Excerpt Reveal….Entice Me by J. Kenner

entice-me-0-days-rectangle

 

julie_enticeme300dpi360x576From New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner comes a sensually seductive novella starring fan favorites Damien Stark and his wife, Nikki Fairchild.

Includes a special preview of Anchor Me, the highly anticipated fourth full-length novel featuring Nikki & Damien as they begin the next chapter in their life together.

I didn’t understand passion until I met Damien, the man who turned my world upside down and swept me off my feet.

And though our life together feels perfect, we can’t escape our secrets–and the danger that continually threatens to surface.

But for one night, I seek a respite. A birthday wish for my husband, my lover, my friend—one absolutely perfect night.

It is my most ardent wish.

And I only hope that it will come true…

 

Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Kobo UK

 

He bends down so that his lips graze my ear. “Dance for me, baby. Right now.”
”Is that what you want?” I ask. “To watch me dance? Because I have something else in mind.”
His brow rises. “Do you?”
“Mmm,” I say, then start humming as I pull out my phone and find my current favorite song on my workout playlist. A little fast. A little raunchy. A lot fun. I click the button to send it through our sound system, and when the music starts, I press my hand to Damien’s chest and jauntily strut forward, forcing him backward to the padded bench that is intended as a place to sit and wait for the elevator. Right now, I have a different purpose in mind.
“I’ll dance,” I say, doing a shimmy and pulling off my T-shirt in the process. “I’ll even do a stripper dance,” I add. “But I don’t do solo shows. I require full participation.”
“Do you?”
“Absolutely,” I say, turning around so that my back is to him as I shake and shimmy in time with the music and very, very slowly ease my skirt off.
When I turn around, I’m dressed only in my bra and panties, and though I should feel silly, I don’t. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the lingering high from fucking him in the limo. Maybe it’s the heated way that he’s watching my every move.
Maybe it’s the simple fact that I love my husband.
Whatever the reason, I’m enjoying showing off, turning him on and getting turned on in the process. And as I think that, I slide one hand over my bra and the other down my abdomen to cup myself over my panties.
I have my eyes closed, and the music’s loud, but I still hear Damien’s sharp intake of breath. I figure that’s as good a cue as any, and I open my eyes and strut toward him, then reach out a hand to pull him up.
He complies, amused, and I do my own version of a pole dance, with Damien playing the role of my pole. Up and down, stroking and teasing, shimmying and shaking. It’s a little erotic and a little silly, and by the time I have my bra off and am about to step out of my panties, I’m both desperately wet and giggling furiously.
I bend over to untangle my panties from around my ankle, and when I do, my giggles turn to squeals as Damien scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder. I pound uselessly on his back, then cry out when he pitches me unceremoniously onto the bed.
“What are you–?”
“Shhh.” He puts his finger over his mouth, then strips off his own clothes. And though he doesn’t add any dance moves, I can’t deny that I enjoy the show.
Slowly, he eases onto the bed and straddles me. “I liked your dance,” he says. “I like even more that you did it because I told you I wanted it.”
“Anything you want,” I whisper, my voice throaty. “You know that.”
“I want you,” he says, then brushes a kiss over my lips. “

 

 

entice-me-teaser-4

 

julie-j-kenner-author-photoJ.Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.

Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit.

JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A five time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy). Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development with AwesomenessTV/Awestruck.

Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages.

In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.

WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | YouTube | Amazon Author Page

Ego Maniac by Vi Keeland…Excerpt Reveal

egomanaic-banner

 

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00072]

The night I met Drew Jagger, he’d just broken into my new Park Avenue office.
I dialed 9-1-1 before proceeding to attack him with my fancy new Krav Maga skills.
He quickly restrained me, then chuckled, finding my attempted assault amusing.

Of course, my intruder had to be arrogant.
Only, turned out, he wasn’t an intruder at all.

Drew was the rightful occupant of my new office. He’d been on vacation while his posh space was renovated.
Which was how a scammer got away with leasing me office space that wasn’t really available for rent.
I was swindled out of ten grand.

The next day, after hours at the police station, Drew took pity on me and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. In exchange for answering his phones while his secretary was out, he’d let me stay until I found a new place.
I probably should have acted grateful and kept my mouth shut when I overheard the advice he was spewing to his clients. But I couldn’t help giving him a piece of my mind.
I never expected my body to react every time we argued. Especially when that was all we seemed to be able to do.

The two of us were complete opposites. Drew was a bitter, angry, gorgeous-as-all-hell, destroyer of relationships. And my job was to help people save their marriages.
The only thing the two of us had in common was the space we were sharing.
And an attraction that was getting harder to deny by the day.

ADD TO GOODREADS

 

Available for Pre-order on iBooks, B&N, Google Play, and Kobo now!

Preorder at iBooksPreorder at B&N Preorder at Kobo Preorder at Google PlayPre-order paperback

Receive an alert when it’s live on Amazon

 

Sometimes what you’re looking for comes when you’re not looking at all.

-Unknown


chp1

DREW

I hate New Year’s Eve.

Two hours in traffic to make it not even the nine miles home from LaGuardia. It was after ten o’clock at night. Why weren’t all these people at a party by now? Whatever tension two weeks in Hawaii had relieved was already back to coiling tighter and tighter inside me as the town car inched its way uptown.

I tried not to think about all the work I was coming back to—the endless string of other people’s problems to compound my own:

She cheated.

He cheated.

Get me full custody of the kids.

She can’t have the house in Vail.

All she wants is my money.

She hasn’t given me a blowjob in three years. Listen, asshole, you’re fifty, bald, pompous, and shaped like an egg. She’s twenty-three, hot, and has tits so young they almost reach up to her chin. You want to fix this marriage? Come home with ten Gs in fresh, crisp bills, and tell her to get on her knees. You’ll get your blowjob. She’ll get her spending money. Let’s not pretend it was ever more than it really was. That doesn’t work for you? Unlike your soon-to-be ex-wife, I’ll take a check. Make that out to Drew M. Jagger, Attorney at Law.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling slightly claustrophobic in the back of the Uber, and looked out the window. An old lady with a walker passed us.

“I’ll get out here,” I barked at the driver.

“But you have luggage?”

I was already exiting the back of the car. “Pop the trunk. It’s not like we’re moving anyway.”

Traffic was at a dead stop, and it was only two blocks to my building. Tossing a hundred-dollar tip at the driver, I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and took in a deep breath of Manhattan.

I loved this city as much as I hated it.

575 Park Avenue was a restored pre-war on the southeast corner of Sixty-Third Street—it was an address that gave people preconceived notions about you. Someone with my last name had occupied the building since before the place was converted into overpriced co-ops. Which is why my office was allowed to remain on the ground floor when other commercial tenants were tossed out years ago. I also lived on the top floor.

