his heart. But only after making one thing utterly clear. He will not deal with any exe’s or other men in her life. Period.

She’s not that person anymore.

For too long Olivia Romero shamefully put up with an manipulative and overly controlling boyfriend. So when fate pairs her up with the gorgeous but intense Air Force pilot she’s ready to stand her ground. Cutting all ties with her ex is no sacrifice for Olivia. It’s why she willingly complies with Lorenzo’s uncompromising stipulation.

As their relationship intensifies so do Lorenzo’s suspicions about any man in her life. Determined to not be that weak girl anymore, Olivia demands to be trusted. Despite how vehement her new boyfriend can be, her diligence seems to be working.

But when an unforeseen crisis arises Olivia is forced to make a decision. A decision she knows in Lorenzo’s jaded and suspicious mind could be unforgivable.

Get SUSPICIOUS MINDS now: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iBooks

HIS TO GUARD releases early 2016 – add it to your Goodreads list here!

Be sure to sign up for Elizabeth Reyes’ newsletter so you don’t miss out on teasers from HIS TO GUARD, the release date, and the discounted pre-order price!

Giveaway

Want to win an ARC of HIS TO GUARD by Elizabeth Reyes? Sign up via the Rafflecopter below!

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Follow along with the Suspicious Minds Read-A-Long!

Suspicious Minds, Day One: Monday, Feb. 15th – Margie’s Must Reads & Pink Lace and Silver Buckles Book Blog
Suspicious Minds, Day Two: Tuesday, Feb. 16th – Morning Books and Coffee & Disheveled Book Blog
Suspicious Minds, Day Three: Wednesday, Feb. 17th – Read Love Blog & Margay Leah Justice
Suspicious Minds, Day Four: Thursday, Feb. 18th – Grown Up Fangirl
Suspicious Minds, Day Five: Friday, Feb. 19th – Nettes Novel Notes & Alpha Book Club & Have Words Will Scribble

Make sure to join InkSlinger PR on Monday, February 22nd to begin the read-a-long of Sydney’s story, Again, the fourth book in the Fate series.

About Elizabeth Reyes

Award winning, USA Today Bestselling Author, Elizabeth Reyes continues to answer her calling on a daily basis. Since releasing her debut novel FOREVER MINE (MORENO BROTHERS #1) in 2010 she has since published seven more in that series, FOREVER YOURS, SWEET SOFIE, WHEN YOU WERE MINE, ALWAYS BEEN MINE, ROMERO, MAKING YOU MINE, and TANGLED with more stories about the Moreno family and their friends to come. She’s also published a second series, 5th Street which includes, NOAH, GIO, HECTOR, ABEL. FELIX. Her Moreno Brother’s spinoff series FATE includes FATE, BREAKING BRANDON, SUSPICIOUS MINDS and AGAIN (Sydney’s story). Her debut traditionally published title is DESERT HEAT and her latest release is her first ever three part romance serial DEFINING LOVE.

When she’s not writing (which is rare) she spends as much time as she can with her husband of almost twenty-one years, two young adult children, her Great Dane, Dexter and big fat lazy cat named Tyson.

Current by Abby McCarthy….Chapter Reveal

One look was all it took for fifteen-year-old June Withers to fall in love with Jake Daniels. One moment was all it took for the river’s current to take everything from them.

June would have done anything for Jake. The two were inseparable. He was going to run away to be with her. Then, his abusive father destroyed their happiness.

Years later, June sits down to write a review for the band Silent Tides and is floored when she comes face to face with Lucas the keyboardist. Lucas looks so familiar; the resemblance to Jake is uncanny.

June falls fast and hard for Lucas, but she continuously questions her feelings for him, unsure if they are because he reminds her of Jake or because of who he is.

Just when June thinks she’s found happiness with Lucas, she loses him too. Their new love is torn apart, clouded in a veil of deceit and lies, shattering June.

Six years pass and June feels like she finally has found peace in her life. Once again, it’s ripped wide open when she comes face to face with a love from her past.

Now it’s June who has a secret

“Jake! Where the hell are you? We should’ve been out on the water by now!” Shit, Jake thought. The old man didn’t sound good today. He wondered if he even slept. When Jake left early this morning, his old man hadn’t come home yet which could mean so many things.
Jake looked over to June who was decent and breathed a sigh of relief as his dad walked through the clearing. If his dad was just minutes earlier he would have seen June. The thought sickened Jake.
June stood up as soon as she saw Mr. Daniels, her cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment and she hoped he had no idea what they had been up too.
“Hi, Mr. Daniels,” she said.
“You again, huh? You’re the reason Jake isn’t where he’s supposed to be, aren’t you?”
June didn’t know what to say. She heard Mike Daniels say unkind things to Jake, but he had never been rude to June before. Jake reached June and slipped his hand in hers and gave her a look that said don’t answer him.
“I’m coming now, Dad,” Jake said. June was instantly sad that she had to leave Jake.
“I’m good at cleaning fish. I bet I’d be a great help on the boat Mr. Daniels,” June offered up ignoring the glare Jake gave her. She knew he didn’t want her around his old man, but she also knew her time was coming to an end.
Mr. Daniels was quiet and thought for a moment and said, “Fine. Let’s go.”
Jake felt it low and in the pit of his stomach that something about this was a bad idea, but when June squeezed his hand and said, “Please,” he couldn’t deny her.
The fishing boat was not a luxury boat. It was a dirty, slightly rusty boat, with large nets hanging off the front of it, and other fishing contraptions off the back that June had no idea what they did. When she thought of fishing, she thought of how her dad did it with a pole, a couple of beers and a day out with friends. There were poles attached on the side of the boat and baskets attached to the opposite side. It became very clear to June that this was not a leisurely trip down the river.
Jake cringed when June sat on the bench that he knew had dried fish guts staining it. He hated that her pretty dress was going to be ruined before the day was over. He hated even more, when he saw his dad take the whiskey bottle to his lips before pushing off their small dock. He never wanted June to be around his dad, and for once, he instantly regretted giving in to her quiet plea to go with them. He was shocked his dad agreed in the first place.
The boat pushed off the dock and Jake dropped cages to catch crawfish and he explained to June that they would sweep back around and grab them on the way back.
“Less talking. More work,” Mr. Daniels yelled more angrily than necessary at the young couple.
June quickly asked, “What can I do?”
Jake tensed at his dad’s tone and then tensed again when he watched him take the fifth of whiskey to his lips finishing the bottle.
Eventually, they reached a spot on the river where Mr. Daniels swore the fish would be biting. Jake showed June how to bait and cast out a line, taking his time in making sure she learned it right.
“If I’d thought this was going to be a day of you trying to get in your girlfriend’s pants, I’d have thought twice about letting her tag along,” Mike Daniels spat at the two, jealous that they had each other and angry that he no longer had his sweet wife. She was always the only person who made him good. Without her, he had nothing. He never felt connected to Jake. Jake always occupied his wife’s time and Mike resented that. He hated Jake even more for it when he no longer had her.
Jake cringed again at the vulgar words his dad used around June, mouthing, “Sorry,” to her.
June responded by squeezing Jake’s hand and for the first time she got a small glimpse at what Jake went through on a daily basis. Her heart hurt for him and she was going to do her best not to let Mr. Daniels harsh words get to her.
Mr. Daniels pushed past the two and intentionally shoulder-checked Jake. Jake knew not to stand up to his old man, especially not when June was there, so he gritted his teeth and tried to check his temper. Jake was angry that his dad was acting like this in front of June. He could take it, but didn’t need for June to put up with it.
Mr. Daniels threw a line out, stationed his rod and then cast another, doing it all rather clumsily. The boat swayed side to side and Jake thought there would be no swimming for the pair tonight, the river was far too choppy. It was one of the reasons he didn’t rush to the boat. He never thought his dad would want to fish in this.
June squealed with excitement when she felt a tug on the line. Jake told her to reel it slow at first and let the fish think that he was getting the bait, that way the fish would really get hooked. She did as instructed and after a few minutes of give and take on the line, she reeled in her first fish. It was small, too small to sell, and so Jake showed her how to unhook it and then he threw it back in. Jake caught several large fish while his dad had yet to catch one.
The clouds looked heavy and low, signaling to Jake that a bad storm might be coming.
“I don’t think we should stay out here, not if we’re going to pick up our baskets on the way back,” Jake said to his dad.
Mike Daniels looked furiously at Jake. He knew when to call it quits. It was his boat. He’d been fishing on this river since he was a boy. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that extra fifth of whiskey with breakfast-who was he kidding-for breakfast, but it didn’t matter he knew when to call it quits and that wasn’t yet. He needed more fish. He needed a bigger haul. He lost big on the tables last night and if he didn’t come up with money to pay Mr. Stevens there would be hell to pay. He’d already lost the farm and that shit son of his couldn’t even catch enough fish to help pay his debts. What good was he, anyways?
“The fuck did you say, boy? I’ll tell you when we’re ready to go.”
June flinched at Mr. Daniels tone but tried to not let Jake see it had affected her. She also tried not to flinch when Mr. Daniels threw out his line and snagged his rig against a bunch of turned up branches that the coming storm was pushing down the river.
“That’s a fifty dollar rig. Get your ass in the water and go get it,” he said to Jake. Jake wanted to argue about the fast current and how dangerous it was. He also hated the thought of leaving June alone with his old man even for a second, but he could tell by his old man’s tone that today could get even worse than it already was. Jake stripped off his jeans, into his boxers and quickly jumped into the murky water, looking back at June once before plunging under the water.
June’s stomach tightened. Every second Jake was in the water was a second she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
It happened fast. Mike Daniels was too close to June for comfort.
“You know I saw you two together. I didn’t figure you for a whore, but at least my boy is getting some. I’m thinking I should get a taste. See what all the fuss is about that’s been keeping him so busy.”
June froze. She didn’t want Mr. Daniels to come any closer to her, but she needed to make sure that Jake was okay.
Jake emerged from under the water near the brush. The water was choppy, and there were more limbs below the surface than above. He reached out and tried to unhook the rig, but the tumultuous waters pushed a sharp jagged stick into his ribs. He felt it cut his skin, but he had to go on.
“Stop!” he heard the faint cry from June, and turned his head back to see why she was yelling. His dad had his hands on June and was groping one of June’s breasts.
“No!” she yelled again and he watched as she struck out and smacked his dad. He needed to get to her, he knew what happened when he tried to fight back and. Fighting back only made it worse.
He couldn’t swim back fast enough to the boat. His arms burned with how hard he was trying to get to her. The sky opened up and sent large pellets of water everywhere. Jake could barely see through the dense rain. He pushed himself as hard as he could but felt like he was failing when he saw his dad grab her by the back of her hair and force her to her knees, with his other hand around her throat. He knew his dad was sick, but he never imagined him trying to do something as vile as this.
Jake reached the boat just as his dad’s belt buckle was being undone and his world went black.