“Welcome back, Mr. Jagger.” The uniformed doorman greeted me as he swung open the lobby door.

“Thanks, Ed. I miss anything while I was gone?”

“Nah. Same old, same old. Peeked in on your construction the other day, though. Looking good.”

“They use the service entrance down Sixty-Third like they were supposed to?”

Ed nodded. “Sure did. Barely heard them the last few days.”

I dropped my luggage inside my apartment, then headed back downstairs in the elevator to check things out. For the last two weeks, while I was screwing off in Honolulu, my office space had been getting a total renovation. Cracks in the high, plastered ceilings were to be patched and painted, and new floors installed to replace the old, worn parquet.

Thick plastic remained taped over all of the interior doorways when I walked in. The little furniture I hadn’t put in storage was also still covered with tarps. Shit. They aren’t done yet. The contractor had assured me there would only be finish work left by the time I returned. I was right to be skeptical.

Flicking on the lights, I was happy to find the lobby completely done, though. Finally, a New Year’s Eve with no horrible surprises for a change.

I took a quick look around, pleased with what I found, and was just about to leave when I noticed a light streaming from under the door of a small file room at the end of the hallway.

Thinking nothing of it, I headed to turn it off.

Now, I’m six foot two and a half, two hundred and five pounds, and maybe it was just my frame of mind, my not expecting to see anyone, but when I opened the door to the file room, finding her there scared the living crap out of me.

She screamed.

I took a step back through the door.

She got up, stood on the chair, and began yelling at me, waving her cell phone in the air.

“I’ll call the police!” Her fingers shook as she dialed nine, then one, and hovered over the last one. “Get out now, and I won’t call!”

I could have lunged for her, and the phone would have been out of her hand before she realized she hadn’t dialed the final digit. But she looked terrified, so I retreated another step and put my hands up in surrender.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I used my best soothing, calm voice. “You don’t need to call the police. This is my office.”

“Do I look stupid to you? You just broke into my office.”

Your office? I think you took a wrong turn at the corner of Crazy and Nutjob.”

She wobbled atop the chair, holding both arms out to regain her balance, and then…her skirt fell to her feet.

“Get out!” She crouched down and grabbed her skirt, tugging it up to her waist as she turned her back to me.

“Do you take medication, ma’am?”

Medication? Ma’am? Are you joking?”

“You know what?” I motioned to the phone she was still holding. “Why don’t you push that last one and get the police over here. They can drive you back to whatever loony bin you escaped from.”

Her eyes widened.

For a crazy person—now that I was really looking—she was pretty damn cute. Fiery red hair piled on top of her head seemed to match her firecracker personality. Although from the looks of her blazing blue eyes, I was glad I’d held off on telling her that.

She pushed one and proceeded to report the crime of entering one’s own office. “I’d like to report a robbery.”

“Robbery?” I arched an eyebrow and looked around. A lone folding chair and crappy metal folding table were the only furniture in the entire space. “What exactly am I stealing? Your winning personality?”

She amended her complaint to the police. “A breaking and entering. I’d like to report a breaking and entering at 575 Park Avenue.” She paused and listened. “No, I don’t think he’s armed. But he’s big. Really big. At least six feet. Maybe bigger.”

I smirked. “And strong. Don’t forget to tell them I’m strong, too. Want me to flex for you? And maybe you should tell them I have green eyes. Wouldn’t want the police to confuse me with all the other really big thieves hanging out in my office.”

After she hung up, she stayed standing on the chair, still glaring at me.

“Was there also a mouse?” I asked.

“A mouse?”

“Considering you jumped up on that chair.” I chuckled.

“You find this funny?”

“Oddly, I do. And I have no fucking idea why. It should annoy the crap out of me that I come home from a two-week vacation and find a squatter in my office.”

“Squatter? I’m no squatter. This is my office. I moved in a week ago.”

She bobbled again while standing on her chair.

“Why don’t you get down? You’re going to fall off that thing and get hurt.”

“How do I know you’re not going to hurt me when I get down?”

I shook my head and contained my laugh. “Sweetheart, look at the size of me. Look at the size of you. Standing on that chair isn’t doing jack shit to keep you safe. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be out cold on the floor already.”

“I take Krav Maga classes twice a week.”

“Twice a week? Really? Thanks for the warning.”

“You don’t have to ridicule me. Maybe I could hurt you. For an intruder, you’re really kind of rude, you know.”

“Get down.”

After a full minute stare-off, she climbed off the chair.

“See? You’re as safe on the ground as you were up there.”

“What do you want from here?”

“You didn’t call the police, did you? You almost had me there for a second.”

“I didn’t. But I can.”

“Now why would you go and do that? So they can arrest you for breaking and entering?”

She pointed down at her makeshift desk. For the first time, I noticed papers all over the place. “I told you. This is my office. I’m working late tonight because the construction crew was so loud today that I couldn’t get done what I needed to. Why would anyone break and enter to work at ten-thirty at night on New Year’s Eve?”

Construction crew? My construction crew? Something was going on here. “You were here with the construction crew today?”

“Yes.”

I scratched my chin, half believing her. “What’s the foreman’s name?”

“Tommy.”

Shit. She was telling the truth. Well, at least some of it had to be the truth. “You said you moved in a week ago?”

“That’s right.”

“And you rented the space from whom, exactly?”

“John Cougar.”

Both my brows shot up this time. “John Cougar? Did he drop the Mellencamp, by chance?”

“How should I know?”

This wasn’t sounding good. “And you paid this John Cougar?”

“Of course. That’s how renting an office suite works. Two months’ security, first and last month’s rent.”

I shut my eyes and shook my head. “Shit.”

“What?”

“You got conned. How much did all of that cost you? Two months’ security, first and last month? Four months in total?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

“Please tell me you didn’t pay cash.”

Something finally clicked, and the color drained from her pretty face. “He said his bank was closed in the evening, and he couldn’t give me the keys until my check cleared. If I gave him cash, I could move in right away.”

“You paid John Cougar forty thousand dollars in cash?”

“No!”

“Thank God.”

“I paid him ten thousand in cash.”

“I thought you said you paid four months.”

“I did. It was twenty-five hundred a month.”

That did it. Of all the crazy shit I’d heard so far, thinking she could get space on Park Avenue for twenty-five hundred a month took the cake. I broke out in a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re not from New York, are you?”

“No. I just moved here from Oklahoma. What does that have to do with anything?”

I took a step closer. “I hate to break the news to you, Oklahoma, but you got ripped off. This is my office. I’ve been here for three years. My father the thirty before that. I was on vacation the last two weeks and had the office remodeled while I was gone. Someone named after a singer scammed you into giving him cash to rent an office he had no right to rent. Doorman’s name is Ed. Walk through the main building entrance, and he’ll verify everything I just said.”

“That can’t be.”

“What do you do that you need office space?”

“I’m a psychologist.”

I held out my hand. “I’m an attorney. Let me see your contract.”

Her face fell. “He hasn’t brought it by yet. He said the landlord was in Brazil on vacation, and I could move in, and he would come back on the first to collect the rent and bring me the contract to sign.”

“You’ve been scammed.”

“But I paid him ten thousand dollars!”

“Which is another thing that should have tipped you off. You couldn’t rent a closet on Park Avenue for twenty-five hundred a month. Didn’t you find it strange that you were getting a place like this for next to nothing?”

“I thought I was getting a deal.”

I shook my head. “You got a deal alright. A raw deal.”

She covered her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

 

★★★★

 

We hope you enjoyed this extended preview!

 

ego1

 

excerpt-teaser


 

author-photoVi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn’t change for the world. She is an attorney and a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, & USA Today Best Selling author. Over the last three years, eleven of her titles have appeared on the USA Today Bestseller lists and four on the New York Times Bestseller lists.

In 2013, she released her first romance novel and never looked back. To date, she has thirteen novels released, with PLAYBOY PILOT also releasing in 2016. Her novels have appeared on #1 on Amazon and are currently being translated into German, Polish, Portuguese, Korean, Hebrew, French and Italian.

Website | Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Safe Bet by Monica Murphy…Excerpt Reveal

 

Excerpt:

“Drew!” Fable
calls, waving him over. “Come meet Sydney.”
He starts to head
over there and when he sends me a look over his shoulder, I reluctantly follow
him. I really don’t need to be involved in this scenario, but I just can’t tell
him that, can I? It would be rude. And I’m never rude to Drew and Fable.
Ever.
“Sydney, this is
my husband, Drew. Drew, this is Sydney Walker. She’s going to be our new
nanny,” Fable says, sounding pleased. She looks over at her husband with a
little wince. “I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and hired her.”
“Of course I don’t
mind. I trust your judgment.” Drew turns to greet Sydney. “Good to meet you,”
he says as he gives Sydney a firm handshake. She’s staring up at him, her lips
slightly parted, her eyes wide. Full on awestruck, which is typical. He’s a
superstar. That’s how most people look at Drew when they first meet him.
“Hi,” she squeaks,
her cheeks going pink as she releases Drew’s hand. Her gaze slips to mine, and
then flitters away. But that one quick glance was like a sucker punch to my
gut.
The nanny is
beautiful.
I take a deep
breath, shoving my hands in my jeans’ pockets so I won’t do something
stupid—like try to grab her. She has pretty blue eyes and a full mouth that’s
made for kissing. Her curves are even lusher than I first realized. She has
full hips and a tiny waist and shapely legs. But I can’t worry about pretty
nannies right now. I have to concentrate on work.
It still blows my
mind that I might play for the NFL. That football is my job. I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch.
“Sydney, this is
Wade Knox. He’s an old family friend,” Fable says, knocking me from my
thoughts. I blink and look down to find Sydney smiling up at me, interest
clearly showing in her gaze. Hmm. “Wade, this is Sydney.”
“Hey Sydney.” I
shake her hand, electricity pulsing between us the moment our palms touch. She
jerks her hand away from mine as if I burned her. Guess she felt it too.
Interesting.
“Nice to meet
you,” she murmurs as she takes a step back. Like she needs the distance.
Even more interesting.
We make small talk
for a few minutes before Fable takes Sydney back to the house, and the moment
the door shuts behind them, Drew’s talking.
“The nanny’s
cute,” he observes, his voice way too nonchalant.
“Uh huh.”
“She looked at you
like she thought you were cute, too.”
I roll my eyes. He
never says stuff like this, so what’s his deal? “Cute? What are you doing?
Trying to play matchmaker?” I send him a pointed look. “Give me a break. I
don’t need the distraction.”

Preorder Today!

Blurb:

Sydney Walker’s new job is perfect. As the live-in nanny to the most famous quarterback in the NFL and his beautiful wife, she couldn’t have it any better. Their kids are adorable. Her bosses are more than generous. Plus, there are hot football players at the house all the time. Life can’t get much better than this.

 

Until her life turns into an absolute nightmare. The media is abuzz with rumors that she and her boss Drew Callahan are having a torrid affair. Everyone knows the truth—except the public. So Drew’s wife Fable comes up with the perfect idea.

 

She creates a fake relationship between Sydney and one of the rookie players on Drew’s team. Wade Knox is forever indebted to Drew and Fable and readily agrees to the set up. Pretending to be in a romantic relationship with the hot nanny for a week—how hard can it be?

 

Crazy how it only takes one week for two people to fall head over heels in love…
(This mash-up new adult romance features characters from both the One Week Girlfriend series and The Rules series.)

Break Point by Rachel Blaufeld…Excerpt Reveal

 

Excerpt

I remained still, my arms wrapped around my knees, my jean shorts digging into the space where thigh met crotch as my red hair was whipped around my face by a passing breeze. I breathed in and out, counting backward from a hundred. Taking deep breaths and closing my eyes, I allowed positive energy to burn through me and eat away at the bad.

Giggles wafted from the benches below, near the fountain, and then drifted off as the other girls made their way out of the sports complex. Reality returned. It was present day, not back then when I was helpless.

Today I was in control.

Only after the others left—not that it mattered, I was invisible to them—did the coach nod in my direction and motion for me to come down.

That simple gesture felt like something more. Like I meant more to him than was appropriate for a coach and his student. His head tilted to the side for a beat too long, his gaze rested on me more thoughtfully than it had on the others, and he squinted at me in a way I liked very, very much.

“Think you can keep up with them?” He jerked his head back toward the gymnasium, a smirk twisting his mouth.

I zoned in on his lips and became a sailboat slicing through the sea, jumping into the blue ocean that was his eyes as I made my way down the stairs.

That’s your coach, Juliette. Let it be.

“I play singles, so I’m pretty sure I’ll hold my own with or without them,” I said from the bottom step, allowing my natural confidence to make an appearance. Hello, ego, my good friend.

“Yeah, I know. I meant, think you can hold your own with that crowd? In general?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to it,” I lied. I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with them. Not today. Not tomorrow.

Though, now that I was in the presence of Coach King—up close and personal, outside, shouting, coaching, wearing shorts—I was more excited than before. His forearms fascinated me all over again. They rippled with strength when he moved, making me wonder what they would look like braced over me.