Abby McCarthy is reader and a lover of words. She is a blogger turned author and released her first novel in May 2014. She is a mother of three, a wife and a dog person. She has always written, sometimes poetry, sometimes just to vent about failed relationships, however in parenthood she has found her voice to help keep her sanity. Words have flowed from her, to review and with the support of amazing friends in the Indie community she has decided to pursue her dream of writing! She loves to write and read romance, because isn’t that something we all yearn for? Whether it be flowers and hand holding or just the right tug on your hair. Isn’t that what life is about? The human connection?

http://abbymccarthyauthor.com/

https://www.facebook.com/Abbymccarthyauthor

https://twitter.com/abbyemccarthy

The Blood Scion by Nazarea Andrews….Chapter Reveal

Today we are revealing chapter one from THE BLOOD SCION by Nazarea Andrews. This book will be released on November 24th and it is the beginning of a brand new series from Nazarea, The Scion Legacy. Don’t miss picking up The Scionless House, a novella in the series, because it is FREE!

Click here to add THE BLOOD SCION to Goodreads

THE BLOOD SCION Blurb:

I was just a reporter, trying to stay ahead of my student loans. I knew the rules, and I followed them.
I thought I knew how the world worked—humans lived their petty little lives in the safety of the sun. We loved and fought and—when the sun sank—we scurried behind our walls and lived in fear. That is when the monsters came out to play.
And even in the safety of the sun, we knew who ruled us.
The Houses. And their Scions.
Everyone knows the great Houses and their Scions—they are feared and loved and hated and envied. They are the gods who walk the shadows and rule all of our lives. They are salvation and death.
And somehow, I am one of them.

Chapter 1: The Reporter

No one wakes up and thinks, This is the day my life will change.
We wake up and think, I forgot to set the coffee. Five more minutes. I think I’m going to stop for a bagel. Did Elise give my dress back? Five more fucking minutes.
“Farley!”
I curse under my breath. Elise is yelling for me and that means I used up my five minutes ten minutes ago.
“I’m awake,” I say and she sticks her head around the screen that partitions my corner of her loft from the rest of the open space. Elise would be just as happy having me sprawled across her messy loft, but I like personal space and privacy.
Even if that space is miniscule and that privacy is pseudo, and we rent the loft from a family of four who side eyes us every time we leave.
The TV is on in the corner as I emerge from my bed, and I frown. “Turn it up.”
Elise makes an aggravated noise as she reaches for the remote. She’s painting her nails, the fumes making my nose wrinkle as I pour the coffee—thank God, I did set it last night.
A classically good looking man in his mid-forties is addressing a crowd of reporters, all of them hanging on his every word.
“The atrocities won’t stand. We need to remember that we were dying when the Houses stepped forward with the antidote to the Brakken and restored order. The fealty given to their lines and Scions are not only appropriate, it is their right.”
I glance at Elise, scanning her tablet as the blood red polish dries. “What happened?”
“HR0 bombed a coven.”
My blood runs cold and I swallow hard to keep from rubbing away the goosebumps running down my arm.
The human rights movements terrify me. Not because I disagree with them. I don’t. I agree too much. It’s terrifying because the Houses don’t tolerate any dissent. Some will accept the rumblings of the movement, as long as it stays only that.
But no House will tolerate humans attacking the covens. And–“Where did it happen?”
Elise glances up at me, her pale eyes haunted. “Seattle.”
Fuck.
The west coast belongs to House Klinge. And they are savage. Blood will spill tonight, and wash Seattle’s streets red. I wonder how many will die to appease the fury of the House before the patriarch brings his princes to heel.
Hundreds.
“Go,” Elise says abruptly. “You can’t fix everything and the HRO knew the risks. We all do.”
I nod, and grab my coffee, heading into the shower as the Kennedy scion drones on.
We all know the risk of crossing one of the Houses. But some are desperate enough that they no longer care.

The sun is shining, something that is comforting as I step out of the brownstone and jog down the steps. The subway isn’t far, but it’s enough that the sunlight protects me—and that’s done very carefully.
Most people think any sunlight will protect them. It’s why apartments became outdated after the plague. They might be right. No one believes the memories of a terrified little girl—even I’ve started to wonder if I was wrong. I keep my fears to myself, buried deep.
I keep a lot to myself. More than anyone, even Winston, realizes.
The office is quiet when I step in—most of the reporting staff is on assignment, and some will be scrambling to get a soundbite from the Houses.
Not that they will—some might get the idle blood chatter, but no Scion would bother themselves with our tiny e-zine. We’re not important enough for the big boys to even notice.
Which is fine. I flick my hair out of my eyes and grab my messages from my unpaid intern and close myself into my office without a word.
There’s a few from my brother, and one from my editor. Two without a number to respond to. I frown. Most of the time, people email me. Anyone who works with knows I loathe the phone. Even Kevin knows—he’s just too much of an ass to care.
My inbox dings and I shove the messages aside as I focus on the stories waiting for me.