I pulled my hair back into a messy knot at my nape, allowing the breeze to hit my heated neck. “Thanks for asking me to come and watch.”

 

It’s reckless and hot until one of them taps out.

Break Point by Rachel Blaufeld releases January 9th!!!

Pre-order EXCLUSIVELY on iBooks:  http://apple.co/2feY5UQ

Add to your TBR:http://bit.ly/2fkvKPD

Blurb

Juliette Smith, star tennis player, is starting over at a new university. Traumatized by hazing at her last school, all she wants is to attend classes, win tennis matches, and be left the hell alone.

She should have known her coach, Drew King, would be a problem from the moment he flexed his sexy-as-hell forearms.

What happens when you mix a pissed-off woman with a bunch of snooty teammates and a hot coach?

A heated match, complete with team politics and a forbidden game of singles with the coach.

It’s reckless and hot until one of them taps out.

Unable to admit she may be better off as a double, Jules is convinced she needs to play the game of life alone. Then life throws her a lob and she runs smack into her past.

Coach King is back, and he wants to take control of the game. But she’s not certain she wants his advice when it comes to the life she’s built.

The power struggle is on, but this time off the court.

The Boys of Verite make an appearance in Break Point.

Grab this stand alone sports romance HERE!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1SGDN61

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1O9CKGj

iBooks: http://apple.co/2geWr9R  (CURRENTLY FREE)

Nook: http://bit.ly/1WF1CNs

Kobo: http://bit.ly/23ZQ49P

Meet Rachel

 

Rachel Blaufeld is a bestselling author of Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Coming-of-Age Romance, and Sports Romance. A recent poll of her readers described her as insightful, generous, articulate, and spunky. Originally a social worker, Rachel creates broken yet redeeming characters. She’s been known to turn up the angst like cranking up the heat in the dead of winter.

A devout coffee drinker and doughnut eater, Rachel spends way too many hours in local coffee shops, downing the aforementioned goodies while she plots her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end as lusciously as her treats.

When she isn’t writing, she can be found courtside, tweeting about hoops as her son plays, or walking around the house wearing earplugs while her other son, the drummer, bangs away.

To connect with Rachel, she’s most active in her private reading group, The Electric Readers, where she shares insider information and intimate conversation with her readers.

The Electric Readers

As well as:

WebsiteTwitterFacebookNewsletter

The Rule Maker by Jennifer Blackwood….Excerpt Reveal

All her rules are about to change…

 

THE RULE MAKER
The Rule Breakers #2
Jennifer Blackwood
Releasing January 16th, 2017
Entangled Embrace

 

Ten
Steps to Surviving a New Job:

1. Don’t sleep with the client. It’ll get you fired. (Sounds easy enough.)
2. Don’t blink when new client turns out to be former one-night stand.

3. Don’t call same client a jerk for never texting you back.

4. Don’t believe client when he says he really, really wanted to call.

5. Remember, the client is always right—so you can’t junk punch him when he
demands new design after new design.

6. Ignore accelerated heartbeat every time sexy client walks into room.

7. Definitely ignore client’s large hands. They just mean he wears big gloves.

8. Don’t let client’s charm wear you down. Be strong.

9. Whatever you do, don’t fall for the client. You’ll lose more than your
job—maybe even your heart.

10. If all else fails, see rule number one again.

 
~ Coming January 16th ~

 
 
He scrubbed
his palms over his face and rested his elbows on his knees. “This was not how I
saw this night going.”
“Big
Valentine’s Day plans?”
He lowered his
hands and looked at me like I’d just claimed I single-handedly caused the storm
raging outside. “I didn’t even know that was today. Does this mean we’re each
other’s valentines by default?”
I scoffed.
“Not a chance.”
He chuckled.
“Always so blunt. I like that about you.” He quickly cleared his throat as if
he hadn’t meant to say that. “Well, non-valentine, looks like we’re going to be
stuck here a while. Have anything in mind?” he said.
I decided
against packing on another insult. He was being nice, and this sure as heck
beat staring at the wall the rest of the night. “My form of entertainment is at
6 percent battery, so I’m open to suggestions.”
“Mine is fully
charged. Want to watch something?”
“Sure.” What
else did I have to do? Before I knew it, I was sitting on the bed next to him, leaning
against the ornately carved headboard. Snow gusting against the window was the
only sound in the room as he searched for a show for us to watch.
So quiet.
Way too quiet.
I fidgeted
with my necklace, moving the small diamond back and forth on the chain. The
last time I was in bed with Ryder… I didn’t even want to finish that thought,
because it’d do nothing but make this situation worse. I chanced a peek in his
direction.

He chewed the
inside of his cheek, swiping through our options. “This is awkward, huh?” he
said.
“We’ve
achieved Urkel status.”
He chuckled
and scrolled through the show queue. “Would you rather watch Law
and Order: SVU
or Criminal
Minds?”
“That is quite
possibly the worst Would You Rather question ever asked.”
His eyes cut
to mine. “I didn’t know I was playing a game.”
“You’ve never
played it?”
He shook his
head.
Lainey and I
played this game all the time in college, and when we’d take road trips
together. She always came up with the grossest ones. “It’s simple. All you have
to do is ask the person which horrible thing they’d rather do. The harder the
question, the better. Like would you rather lay in a pit of snakes, or eat
questionably dead roadkill?” I pointed to his phone. “Oh, John
Tucker Must Die.
I like that one.
“Negative,
ghost rider.” He scrolled past my suggestion. “And what the hell does questionably
dead mean? Is it still twitching, or are we talking
suspicious cause of death?”
I shrugged.
“The interpretation’s up to you.”
“You’re
absolutely no help.” He swiped his thumb across his beard and contemplated. “I
guess I’d go with the snakes.”
“Okay, now
it’s your turn,” I said.
“Do I really
have to play? I thought we were picking a show.”
I shot him a
look.
“Fine. Would
you rather have me or Chewbacca as your valentine?”
“Too easy. The
spider.”
He put his
hand to his heart. “You wound me.”
“Stop being
such a baby.” I swatted at his chest and immediately pulled my hand back. Nope.
Would not go there. “Okay, would you rather not be able to see or talk for a
month?”
He answered
instantly. “See.”
“Right. You’d
probably go nuts if you couldn’t open that big mouth of yours.”
His lips
twitched. “You’re one to talk.”
“Excuse me?”
Okay, I did have a tough time keeping my thoughts on lockdown outside the
office, but that was my own cross to bear.
“Don’t even
try to play it off like you’re innocent.”
I’d dated a
lot of losers in the past, most who hadn’t even bothered to get to know me, but
even after only hanging out a few times, Ryder had me pegged. He was
perceptive. I saw the look in his eyes whenever I dealt with Jason. His attention
focused solely on me was unnerving. “Jerk,” I sputtered.
“Now I know
you’re holding back. You can do way better than that.” He scrolled through his
phone again. “How about Die Hard?”
“Are all your
show selections about death? I’m starting to worry I made a mistake coming over
here.” My lips pulled into a smile and I quickly extinguished it. God, I wanted
to hate him.
“Fine.” He
continued looking at the Netflix queue. “Would you rather eat sushi from a taco
stand, or lick an airplane armrest?”
“Good one.
Sushi.” I pointed to his screen. “How about 10 Things I
Hate About You?”
He shook his
head and chuckled. “Are all of your suggestions
going to not-so-subtly tell me you hate me?”
I smiled
sweetly. “Maybe.”
“Just think,
most people would find this to be a romantic escape. Two people, stuck in the
mountains on Valentine’s Day,” he said.
“We’re
Hallmark movie material, all right,” I deadpanned.
“Okay, fine.
How about The Walking Dead?”
“Your show
picking powers have been officially revoked.” I grabbed the phone from his
hand.
“Hey!” He
grabbed for the phone, and I held it out of reach. “You’re going to regret
that.” Within seconds he was on top of me, playfully pinning me to the bed, his
strong hands circling my wrists. Air evaporated from my lungs as our gazes
connected.
I was
immediately transported back to that night.
Tell
me what you want, Zoey. Tell me what you need from me.
I swallowed
hard. That was months ago, and those words still haunted me from time to time.
Because he did exactly that, gave me what I wanted and needed. Repeatedly.

 

Jennifer
Bernard
 is
a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. She lives in Oregon
with her husband, son, and poorly behaved black lab puppy. When not chasing
after her toddler, you can find her binging on episodes of Gilmore Girls and
Supernatural, and locking herself in her office to write.
 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

One Careful Owner by Jane Harvey-Berrick….Excerpt reveal

 

 

 

AP new - buy the book.jpg

 

Releasing January 2nd, 2017

 

99¢ pre-order, a limited time promotion

 

 

 
goodreads-badge.png
AP new - synopsis.jpg

 

Take me, all of me, broken and in pieces, or say to hell with me.”

WARNING!
This book will break your heart!
From the best-selling romance author of THE EDUCATION OF SEBASTIAN comes a sexy, heart-breaking and heart-warming story about one man and his dog. (Standalone)

Alex is lost and alone, with only his dog, Stan for company. He doesn’t expect kindness from anyone anymore, but sometimes hope can be found in the most unlikely places. He has a second chance at happiness, but there’s a dark side to Alex, and a reason that more than one person has called him crazy.
Single mother Dawn is doing just fine. Except that her ex- is a pain in the ass, her sister isn’t speaking to her, and her love life is on the endangered list.
At least her job as a veterinarian is going well. Until a crazy-looking guy arrives at her office accompanied by an aging dog with toothache. Or maybe Alex Winters isn’t so crazy after all, just … different.
Dawn realizes that she’s treated him the same way that all the gossips in town have treated her—people can be very cruel.

Contains scenes of an adult nature.

This is a standalone novel with no cliff-hanger.

 

Tanner’s hooves kicked up small spirals of dirt as he ambled through the forest, picking his own path. It was peaceful and a deep sense of calm spread through me. It had been too long since I’d come out for an early morning ride. I rarely had the chance anymore—life always seemed to get so busy.
Even though it wasn’t more than half-an-hour after sunrise, humidity was beginning to climb. I felt sweat trickle down my back and armpits, but I didn’t care. It was too beautiful out here to worry about anything.
The lake’s surface was quiet, stretching glassily toward the horizon, and I watched the tiny ripples reach the muddy bank as lazy clouds drifted across the sky.
As I rode into the small clearing, the quality of the light changed from the deep green of the forest to the soft glow of the rising sun.
I breathed deeply, enjoying the muted sounds and sense of being utterly alone. It was a rare moment to be carefree.
But as Tanner neared the lake, I spotted a bundle of old rags on the ground. God, I hated that! How could people toss their trash somewhere so beautiful? Sadly, I was used to seeing discarded bottles, cans and sandwich wrappers on the trails.
I was going to pick them up and dump them in the garbage at home, so I dismounted and poked my riding crop through them. But they weren’t rags exactly—instead, I found a tattered pair of jeans, a faded t-shirt and a washed-out plaid shirt.
That was odd. Who would have left them here? Someone camping maybe? I sighed wearily and picked up the clothes. I hated people littering in this beautiful forest.
Suddenly, Tanner shifted next to me and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I had the unpleasant sensation of being watched, and when I looked up, my breath stuttered in my throat.
A man was standing in the lake, waist-deep in the water, and he was glaring at me. Instinctively, I tightened my grip on Tanner’s reins.
“Oh, crap! You startled me!”
He didn’t reply, and his icy stare made me nervous.
He was a big man, tall and strong, with broad shoulders and clearly defined muscles. His unkempt beard was thick, and long tangled hair matted against his skull—he looked like one of the fabled Mountain Men.
He made no attempt to speak and his eyes narrowed as anger rolled from him in heavy waves.
I swallowed nervously and took a step back, but then my heel caught in a pile of leaves, and I dropped the clothes I’d been carrying.
He glared, his lips peeled back so he was baring his teeth.
It took everything in me to keep calm while I mounted. Tanner’s large presence was a huge comfort. I borrowed him from my employer and he was usually a skittish horse, but right now he stood happily chomping on grass and ignoring the stand-off.
“I’m going now,” I said weakly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Yes, I’m riding away.”
The continued silence was unnerving, but at least he hadn’t come any closer. I began to wonder if he understood English.
Close up, he seemed younger than I’d first thought. His hair was dark blonde, his beard a light brown tinged with red. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were from this distance. Maybe he was Eastern European?
Finally, the man spoke.
“M-m-mine.”
I blinked, surprised.
“What?”
He screwed his eyes shut, took a slow breath and tried again.
“M-m-mine!”
I stared back, not having a clue what he was talking about, then my eyes dropped to the pile of clothes on the ground.
“Oh, these are yours?”
He scowled at me, folding his arms across his chest. His body language was screaming at me to leave, but otherwise he was silent, menacing, and that scared me more.
My eyes followed the movement of his arms as he clamped them across his body, the biceps bulging, an unspoken warning that this man was bigger and stronger than me, and that I was alone in the forest, miles from help.
At least he wasn’t coming closer.
Then my eyes dipped to the waterline rippling at his waist.
“Oh!”
My eyes widened with the realization that he was completely naked. The water was clear enough that I’d seen everything. And I mean everything. As I glanced up, shocked, he met my gaze, raising an eyebrow suggestively, the implication that I’d been checking him out. I shot him a filthy look, jerking the reins to get Tanner moving.
“You’re trespassing on private property,” I snapped over my shoulder, just to show I wasn’t really completely terrified. “You should leave.”
His lips twisted in a sneer and he took half a pace toward me, his demeanor threatening.
Sensing his mounting fury, I rode away. I’d get the hell out of here and let Dan know that a crazy guy was camping illegally. I urged Tanner to go faster, only looking back once to make sure that the man wasn’t following. But he was still standing in the lake, watching me.