Get THE SCIONLESS HOUSE for FREE!

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Click here to add THE SCIONLESS HOUSE to Goodreads

THE SCIONLESS HOUSE Blurb:

Twelve Houses. Twelve vampire lines. We ruled from the shadows, and manipulated the world, and when humans came too close to destruction, we intervened.
Every House has a Scion. A fragile, easily broken human that stood shoulder to shoulder with the house Princes and Princesses.
Except for ours. The Ravens, House Cantelie.
We’ve been without a Scion for almost fifteen years.
But that will change…and her life will be mine to protect.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Nazarea Andrews (N to almost everyone) is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. Which means she writes everything from zombies and dystopia to contemporary love stories. When not writing, she can most often be found driving her kids to practice and burning dinner while she reads, or binging watching TV shows on Netflix. N loves chocolate, wine, and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, spoiled cat and overgrown dog. She is the author of World Without End series, Neverland Found, Edge of the Falls, and The University of Branton Series. Stop by her twitter (@NazareaAndrews) and tell her what fantastic book she should read next.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Street Team

Getting Hot by Mia Storm..Chapter Reveal

Rules of engagement:

1) You have the right to use force to defend yourself.

2) Fire may be returned to stop a hostile attack.

3) You may not seize the property of others to accomplish your mission.

4) Detention of civilians is authorized in self-defense.

Delilah Morgan and her older sister Destiny have been on their own for two years, since their parents burned down the family home and went to jail for cooking meth. She’s street smart and tough. Nothing about her says sixteen, and she’s not about to tell anyone, especially Bran, the hot ex-marine bartender Destiny has her eye on. He’s stable and successful and everything her sister needs to keep them off the street. The only problem, something about Bran inspires her and suddenly she’s writing the best music she ever has. About him.

Branson Silo knows what it means to be in the line of fire. Home for a year from his second tour of duty in Afghanistan, he thinks he’s safe…until he meets Delilah. Despite her sharp tongue that makes him want to take cover, he can’t deny the attraction. But when he hires her to play weekends at his family’s saloon, he finds out she’s more than he can handle…which is saying something considering he used to blow things up for a living.

When the grenade finally explodes and the shrapnel flies, will Bran be left standing? Or has he survived years at war only to be taken down by Jail Bait?

ADD TO GOODREADS

Chapter 1
Bran

I shouldn’t have fucked her last week. That was my mistake, and I feel like a douche—something I’m not used to.
I watch Destiny tuck a long strand of platinum hair behind her ear with her pen as she finishes taking drink orders at the table near the door. She shoots me a secret smile when she turns and makes her way over, and I mentally shoot myself for getting caught looking. This train’s already careening down the track, barely holding onto the rails, and when I pull shit like this, it only picks up momentum.
“We got Hendricks?” she asks, slapping her order on the ancient mahogany bar between us.
I look over the order. “Closest thing I got is Tanqueray.”
The smile falls off her face and she blows out a sigh. “I’ll ask him.”
I follow the curve where her tiny waist blooms into a killer ass as she turns and heads back to the table.
She’s hot. That’s what it boils down to. When I took her home last week, it was after her first training shift with Carol. We’d sat at the bar and knocked back a few after closing and I got caught up in everything she had going on. I totally missed the signs. I didn’t see that she was looking for more than a hookup until after it was too late—until she didn’t leave after we’d done the deed.
The only guy at the table with three women—some total wannabe with a dark suit jacket over a turtleneck and pressed jeans—scowls and gives Destiny some lip. I can’t hear what he says over the piped in Kat Country, but she shrugs and says something back, then offers me an apologetic squint when the guy pushes up from his seat. He starts my direction on polished loafers, but his eyes widen slightly and he pulls up short when he sees me.
The reaction’s not unusual. When I left for boot camp six years ago, I was already in decent shape. I was Oak Crest High’s first ever (and only, as far as I know) four sport athlete all for years—football in the fall, wrestling in the winter, and baseball and track in the spring. Which is probably a big part of the reason my grades weren’t good enough to do anything but enlist. But the Marines made all that training look like fucking Romper Room, and it was only a matter of weeks before my bulk didn’t fit into any of my old clothes anymore. Since Pop owns the local gym and my sister Brenda runs it, when I’m not working behind Mom’s bar at the Sam Hill Saloon, I spend most of my time lifting weights. I’ve managed to stay in pretty decent shape…which means guys like this pansy ass are generally intimidated. Course, the tattooed six-foot-three thing doesn’t hurt the intimidation factor. Since I let my dark flattop grow out, I look more like a biker than an ex-Marine.
After a beat, his shiny shoes start moving again but he stops three feet short of the bar, out of my wingspan. “Tanqueray or Tanqueray number ten?” he demands, putting on a “big man” show for the women he’s here with.
I step aside to show him the rack behind me and he flinches a little at my movement. “For top shelf gin, Tanqueray’s what I got.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales his disappointment, then scans my top shelf again. “Tanqueray isn’t even in the same league as Hendricks.”
I shrug. “You want the citrus, I’d go with the Seagrams. Something drier, I’ve got Beefeaters.”
He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling as if my suggestions are all so far below him he’s afraid of getting a nosebleed if he has to look all the way down at them. “Just give me the Tanqueray. Make it a Tom Collins so I don’t have to taste it.”
He stalks back to his table and drops into his seat as I start on their order.
Destiny comes over and watches me mix. “That guy’s a jerk,” she say with a flick of her eyes back toward the wannabe professor. “Thank God he’s Carol’s to deal with in fifteen.”
“You’re giving Carol the tip?” I say with raised eyebrows.
Her lip curls. “Guys like that don’t tip.”
I lift my eyes to him as I shake his Tom Collins. “He give you a hard time?”
“He thought I should’ve known what kind of Tanqueray we have.” Her face scrunches. “I didn’t even know there were different kinds.”
I glance at the table again. City folk for sure. Probably up here in the foothills for something at the college. “Guess he didn’t realize he’d wandered out of his natural habitat.”
She busts out a laugh as I pour his drink into the highball. “So, I was thinking…” she says when her laugh dies. “I could swing by your place when you get off. If you want.”
“Listen…” I start, setting the drink on her tray. But just as I open my mouth to tell her I don’t do relationships, Mom shoves through the swinging door from the kitchen. Five years in the Marines and two tours in Afghanistan, and I’ve yet to come across another single person who intimidates me…except my mom. She makes some of my Marine COs look like kindergarten teachers.
“Hey Vicky,” Destiny says. “Has Carol punched in yet?” She tosses her eyes at Mr. Hendrick’s. “I’m giving her that table as soon as she does.”
“She just clocked in,” Mom answers, glancing suspiciously at the table. “What’s the issue?”
Destiny shrugs a shoulder and picks up the tray of drinks I slide across the bar to her. “That guy needs to get over himself. Carol’s better at dealing with people like that.”
It’s the “take no crap” chromosome in the Silo family gene pool. My cousin is almost as intimidating as Mom. She has a way of putting pricks like that in their place without them even realizing how it happened.
Just as I’m thinking it, I see her pass by the porthole in the wooden door to the kitchen, pulling her dark curls back into a ponytail. A second later, she pushes through the door.
She looks at the three of us and her eyes narrow as she slings her short, black apron under her bulging belly and ties it. “You guys do know that when everyone clams up and stares at you when you walk into a room, that’s a dead giveaway they were talking about you, right?”
“All good, cuz,” I say, lifting one hand in surrender while picking up my bar rag with the other.
She gives us a glare that could fry bacon. “I’m not fat.”
“No, you’re not,” Destiny says, handing her the tray of drinks. “But I’m punching out and I need you to take that table.”
Carol’s gaze shifts to the table in question. “What’s wrong with them?”
“The guy’s a sanctimonious prick,” I say wiping down the bar. “He needs to be reminded his shit still stinks in the way only you can.”
A slow smile pulls at her mouth and she takes the drink tray.
“He’s the Tom Collins,” Destiny says. “The chardonnay is for the girl on his right and the Cosmos are for the other two.”
She bats her eyelashes and starts toward the table. “Coming right up,” she says, all breathy and sweet.
Mom turns to me once she’s gone, her frown deepening. “I came out here to remind you to put a note in the drawer if you pull petty cash, Bran.”
I give her a dubious smirk. “Really, Ma? I’ve been doing this for almost a year. Think I’ve got the drill down by now.”
“Well, the drawer came up exactly sixty short last night. So how else do you explain that?”
I feel my brows lift. My drawer’s never off by anything more than a few pennies. “You sure you didn’t pull it for the wine order?”
She scowls at me and crow’s feet crease the corners of her eyes. “I might be old, but I’m not senile yet.”
For her age, I have to say Mom looks pretty damn amazing. She met Dad sometime in the stone ages, when she used to dance at a strip club in San Francisco, and even still, I can see why he picked her out of the crowd. She’s got a deep worry line at the inside corner of her right eyebrow, but otherwise her face is deceptively youthful. The only thing that gives her age away is the skunk stripe that starts on the left side of her forehead and winds through the sea of dark hair pinned onto the back of her head like a the first swirl of cream into black coffee.
“I didn’t take any cash, Ma. Seriously.”
She sighs wearily and rubs her eyes. “It’s been a long day. I’ll check the numbers again tomorrow morning when I can think.”
I lean down and give her a peck on the cheek. “’Night, Ma.”
She hooks her elbow around my neck and yanks me in for a hug. “See you tomorrow, baby boy.”
She’s the only one I’d ever let call me baby or honey or any shit like that because, like I said, I’m a little scared of her. I watch her disappear through the kitchen door.
And then it’s just Destiny, waiting for an answer.
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I turn to her. “Listen, Destiny. There’s no question you are fucking amazing, and I had an awesome time the other night…but I feel like you might have gotten the wrong idea about what this is.” I drop the bar rag and splay my hands on the bar between us, holding her gaze. I may be a dick, but I’ve got a moral compass that points in the right general direction most of the time. She deserves to be told straight up. “I’m not the kind of guy that does relationships, and even if I were, you wouldn’t want one with me.”
It’s not like I expect her to whine or beg. I’ve only known her for a week, since Mom hired her for day shifts, but she seems generally more together than that.
What I also don’t expect is a shameless smile to spread over her face as she leans closer. “So, are you saying that pounding me until I scream your name is too much of a commitment?”
I blow out a laugh and give my head a slow shake. “This isn’t how I pictured this conversation going.”
She pushes away from the bar and unties her apron. “I’ll be back before closing. Maybe have a drink or two. And when you leave, if you take me with you, you won’t be sorry. If not…” She shrugs. “…no harm no foul.”
I watch as she disappears through the kitchen door behind Mom to punch out. Carol drops another drink order on the bar on her way to the kitchen and I go back to work.
The Friday evening crowd picks up and it’s not long before all the tables are full and patrons start lining the bar. I dim the lights—the closest we come to ambiance.
The Sam Hill Saloon has been here since the gold rush, when the town of Oak Crest was established as a mining camp. After they got married, Dad brought Mom out here and bought her this bar to keep her “busy,” since he didn’t want her taking off her clothes for horny men anymore. She got it in the divorce and has run it for the last thirty years, but the truth is, almost nothing here has changed for nearly three quarters of a century. There are pictures on the walls of grimy gold miners lined up at this very bar. Even most of the chunky wooden barstools and tables have survived. At some point, some owner lined the front wall under the windows with three booths, and Mom added a big-screen TV, but other than that, it looks exactly like the pictures. And there’s the faint stench of stale beer emanating from the floor planking that no amount of bleach will ever get out.
But it’s a landmark, and the only bar in town, so we’re usually busy.
I’m blending a pair of frozen daiquiris with one hand and shaking a martini with the other when out of the corner of my eye, I see a solo blonde slide onto the barstool at the end, near the beer taps. I finish what I’m doing and prepare the tray for Carol to pick up before glancing over and seeing its Destiny.
A guy in the middle of the bar makes eye contact and nods at his empty beer mug. I grab it and start filling without really looking up at her. “Didn’t think I’d see you again till closer to closing.”
“Sorry?” she says. “Are you talking to me?”
The voice is off—slightly raspy and a pitch lower than her usual. I look up again and squint at her, wondering if she’s already started drinking. She’s taken her straight hair down from the ponytail she always wears it in and it’s not as long as I remember it from the other night—the only other time I’ve seen it down. There’s also a fading blue stripe cutting through the platinum over her right ear that I’ve never noticed before.
“What can I get you?” I ask her instead of pushing it.
I’m already reaching for the vodka and cranberry to start on a Madras, her drink of choice last week, when she answers, “Rum and Coke.”
“That’s different,” I mutter, shooting her another glance.
She gives me a puzzled look. “Look, I really just wanted to find out if you hire entertainment.”
My face mirrors her puzzlement, I’m sure, as I try to process her statement. “Why?”
She hunches to the side and pulls something up from her feet. I see it’s a battered black guitar case when the narrow end peeks over the top of the bar. “Because I need a gig.”
“Didn’t know you played,” I say, pushing her drink across the bar to her.
That baffled look is back as she pulls it toward her and takes a swallow. I can’t help following the curve of her long neck downward toward a pair of large round tits perfectly outlined by her snug, low-cut T-shirt. She is definitely hot, and if we’re on the same page, then I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. She wants me to fuck her till she screams? I’m perfectly capable of that. She sets her drink down and catches me staring. She cuts me that wicked smile again, causing my cock to stir. I return the smile, sending the innuendo right back at her.
She props her elbows onto the bar and leans forward, giving me a clear look down her shirt. “Considering that we’ve never met before, I don’t find that surprising.”
I’m so absorbed in images of my face buried in those magnificent tits that it takes me a second to process what she said.
My eyes snap to hers. “Wait…what?”
She reaches across the bar, offering me a hand. “Lilah.”
There’s a full second all I can do is stare, wondering if this is one of those split personality things you hear about sometimes. And in that second, through the dim lighting, I take in all the tiny details—a dark mole at the outer corner of her right eye; her eyes, silver instead of blue; the missing white crescent-shaped scar above Destiny’s right eyebrow; and lips, a little fuller than I remember—which are smirking at me now.
“You’re not Destiny,” I say as it all clicks.
It’s not a question, but she shakes her head. “No. I am most definitely not Destiny.”
“Twins?” I ask.
She cocks her head playfully. “What do you think?”
“You’ve got to be. You’re fucking identical except for the eyes.” I tap my forehead. “And you’re missing a scar.”
Her perfect blond eyebrow raises in amusement. “She’s the pretty one and I’m the smart one.”
I bark out a laugh as I reach across and shake her hand. “Bran Silo. Good to meet you.”
She doesn’t let go of my hand for a second after we’re done shaking—just long enough to send a clear message that she’s interested.
A knot forms in my gut, and I realize it’s guilt. Destiny and I have an understanding, but regardless, I’m pretty sure fucking her sister would be way outside the bounds of gentlemanly behavior. Not that anyone would ever mistake me for a gentleman. “Destiny never mentioned she had a sister.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” She takes another drink, nearly polishing it off in a few big gulps.
I tip my head at it her glass. “Another?”
“My limit is one,” she says, pushing her glass toward me. “Just Coke this time, thanks.”
Carol sweeps by on her way to the kitchen, dropping an order on my bar. “Thought you left,” she says to Lilah without slowing down. “Careful or your favorite customer might ask for you,” she adds, jerking her head at Mr. Hendricks as she disappears through the swinging door.
I bark out a laugh as I scoop ice into Lilah’s glass and fill it with Coke. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”
Lilah shrugs. “Happens all the time.” She slides out of her chair, lifting the guitar case. “So do you want to hear me play or what?”
I look around the crowded room, loud with chatter, drowning out the background music. “We don’t generally have live entertainment,” I say, which is really an understatement. We’ve never had live entertainment. But for some reason, I’m not willing to shut Lilah down so fast.
When my eyes find her again, annoyed impatience shines loud and clear out of her gaze. “So that’s a no?”
I feel my mouth pull into a cocky half-smile. “I didn’t say that.”
She opens her case and pulls out her guitar, unabashedly climbing through the window I left ajar for her. I watch as she sets herself up on the stool and rests the guitar in her lap, gripping it softly but confidently. She starts strumming, and I expect her to be discrete, since this is basically an audition, but there’s not a shred of self-consciousness or embarrassment anywhere in her disposition as she begins to belt out lyrics—an old No Doubt song that I can’t remember the name of.
The way she plays, as if on instinct; the passion in her voice, and the fact that she’s really fucking good, starts to turn heads at the tables closest to us. As they quiet and listen, more tables still, and soon the only thing she’s competing to be heard over is the Kat Country on the speakers. But she doesn’t decrease her volume. If anything, as eyes find her, she becomes louder, feeding off the attention.
I reach under the bar and click off the stereo, then lean onto the back counter and cross my arms, listening as she finishes one song and launches into the next.
A guy at the bar pulls a five from his pocket and flags me down with it. I grab his beer mug, but he shakes his head. “Is there a tip jar?” he asks with a nod toward Lilah.
I pull a fresh mug from under the bar and he slips the five inside, then I set it at the end of the bar near Lilah. She cuts me a smile and her eyes slide down my body as she sings.
And fuck me. I lean my hands on the bar and press against the lower counter when my dick won’t yield to my will. Without a doubt, everything Destiny has going on, Lilah’s got that and more.EACH BOOK CAN BE READ AS A STAND-ALONE