My early morning ride left me completely shaken, and I hated feeling so vulnerable. So I was in a foul mood by the time I got to work at Petz Pets, and Ashley’s shrill voice was like a jack hammer in my head.
I tried to ignore her endless description of a new pair of shoes that were to die for apparently, while I quietly phoned my friend Dan, who also happened to be Girard’s police officer, telling him about the crazy guy at the lake. Then I had to listen to Ashley for half an hour, catching me up on all the gossip that I’d ‘missed’ over the weekend. Mostly it consisted of who’d slept with whom, who was having an affair, and how many Cosmopolitans she’d drunk.
I was trying not to listen, but it was impossible to ignore her piercing tone.
“Oh, that’s so sad!” she said suddenly, her voice falling for a moment.
“What is?”
“Mrs. Humphries emailed to ask if we’ve seen Missy.”
Missy—a two year-old black-and-white ball of fur with wicked long claws, as I knew from painful experience. She was also pregnant the last time I’d seen her and the kittens were due any day. Come to think of it, I’d expected to hear from Mrs. Humphries before now.
“When did she last see her?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“She’s probably making a safe place to have her kittens. Tell Mrs. Humphries to check all her neighbors’ outbuildings and any other places that she thinks Missy might go to. She won’t have gone far.”
Ashley frowned.
“Mrs. Humphries is out by the State Game Lands. She doesn’t have many neighbors.”
I shivered, recalling the scary homeless man I’d encountered. I wondered if Dan would have a chance to check into it today.
Ashley typed something, muttering under her breath and chewing on the inside of her mouth.
“Oh, you’re going to love this,” she cackled as she worked her way through the overnight messages and today’s calendar. “A new client has emailed to make an appointment. That’s weird—people usually phone. Jeez, he’s sent me his dog’s entire life story! Whatever, but get this—he only wants a male veterinarian.”
I glanced up, frowning. “Seriously?”
“Yep. I had to read his message twice to check I wasn’t seeing things. And guess what? His address is Tanglewood.  He must be the one who bought Old Joe’s cabin—you know, the place Bob Delaney was going to buy and develop. What do you want me to do?”
I was surprised. I didn’t know that Bob had wanted to buy the place, but it made sense since he owned the adjoining property along the lake. Sort of. Joe had never minded me riding over his land, but I knew for a fact that Bob wouldn’t like it. Mostly because he hated me. And as for Stella’s opinion of me … I didn’t want to think about that.
I’d ridden past Old Joe’s cabin many times. It was a dreary, depressing place, dank and dark and falling apart, deep in the woods. The kind of place you could imagine in a horror movie, except for its location by the lake, which was beautiful.
I gazed at Ashley, constantly amazed by the random information she had rattling around in her head. The FBI needed her on their team.
I redirected my thoughts back to the question. “Does Gary have any slots this afternoon?”
Gary was our chief veterinarian and also owned the business. He was good with prickly customers.
“Yes, three o’clock.”
“Problem solved.”
Ashley gave me an overly-dramatic look of astonishment.
“It doesn’t bother you that the new client is a sexist asshole?”
Yes, the request was irritating, but Ashley was something of a drama queen and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Not my concern,” I answered, giving a firm look that bounced right off her.
“I’d be pissed as all hell because he obviously doesn’t think women can be vets,” she said, not willing to let it drop.
I tuned her out after that, instead prepping the examination room and reading through my list of patients for the day.
Then our first customer arrived, a West Highland Terrier with eczema, and I didn’t think about the new client again until after lunch when Gary got an emergency callout to a valuable stud animal with a suspected fractured tibia.
Ashley gave me a wide smile as Gary’s Jeep disappeared in a cloud of dust and gravel.
“So … since Gary has been called away … are you going to see this new client? The sexist asshole?”
I sighed, but tried not to look too irritated as I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after 2.45PM so she might be able to catch the new client before he left his house.
“Call him and explain what’s happened. If he wants to see me, that’s fine, otherwise reschedule an appointment with Gary.”
She picked up her phone and started to place the call, but stopped suddenly.
“Too late,” she said, jerking her thumb at a battered pickup truck that had pulled into the parking lot.
I turned to look, but for a minute, there was no movement and I began to wonder if the new arrival would ever leave his truck. Finally, I saw the driver’s door swing open and a man jumped out. For some reason, I’d expected an older guy to be the sexist new client, but judging from the way he moved, I was wrong.
In fact, I could see that he was tall and muscular and … then I recognized him.
It was the man from the lake. The naked man who’d scared the crap out of me. I’d been thoroughly rattled seeing him this morning. Being alone with him had made me realize again how vulnerable I was riding by myself and I’d decided to rethink my regular route.
But now I was facing him for a second time. He still reminded me of a Mountain Man, and he appeared to be wearing the clothes that I’d thought were rags. His long, shaggy brown hair and thick beard hid most of his face. A shudder of apprehension ran through me.
He seemed just as ill at ease as he had been by the lake, his eyes darting around restlessly, but then he walked around to the passenger door and I lost sight of him.
When he reappeared, he was carrying a large dog, one that easily weighed 80 or 90 pounds. He must have been strong because he carried the weight easily. I recalled the thick slabs of muscle that sculpted his chest and arms when I’d seen him earlier. Yes, there was no doubt that he was strong, but as he held his pet, his hands were gentle.
I watched his chin bob, and I realized that he was talking to his dog.
Carefully, he set the animal on the ground and fixed a leash around its neck.
The dog immediately sat down and refused to budge. His coat was thick and looked glossy and healthy, his muzzle starting to gray. I guessed he was part retriever, part mastiff—large and solid. And heavy.
Ashley giggled as the man tugged on the leash, but the dog still wouldn’t move. The man stood still, looking at his pet, his hands on his hips, then he shook his head in defeat. Bending down, he scooped up the dog again and shouldered his way through the door into the office.
Now he was closer, I could study him in more detail.
His hair was a tangle of light brown with sun-blond lights, still uncombed, an off-putting mess of wild, crazy curls. His clothes were even worse now I could see him wearing them, unkempt and torn as if he’d given up, but they were clean. And when he stopped in front of Ashley, I caught the faint scent of soap and laundry detergent—no cologne. This man was a paradox.
Ashley smiled tightly from her position behind the reception desk.
“Mr. Winters and Stan, is that right?”
He nodded but didn’t speak, still holding his dog in his arms. His face was grim, as if he’d never smiled, never thought of smiling.
So this was the man who’d bought Old Joe’s place? I immediately felt guilty that I’d assumed he was trespassing and camping illegally. I didn’t know that somebody had already moved into the property. Technically, I’d been the interloper this morning. I felt like such a judgmental bitch. But he’d really scared me, and I hadn’t been thinking clearly.
“I’m so sorry,” Ashley said with fake sweetness, “but Dr. Petz, our male veterinarian, had to go out on an emergency visit. Dr. Andrews over there is available.”
He turned to stare at me and his body stiffened. I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the floor again. I thought for sure that he’d turn and walk out, but then he glanced at his dog and I saw the expression soften in his curious golden-brown eyes as he peered up at me and nodded slowly.
“Great!” said Ashley, her gaze glancing across to me. “I’ve got basic information from your email, but if you could just fill out this form and…”
“Maybe you’d like to bring Stan into the examination room, Mr. Winters,” I interrupted quickly. “He looks rather heavy.”
The man blinked twice, but carried the dog inside without commenting or even looking at Ashley.
“Rude!” Ashley said, not quietly enough, and although I agreed, I shot her a look and took the form from her.
She leaned toward me, her eyes wide as her voice dropped to an urgent whisper.
“I’ll keep my ears open, Dawn. He looks kind of weird. You know, serial killer weird.”
I pressed my lips together and followed my new client.
The dog was sitting on the examination table, drooling heavily and panting. I could tell he was an older animal from the salt-and-pepper muzzle, and his breath was pretty bad. That usually indicated either a gastrointestinal problem or dental issues.
The man was standing in the furthest corner of the room with his hands in his pockets, his head hanging down, peering at me warily through the thick curtain of uncombed hair.
“So this is Stan,” I said, stroking the dog’s head. “A reluctant patient?”
His tail thumped twice.
“I guess you don’t like going to the vet, huh, boy?” I looked up again at his silent owner. “Don’t worry about it. We get a lot of animals like that on their first time here. He’ll get used to us and we’ll take good care of him.”
He stared back at me, his face unreadable.
“And, um, I really must apologize for this morning,” I said, still stroking Stan’s head. “Old Joe didn’t mind me riding across his land. When I saw you, I didn’t know that … well, I made assumptions. It won’t happen again.”
His head tilted to one side, but he didn’t reply, and my cheeks flushed with annoyance and confusion.
“So, how can I help you today?” I asked briskly.
Stan stared at me docilely then yawned widely.
“Phew! That’s some serious halitosis he’s got there. What do you feed him?”
Mr. Winters blinked rapidly, crossed his arms across his chest the way he had this morning, then took several deep breaths. His eyes screwed shut and his whole face contorted. I was afraid he was having a seizure, but then his eyes opened wide and he coughed out a single word.