About the Mia Storm:

Mia Storm is a hopeless romantic who is always searching for her happy ending. Sometimes she’s forced to make one up. When that happens, she’s thrilled to be able to share those stories with her readers. She lives in California and spends much of her time in the sun with a book in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, or hiking the trails in Yosemite. Connect with her online at MiaStormAuthor.blogspot.com , on Twitter at @MiaStormAuthor, and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MiaStormAuthor

Screwed by Kendall Ryan…Cover & Chapter Reveal

We are very excited for this brand new standalone from Kendall Ryan. Releasing on September 15 we get a peek at a sexy romantic comedy from the NYT Bestselling author.

I have one rule: Don’t shit where you eat.
Several of the women in the condo complex I own would love some one-on-one playtime, and why wouldn’t they? I’m young, fit, attractive, and loaded. Not to mention I’m packing a sizable bulge below the belt. It’s a combination that drops panties on a regular basis.

Yay, me, right?

But my cock, troublemaker that he is, has been confined to my trousers by my business partner. A concession I agreed to, and one that’s never been hard to enforce until Emery moves in across the hall. She’s smart, young, determined, and sexy as hell. I want a taste. I won’t stop until I’m buried deep inside the succulent new-in-town brunette.

After being warned about my past, she does her best to steer clear, but I’m about to show her that underneath it all, I’m a guy with a heart of gold and a cock of steel.

My name is Hayden Oliver, and this is my story.

SCREWED is standalone romantic comedy by New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Kendall Ryan. ADD TO GOODREADS

EXCLUSIVE iBooks Pre-Order

Chapter One

Hayden

Goddamn. This is going to be harder than I thought.

My eyes swing over to admire the most perfect pear-shaped ass I’ve
ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on while my business partner Hudson
continues lecturing me. I think it’s something important, but there’s nothing
more urgent than my body’s reaction to this shapely brunette. Jesus.
Those tits are definitely real.

“I mean it. Your cock is cut off this time,” Hudson says roughly,
his tone biting.

Tearing my gaze away from the succulent new brunette moving into
unit 4B, I face him. “Not literally cut off. I’m sort of attached to him. You
realize that, right?”

“Well it’s on lock down then. No more of this bullshit. I had
three calls this week alone from hysterical women – our tenants – who you, how
do I put this delicately? You fucked and then left before their pussies were
even dry.”

I smirk at him, but I can’t deny the accusation. We’re like the
real life Melrose Place. Sexy young twenty-somethings all living in close
proximity. There’s bound to be a little drama now and again. Together, Hudson
and I own thirty buildings in the greater Los Angeles area. And some of our
buildings have very fuckable tenants. Up until this point, I’d considered that
a nice bonus, and a perk of the job. Hudson has apparently viewed it
differently.

“Who’s that?” I ask, tipping my head toward the bombshell who’s
responsible for all the blood rushing to my groin. Fuck. I should have a
word with her about that, that’s not cool.

Hudson’s eyes swing to the left to see what, or rather, who has
captured my attention. And who’s given me this semi-chub, which I hope he
hasn’t noticed. We’re close, but we’re not that close.

“No, no, no. Don’t get any ideas. You’re not tagging that.”

She’s not close enough to overhear us, but I shoot him a scowl
anyway. “Show some class, man. Tagging is such a juvenile word. I’d take my
time, get her hot and ready first, until she was begging for me to fill her
tight, little cunt.”

“I’m fucking serious. You’re not to even think about her tight
cunt.”

“So you acknowledge she’s got a tight cunt?” I smile, proud of
myself.

He wipes sweat from his brow, looking worried. “Hayden, I’m
serious this time.” His voice has taken on a somber tone, and for once, I try
to be serious and focus.

Watching the way the vein throbs in his neck, my smile fades.
We’re standing outside of one of our nicest buildings just outside of downtown,
and the mid-afternoon sun is beating down on us. Suddenly I want to get away from
him, and away from this entire conversation and into the cool air conditioning
inside. Shit has gotten a little too real for me.

“You know me,” I grin at him, trying to lighten the mood. “I just
wanted to have some casual fun.” And if that meant sleeping my way through the
LA singles scene, so be it. I’m not looking for something deeper. I have a
luxury condo in the heart of the Hollywood Hills, drive a new model BMW and
possess a nine-inch cock. Translation: Life is good. Or it was, until Hudson
decided to get a bug up his ass and lay down the law today.

“Did you hear a word I just said? One of your latest conquests
threatened to report our company to the Better Business Bureau for unethical
business practices. This isn’t just about you. This affects me too. And I’ll be
damned if I watch everything we’ve built go down in flames because you can’t
keep your dick in your pants.”

“Point taken.” Hudson is pretty much the best friend, and best
business partner you could ask for. He’s smart as hell, dedicated, works like a
dog day and night. And not to mention when we began our real estate investment
company five years ago, he single-handedly fronted all the start-up capital
from his own savings and trust fund. It took me years to pay him back as the
profits rolled in, and he never once made me feel lesser, or like I was in debt
to him. Not to mention, he’s funny, well-off, and good looking. He’s an
excellent wing-man. Plus he knows the best taco joints.

Unable to help myself, my eyes drift over to her again. 4B fills
out a pair of yoga pants in ways that I doubt are even legal in most countries.
I needed to know what was underneath those curve-hugging black athletic pants.
Simple cotton panties, or a naughty g-string? Either way, I wanted to bury my
fingers inside the waistband of those pants, peel them down her hips and find
out. Perhaps it was because Hudson just made her forbidden fruit, but I wanted
a taste. My damn mouth was practically watering.

She looked smart, and put together, despite her casual attire, including
a tank top and tennis shoes. With a clipboard in one hand, and her trusty
number two pencil in the other, she ticked items off of her list, and
instructed the movers who were unloading and carrying boxes up to her new place
– which just so happened to be directly underneath mine.