Sneak Peek….The Devil’s Daughter by Katee Robert

robert_the-devils-daughtersneakpeek

THE DEVIL’S DAUGHTER

 by Katee Robert

FBI agent, Eden Collins is going home… to catch a killer.  Fans of Audey Harte’s It Takes One and Kendra Elliott’s Bone Secrets series, will devour The Devil’s Daughter, the fast-paced and suspenseful first book, in the Hidden Sins series by NYT and USA Today Bestselling Author Katee Robert.

Title: The Devil’s Daughter

Author: Katee Robert

Series: Hidden Sins #1

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Release Date: January 24, 2017

Publisher: Montlake Romance

Print Length:  316 pages

Format: Digital and Paperback

ISBN: 1503940918

robert_thedevilsdaughter_23176-cv-ft

Synopsis:

Growing up in a small town isn’t easy, especially when you’re the daughter of a local cult leader. Ten years ago, Eden Collins left Clear Springs, Montana, and never once looked back. But when the bodies of murdered young women surface, their corpses violated and marked with tattoos worn by her mother’s followers, Eden, now an FBI agent, can’t turn a blind eye. To catch the killer, she’s going to have to return to the fold.

Sheriff Zach Owens isn’t comfortable putting Eden in danger, even if she is an elite agent. And he certainly wasn’t expecting to be so attracted to her. As calm and cool as she appears, he knows this can’t be a happy homecoming. Zach wants to protect her—from her mother, the cult, and the evil that lurks behind its locked gates. But Eden is his only key to the tight-lipped group, and she may just be closer to the killer than either one of them suspects…

excerpt

“Martha.”

Her mother’s eyes lit up and she half pushed to her feet. “Eden. I admit, when Abram told me you were back in town, I could hardly believe it.”

“I’m not back.”

Her smile dimmed, and Eden called herself an idiot ten times over for wanting to do something to bring it back. Manipulation, that’s all it is. Martha motioned to the cups in front of her. “I got your favorite.”

There was nothing else to do but take the empty seat and get this over with. She took a sip—sweet with lots of cream—and didn’t bother to tell Martha she’d switched over to drinking her coffee black a few years back. It would serve no purpose, and her entire goal was to get out of here with the least conversation possible.

“It’s been a long time.”

She shifted, not sure how to take the searching look her mother was giving her, as if she was trying to memorize Eden’s features—or, possibly, was comparing them to the ones she’d had ten years ago. What was there to say? I hated the life you created and forced me into, so I left. You won’t change, and neither will I. This will never be what you want it to be. She couldn’t force the words past her closed throat, so she took another drink of coffee.

Martha hesitated, and then mirrored the motion. “A lot is different from when you were last home.”

Not nearly enough, she’d wager. But if her mother was offering information, she’d be a fool not to get everything she could from Martha. “Oh?”

“Our community has grown. It’s flourishing.” She gave a small self-deprecating smile. “But, then, you didn’t come back to talk about Elysia. How have you been?”

Over the years, she received phone calls from Abram, demanding information at odd times in that quiet terrifying way of his. He never asked more than a few questions, and she never offered more than strictly necessary for those forced check-ins—whatever it took to get him off her back. She didn’t want to now, either. “I’m still working for the government.” Safe enough to admit, since her mother already knew about it.

Sure enough, Martha’s lips thinned. “The FBI.”