“You’re not going to last three minutes let alone three days.” Hudson
grimaces, glancing over again at our newest resident.

“What do you know about her?”

He rolls his eyes, but humors me. “Emery Elaine Winters. She’s an attorney.
Excellent references. Even better credit score, and she signed a one year
lease. And she’s to remain in pristine condition, or so help me God …”

When I glance up at her again, I see Roxy, another of our residents
has joined Emery on the sidewalk, and they appear to be making small talk.
Shaking hands, exchanging words, and smiling at each other. There’s something I
strongly dislike about these two women talking. Roxy is an exotic dancer, and
she I have a bit of a rocky past. Which is a huge fucking understatement, but
not something I care to dwell on now. Hudson mentions something about fourth
quarter taxes, and I tune him out, sure I just heard my name on Roxy’s
over-glossed lips.

“Excuse me, I’ve got business to attend to.” I step around him,
heading straight toward my new prize. Roxy spots me, and takes off for the
parking area.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hudson calls after me.

“Just being neighborly. Someone’s got to properly welcome Miss
Winters.”

“Dammit, Hayden,” I hear him shout.

“I’ve got this, buddy,” I shout back over my shoulder.

I can control myself around her. I have to, according to Hudson. I
don’t like being told what to do, especially where my cock was concerned, and
hell, it’ll probably only make me want her more, but as I close the distance
between Emery and me, I make a plan.

Friends.

I would become friends with the
so-hot-I-wanted-to-bend-her-over-and-fuck-her-in-broad-daylight new girl.

This was either the best plan I’d ever had, or would end with me
sporting a black eye, courtesy of my best friend.

It’s go time.

Kendall Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance novels, including Hard to Love, Unravel Me, Resisting Her and When I Break.

She’s a sassy, yet polite Midwestern girl with a deep love of books, and a slight addiction to lipgloss. She lives in Minneapolis with her adorable husband and two baby sons, and enjoys hiking, being active, and reading.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras

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Heart Shaped Hack by Tracey Garvis Graves….Chapter Reveal

–

When Kate Watts abandoned her law career to open a food pantry in Northeast Minneapolis, she never dreamed it would be this difficult. Facing the heartbreaking prospect of turning hungry people away, she is grateful for the anonymous donations that begin appearing at the end of each month. Determined to identify and thank her secret benefactor, she launches a plan and catches Ian —a charismatic hacker with a Robin Hood complex—in the act.

Ian intrigues Kate in a way no man ever has. But after learning he’s snooped around on her personal computer, she demands retribution. Impressed with her tolerance and captivated by her spirit, he complies and begins to slowly charm his way past her defenses. Time spent with Ian is never boring, and Kate soon finds herself falling for the mysterious hacker.

But Ian has enemies and they’re growing restless. In the hacking world, exploiting a target’s weakness is paramount, and no price is too high to stop an attack. And when Kate learns exactly how much Ian has paid, she’ll discover just how strong her love is for the man who has hacked his way into her heart.

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Heart-Shaped Hack

CHAPTER ONE

“The babies are going to starve,” Helena said.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kate replied. “No one is going to starve, least of all the babies.” But her pinched expression and the way she was jabbing at the keyboard as she refreshed the donations page on their website said otherwise. For the first time in the sixteen months since Kate had left her position as a corporate attorney to open the food pantry, she faced the heartbreaking prospect of turning hungry people away. She couldn’t stand the thought of letting down her regulars, especially the young mother of three who relied on the pantry to feed them.
The problem was that Kate’s nonprofit organization was not the only one in Minneapolis that needed help. Tomorrow was the first of September, and everyone was trying to stockpile whatever resources they could before they headed into the colder months.
“Let’s see,” Helena said. “We could rob a bank. We could pawn our valuables. You could sell your body on a street corner.”
Despite their dire circumstances, Kate cracked a smile. Helena had walked through the front door of the food pantry shortly after Kate opened and said, “I’m sixty-five, and they’re forcing me to retire from my job at the insurance company. My husband retired two years ago, and now he’s home all day. That’s too much togetherness for us. I have to find something to do outside the house, and you wouldn’t have to pay me much.” Kate hired her on the spot and had never regretted it.
She swiveled her chair toward Helena. “Why am I always the one who has to sell her body? Why can’t you sell yours?”
“Who do you think is going to bring in more money? A gray-haired grandmother of seven, or a willowy twenty-nine-year-old beauty? It’s a no-brainer.”
It was hard to argue with logic like that.
Kate had been so determined not to let down their clients that she’d resorted to begging her ex-boyfriend Stuart—who worked as the executive producer on an hour-long talk show on the local ABC station—to let her appeal to the public during the afternoon broadcast.
“Do you know how hard it is for me to be around you, Kate?” Stuart said when he received her call. “Do you ever think of that?”
“Of course I do. But this is really important to me.”
“I used to be really important to you.”
Kate remained silent. They’d been through this before.
He sighed in defeat. “Come in tomorrow. I’ll squeeze you in after the cooking segment.”
“Thanks, Stuart.”
The skirt had been Helena’s idea. “We need to do whatever we can to grab viewers’ attention.”
“You mean I need to do whatever I can.”
“Of course I mean you. You have great legs.”On the day of the broadcast when Helena arrived at the food pantry, Kate said, “I don’t remember this skirt being quite so short. I’m actually a little worried about the type of viewer I might attract with it.” She tugged on the hem, pulled out her desk chair, sat down, and crossed her legs. “Can you see anything?”
“You’ll be fine unless you decide to recross your legs in the middle of the segment like Sharon Stone did in that one movie.”
“I can assure you I will not be doing that. The skirt is as far as I’m willing to go. I draw the line at flashing people, not even for the babies.”
Kate had paired the black-and-white houndstooth skirt with a black short-sleeve top and her favorite black heels. When she arrived at the TV studio, she ducked into the bathroom to check her teeth for wandering lipstick. Before she left the food pantry she’d applied a raspberry lip stain that Helena claimed looked stunning on her. That morning she’d curled her long dark hair and then brushed through the curls with her fingers so they draped across her shoulders and down her back in loose waves. She’d used plenty of mascara to play up her brown eyes. The extra primping made her feel a little like she was standing on a street corner, but she banished those thoughts. At this point, they needed all the help they could get.
After Stuart snaked the mic up the back of her top, his hands lingering on her skin in a way that made Kate feel sad, he positioned her on a stool and told her to wait for his signal. She kept her legs tightly crossed, and when the light on the camera turned red, he pointed at her and she began to speak.
“Good afternoon. My name is Kate Watts, and I’m the executive director of the Main Street Food Pantry. As we head into the winter months, our needs—and those of all local food pantries—will be greater than ever.” Kate stared into the camera, imagining she was speaking directly to anyone who might have the means to help them.
“No child should ever have to go hungry, and many of our local residents depend on the food pantry to feed their families. I’m here today to personally appeal to you should you have the ability to help us in any way. The families we assist, and especially the children, depend on your generosity more than you could ever imagine. Thank you.” She ended the short segment with the food pantry’s telephone number and street address, and when Stuart gave her the all clear, she reached under her shirt for the microphone and handed it back to him.
“Thanks, Stuart,” she said, giving him a quick hug. “I really appreciate this.”
“Sure,” he said, looking over her shoulder as if there was something very interesting across the room. “Take care, Kate.”That was yesterday, and so far only a few additional donations had trickled in. She and Helena spent the rest of the afternoon making calls to local churches and schools to set up additional food drives while continuing to monitor the donations page. Finally, at a little before three, Kate went into the back room to recount their inventory. It was the end of the month and they were down to their last cases of infant formula and baby food. Almost all of the canned vegetables had been depleted, and they were completely out of peanut butter and soup. If it was this bad now, Kate didn’t want to think about what might happen when budgets were stretched even thinner by holiday spending. Dejected, she was sitting on the floor, clipboard in hand, when Helena burst into the back room.
“I ran after him,” she said, gasping for breath. “But he was too fast. Boy am I out of shape.”
“Who did you run after?”
Helena tossed a brown paper bag to Kate and leaned over, resting her hands on her knees as she took in giant gulps of air.
“The man who dropped off the money. Seriously, I may need supplemental oxygen over here.”
Money?
Kate looked into the bag and blinked several times. “Did you lock the front door?”
“Yes.”
She turned the bag upside down and watched in disbelief as hundred-dollar bills rained down on the concrete floor. She counted it quickly. “There’s a thousand dollars here.”
Their website listed four levels for donations with amounts ranging from ten to one hundred dollars. There were higher amounts for corporations, but this was the largest donation they’d ever received from one person, and it was more than enough to replenish their shelves. Kate was already picturing herself pushing a giant cart through Costco. “Did he leave his name?”
“No. He walked up to my desk and said, “Give this to Katie. He must have seen you on TV yesterday.”
“Young? Old?” Rich?
“Young. Early thirties, maybe? Tall. Blondish-brown hair. He was in a real hurry to leave. I chased him out the door, but he jumped into the driver’s seat of an old blue car.”
“An old car? Are you sure?”
“I think it was old. It didn’t look like any car I’ve ever seen. It had stripes on the hood. And then he burned rubber.”
“Why would someone who drives an old car drop off a bag full of money?”
“I have no idea. But whatever the reason, he just saved us.”

Continue Reading Through Chapter 5 HERE

Tracey Garvis Graves is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author. Her debut novel, On the Island, spent 9 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, has been translated into twenty-seven languages, and is in development with MGM and Temple Hill Productions for a feature film. She is also the author of Uncharted, Covet, Every Time I Think of You, and Cherish.

Tracey loves to interact with her readers and can be found on Facebook and Twitter.

Goodreads Amazon Author Page

Her Soldier by H.J. Bellus…Cover and First Chapter Reveal

Release Date: March 10^th

Publisher: Limitless Publishing

Photography By: Perrywinkle Photography

Models: Teale Shawn Murdock & Aaron Lesue’

Cover Design: RedbirdDesigns

Sergeant Jeremiah Abbner died in the line of duty serving his
country. Or at least that’s what the newspapers said…

The US Government handed him a new identity, and
strict orders not to make contact with anyone from his past. As far as society
was concerned Sergeant Jeremiah Abbner was dead, and buried six feet under.

Not having contact with his ex-wife would be

easy. She was a manipulator and a cheater.

Not seeing his daughter on the other hand would

devastate him…

Beau Morgan, aka Jeremiah, settles down in a
town far away from everything he’s ever known. Coping with the trauma he’s
experienced and discovering a new life Beau finds himself the most aggressive
he’s ever been. His blood simmers with rage while his fists are thirsty to let
it all out .

In the middle of his own living hell he never
expected to run into an old familiar face. And to top it off, one who
recognized him as Jeremiah.

He’s vowed never to love again, but as
circumstances land him in the arms of a woman, Jenni Lee, this time he may not
have a choice, as she rarely takes no for an answer.

Can Beau Morgan control his temper long enough
to settle into his new life? Or will resentment taint him forever?

Chapter 1

Streetlights
whiz past my peripheral vision as I roar down Main Street to the restaurant. The
familiar rage inside me begins to boil. Just the mention of that name can do
dangerous things to me internally. I never want to hear it again. Everything
was taken away from me with that name.

I
try to focus on Michelle’s face instead of the rage. She looked so different,
yet it was the same girl. I could tell from her tattoo. What a mysterious mind
fuck that girl is. I searched everywhere for her after the night she abandoned
me at the tattoo parlor. Her wrist. Holy fuck. It hits me if that’s Michelle, I
knew then she’d have a lump on her wrist, because I can guarantee she never
visited a hospital.

The
night we spent together was something magical. There aren’t many things in my
life I’d classify as magical—my gran’s baking, the birth of my child, and that
night with her. She had a serious effect on me, but ran. She literally ran off
into the night. I deployed two months later. End of story.

My
thoughts occupied me while loading the food and heading back to the reception.
As I step out of the delivery truck, a sound catches my ear. It’s not one many
would pick up on, but I do easily. Someone is being beaten. The darkness of the
night with the faraway lights makes it easier for me to detect the sound of
bones being beaten. I spent many nights this way.

The
ground is uneven, with little paths leading in every direction. Being
unfamiliar with the lay of the land is making it beyond difficult to maneuver
my way to the punches. A desperate plea sounds, making me damn near desperate
to find where it’s coming from. Instinctively, I reach for my gun, but only
find keys in my pocket. Army life is still so second nature that even after
years I find myself reverting to old habits.

“You
fucking cunt.” The voice becomes clearer, and the surroundings light up a bit.
Finally rounding a corner, I spot a petite blonde cowered down on the ground
with a brooding man standing above her. It’s clear by the sheer size of the man
he would be able to snap her neck in a second. The pale pink color of the
wedding party catches my eye, and instantly I wonder if it’s Michelle. There’s
way too much blonde hair. It’s not her.

The
blonde lifts her face up from the ground, and this is when I lose it. Blood is
flowing down her face, making her features difficult to recognize. Her hair is
pulled out of its fancy up-do. The man jerks her up by the hair to a standing
position.

Everything
inside me boils. Clearly, the situation is exactly what I think it is.

“You’re
going home with me right now, Jenni. I’ll fucking drag you if I have to.” The
man pulls the helpless woman closer to him, tearing her pink dress with the
action. “You’ll never hang around the Wilks boys again.”

Stepping
into the slice of light covering the duo, I ask, “Is there a problem here?”

I
feel the rage inside me boil further, if that’s even possible, when her brown
eyes reflect back at me. She’s beyond desperate and scared. I’ve seen this look
on civilians before, and every time it turns on a switch within me. I’m not
playing the hero card. It’s more like knowing the difference between right and
wrong and acting on it. It takes someone to make a stand.

The
blonde is pulled even tighter into the man, and the sound of her dress being completely
ripped from the top of her body fills the air.

“We’re
fucking fine, man. Leave.”

I
move in closer to the situation, watching her reaction as I do. Once I make eye
contact with her, I don’t break it. “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the
young lady.” My gaze bores holes into her desperate eyes. “Are you okay?”

She
begins to speak, but the man rips on her hair again. This time is enough. I
don’t wait for an answer or another moan of pain from the woman. Before I know
what is happening, I step up and hammer the man in the face. Taken by surprise,
he lets go of the girl. I grab for her and push her behind me to safety. However,
my need to punish this man isn’t nearly satisfied. He’ll pay for every single
ounce of pain he’s inflicted on her.

My
fists fly into action, nailing him with each blow. Now the sound of crunching
bones is caused by me and well deserved. I leave him with one final kick to the
ribs. I’m fairly certain he’s unconscious, as his moans and begging have now
stopped. I wipe my bloody knuckles on the back of my pants before turning to
face the woman.

She’s
cowered back down on the ground with her face buried. Her blonde mane is
splayed out over knees and is dappled with spots of blood. I’m pretty sure
she’s past the point of being cleaned up to go back to the wedding.

“Are
you okay?” I mentally berate myself for asking such a dumbass question. Of
course she’s not okay. My hands fumble a bit before they finally grab for her
and rest on the top of her knee. I push away her loose hair before I find her
exposed kneecap, which is scraped up too. “What can I do?”

She doesn’t respond with words. Instead her
body shudders as her tears flow. She’s beyond talking and clearly not okay.

“I’m
going to get you out of here.” I pat her knee, finding a piece of her flesh
that’s not damaged. I run my hand up and down this spot trying to comfort her.
“I’m going to pack you to my truck and take you where you need to go. Would you
like me to let anyone know you’re leaving?”

I
watch as her long hair sways back and forth, signaling no.

“No
to me helping you, or to letting someone know?”

She
slowly drags her head up to look at me, with her hair matted to both sides of
her face. Her left eye is swollen shut, while most of the blood has started to
dry up.

“Don’t
tell anyone, please. I need to leave,” escapes her cut lips.

Without
any further questioning, I stand and go back to the man who caused all of this
and give him a little more of what I think of him. This time the sound of his
bone crushing under my fist feels even better than last time.

I
don’t take long because I don’t want to leave her in too much pain and in front
of her assailant. Slowly and with more ease than I’ve used in years, I pick her
up in my arms. The top half of her dress falls away from her body, while the
skirt portion barely hangs onto her. She’s tense in my arms, not one bit
relaxed or comforted.

I’ll
never understand the urge to lay a hand on a woman. I’ve been pissed before at
the opposite sex, but using my fists to solve the problem has never even
crossed my mind.

With
each step I take toward the parking lot, I feel her become more panicked. Her
tiny hands grab at my biceps, clenching tight.

“It’s
okay. I’m just going to take you to my truck, and then to wherever you need to
go.” She finally makes eye contact with me, and I think she might believe I’m
not the enemy, but I want to reassure her. “I won’t hurt you. I can even call
the cops right now and get you help.”

Music
fills the dark night air as we close in on the parking lot. When she hears the
music, she begins to sob in my arms.

“Do
you want me to go get one of your friends?”

“No.”

Her
sobs continue as she clings harder to my arm, but the rest of her body begins
to relax a bit. I desperately want to keep talking to her, or even hold her
longer to show her I’m not the enemy and will never hurt her. I’m not sure how
to act in this situation. We are two strangers in a very difficult situation.

“Okay,
this is my truck. Are you sure you don’t want me to go get someone?”

This
time she struggles from my arms and tries to stand on her own. Of course her
fragile little body can’t handle it. I steady her and keep her from collapsing
to the ground. Her bare chest is exposed to the world, with a dainty, baby blue
bra covering her. I pull off my white button up staff shirt and cover her up
with it.

“Please
don’t tell anyone. Please? They’ll just think I’m an idiot.” She fiddles with
the hem of my shirt as she sits in the front seat staring at her feet. “And
they aren’t that far off.”

“Don’t.”
I grab her hand, stopping her from fiddling and berating herself. “Don’t you
dare think that way.”

“Beau.”
I turn to see one of my co-workers in a frantic state. “Where is the truck with
the food? We are almost out of everything. Boss man, Juan, is going nuts.”

Standing
in front of a co-worker in a white wife beater is somewhat awkward, though no
more than having a beaten woman behind me, but the last thing I want to do is
expose her to anyone. Before I have the chance to speak, a very red faced and
pissed off Juan joins the small crowd.

“Beau,
where in the fuck is the food?” He
pauses, with an odd expression covering his face. “Where’s the company truck?”

I
nod in the direction where I parked the company truck, loaded and ready to go with
food for the reception. His beady black eyes follow my nod and then turn back
to me.

“And
what do you think you’re doing?” Juan throws his hands behind his head in a
fit. “Get back to work now, Beau, and get your fucking shirt on.”

The
woman behind me lets out a light groan as she tries to get out of the truck. Her
shoes are missing, dress ripped, and she’s obviously in an insane amount of
pain.

“Fuck
you, I quit.”

The
words come out effortlessly. The way I see it, there was no other choice. I
round the front of the truck, moving as fast as I can to get next to her. She
needs help.

“I’m
going to take you to the hospital.”

She
faces me with a desperate plea before any words leave her mouth. I know what
her next words will be, but the thing is, I’ve already let one woman in need of
medical attention escape me. I’m not repeating the same mistake. She will go to
the hospital.

I am an independent author excited about releasing my first novel
very soon. A big dream coming true!!! I’m all country…the kinda country where
green grass grows and corn pops up in rows….love Miranda and her bad ass
music!!! Just a simple country girl getting one story out of her head at a
time…I always fall hard for a trucker style hat…especially if it’s a John
Deere hat….loves me a good ol’ farm boy!!!!!!

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Dare to Submit by Carly Phillips…Chapter Hop

Dare to Submit Synopsis:

Decklan Dare knows about the unexpected loss of loved ones and for this reason, he values control in all areas of his life. Amanda Collins enjoys the freedom she finds in casual encounters without the emotional connection a relationship brings. They meet and their physical attraction is mutual but both experience feelings that could run deeper – if they drop their guard and let each other in. Decklan is first to trust, but when he discovers the secret Amanda’s been hiding, will he forgive? Or will he rebuild every wall before she has a chance to explain?

Chapter hop:

Amanda’s ass tingled and her pussy clenched in desperate need. The minute she’d lain down across Decklan’s lap, her head had begun to empty out. Reaching for his legs to anchor herself had felt natural. Right. She deserved the punishment, knowing she’d questioned his words with no good reason behind it except her own insecurities. Her ass was too big, her boobs were too, and so was her stomach. No matter how much she’d dieted in the past, she always had those curves. It was ingrained in her to believe no man would want her.

He claimed otherwise. She needed to believe him. And when the pain transformed into desire, she did. Why else would she bare her ass in front of a room full of people when she never had before? And why did a part of her actually like it? Because it pleased him. That much she understood.
Her sex throbbed, and the more he ran his palm over his handiwork, the more she wanted. Dampness coated her thighs and she needed to come.
He squeezed her cheeks together, and heat bloomed anew between her thighs, her clit pulsing with desperate need.
“Are you wet, baby?”
“God, yes.”
“Let’s see.” He slid a finger around her pussy, gliding over her wet lips, spreading the cream he’d created. “You’re soaking,” he said, pure male satisfaction in his tone.
The whimper that escaped barely sounded like her own.
He eased a finger inside her body, and she clenched around him, attempting to grip him tight, hold him in place. But she wasn’t running this show. Instead, he pumped that single digit in and out of her channel until she began wriggling against him, seeking deeper contact.
He slapped her again, and she dropped her head on a low moan.

BUY LINKS:
Amazon | iTunes

About the author:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips has written over 40 sexy contemporary romance novels that today’s readers identify with and enjoy. After a successful 15 year career with various New York publishing houses, Carly is making the leap to Indie author, with the goal of giving her readers more books at a faster pace at a better price. Her Serendipity books will still finish up in January/February 2014 via Berkley as planned. Carly lives in Purchase, NY with her family, two nearly adult daughters and two crazy dogs who star on her Facebook Fan Page and website. She’s a writer, a knitter of sorts, a wife, and a mom. In addition, she’s a Twitter and Internet junkie and is always around to interact with her readers.

Links:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

What happened in chapter 11 – chapter 15?:

Favourite Quotes:

Discussion Questions:

Giveaway

Follow along with the Suspicious Minds Read-A-Long!

Make sure to join InkSlinger PR on Monday, February 22nd to begin the read-a-long of Sydney’s story, Again, the fourth book in the Fate series.

About Elizabeth Reyes

Today we are revealing chapter one from THE BLOOD SCION by Nazarea Andrews. This book will be released on November 24th and it is the beginning of a brand new series from Nazarea, The Scion Legacy. Don’t miss picking up The Scionless House, a novella in the series, because it is FREE!

Click here to add THE BLOOD SCION to Goodreads

THE BLOOD SCION Blurb:

Chapter 1: The Reporter

Get THE SCIONLESS HOUSE for FREE!

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

Click here to add THE SCIONLESS HOUSE to Goodreads

THE SCIONLESS HOUSE Blurb:

Chapter 1 Bran

We are very excited for this brand new standalone from Kendall Ryan. Releasing on September 15 we get a peek at a sexy romantic comedy from the NYT Bestselling author.

Chapter One

Chapter hop:

Chapter 1
Bran