“Using the skills I learned from you.” She knew better, but she couldn’t help the dig.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Of course she didn’t. Because Elysia most certainly wasn’t a cult. Right. She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. “You might like to pretend otherwise, but I know for a fact that Elysia has been on the FBI watch lists for years, so you’re not fooling everyone.”

“Eden Magdalene, you might be a woman grown, but that doesn’t mean you can take that tone of voice with me.”

Or speak too many truths, apparently. Eden stared at her coffee cup, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t suppose you know anything about a photograph showing up in my email yesterday?” It had all the hallmarks of one taken for an official police investigation, but that didn’t explain how it had found her. She’d had a friend in the tech department try to trace it, but it had been routed through several IP addresses before disappearing into the Internet-ether. Call her paranoid, but her first instinct was that her mother had something to do with it. How was the question, though.

Martha cocked her head to the side, frowning. “I’m not sure what you’re speaking of.”

Of course she wasn’t, though Eden was at a loss to decide if that was truth or because she didn’t want to admit to somehow being the leak in a murder investigation. She sighed. “What am I doing here, Martha? You know very well we couldn’t sit in the same room without going for each other’s throats when I was eighteen, and it would seem nothing’s changed since then.”

“I want what I’ve always wanted, baby. I want you to come home.”

There’s no home for me to come to, not now. Not ever. No matter how much I wish that wasn’t true. She cleared her throat. “I—” Think. Think fast. A hard no would just have Martha digging in her heels, and she wasn’t sure yet if Zach would change his mind. “I’ll think about it.” The lie rolled off her tongue with the ease of long practice. She wasn’t going back. She’d set herself on fire before she willingly walked through the gates of Elysia and put herself under her mother’s control again. The only reason she was here was to make sure no other girls turned up dead.

“It would mean so much.” Martha’s smile brightened, and a traitorous part of Eden brightened in response. It was how it always was with her mother. She rarely had to take the stern role when she could manipulate much more effectively with a soft word and a particular look. And when that wouldn’t work? Well, she wasn’t above getting her hands dirty, either.

Did you do it? Did you see that girl killed?

Eden couldn’t ask. The sheriff had already refused her help, and she’d have to be a special kind of stupid to go investigating on her own. There was nothing she could do without the power of the law on her side. If she tried…

Well, if she tried, there were plenty of unmarked graves in Elysia. What was one more?

 kr_tdd

 katee-robert-03-original

Get More information at: Goodreads  | Amazon | Barnes & Noble 

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. She found romance novels at age twelve and it changed her life. When not writing sexy contemporary and speculative fiction romance novels, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her wee ones, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.  Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter| GoodReads | Instagram |

Riddick by Kathy Coopmans…..Excerpt Reveal

riddick_excerpt

Excerpt

You realize we’ve never been on a date?”  He smirks at me, and my stomach flutters. Riddick is right, we haven’t. We couldn’t go out in public when we were younger since we were forbidden. And now we can; we can do anything we want. Go anywhere. Simply just be. It’s as if time has frozen for one split second. A conversation similar to this one pops into my mind. He said the same thing to me once. How he wished we could go out, be seen. Tell the entire town that in spite of the rumors of his father killing my parents, we were two teenagers in love; and if we could overcome it, then they as adults should as well. We were never given that chance.

“Oh. Does this mean you’re asking me out? I mean, I’ve already proven I’ll give you whatever you want, so dating is irrelevant at this point, don’t you think?” He groans, lifts me up and over him. His hardness is pressing into my stomach. I lay my hands on his chest, my eyes fluttering to render my innocence.

“Temptation got you fucked last night. Don’t tempt me, my naughty little angel. I’ll fuck you until the only choice you have to get out of this bed is to crawl. So, yes, I’m asking you out. Just me and you.”

“Okay. Where will we be going?” I agree. My insides are dancing and jiggling about as I watch him reach up and stretch his arms above his head before bringing them down to grab my ass. I sigh. I fizzle, and I may internally blow up with the detonator button being my clit.

“You’ll see,” he utters. Voice stating it’s a secret. Whatever. I’ll go wherever he wants me to go as long as we’re together.

“Tell me about these?” I coax those words out with ease as I outline the spider web tattoo around one of his nipples. He laughs. I scowl.

“I’m serious. Do any of them have a special meaning?” I ask seriously this time. “I bet I could get off just by standing in the shower watching you wash these.” I trot on seductively.

“Same goes for me with watching you arch your back, your mouth-watering tits with those pink nipples begging me to suck them as you wash your hair.” He lifts his hand, tugs my hair out of the confines of the band, and pulls so that my neck is exposed.

Passionate couple having hot sex in bedroom

From USA Today Best-Selling Author

comes the first book in a series of standalones in The Saint Series.

 riddick_coming_soon

Riddick by Kathy Coopmans releases on December 5th.

Add to your TBR: http://bit.ly/2fuoYsi

Sign up to be notified when Riddick is LIVE here:  http://bit.ly/2fXkJBy

riddick_frontcover_lores-1

Blurb

She told me Heaven would knock on my door one day.

That I would be swept away from the hell I lived in.

She was right about one thing and so wrong about the other.

Heaven came in the form of an angel just like she said.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

An angel.

And then.

My life became hell.

She disappeared. Vanished.

I left. Went to war. Killed. All for her.

Every face was the man who took her.

Every dream filled with her.

For twelve years I existed in hell. Breathed in the fires from down below.

Until her, the woman on the beach outside of my home.

Captivating.

Enchanting.

Mesmerizing.

It couldn’t be my Cora, my angel, my heaven on earth.

She was dead.

Wasn’t she?

riddick_fullcover_lores-1

About the Author:

Kathy Coopmans

 kathy-coopman-bio-1

Amazon Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.

After raising her children she decided to publish her first book and retiring from being a hairstylist.

She now writes full time.

She’s a huge sports fan with her favorite being Football and Tennis.

She’s a giver and will do anything she can to help another person succeed!

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | WebsiteGoodreads | Newsletter signup

Excerpt Reveal…After We Fall by Melanie Harlow

SBPR-AWF-ER.jpg

After We Fall by Melanie Harlow
Publication Date: November 28th, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance

MHAfterWeFallBookCover5x8_BW_300.jpg

Synopsis:

Jack Valentini isn’t my type.

Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave.

Jack might be gorgeous, but he’s also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a “rich city girl” like me, and he isn’t afraid to say so.

But I’ve got a PR job to do for his family’s farm, so he’s stuck with me for ten days, and I’m stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles.

His huge, hard muscles.

Pretty soon there’s a whole different kind of tension between us, the kind that has me misbehaving in barns, trees, and pickup trucks. I’ve never done anything so out of character—but it feels too good to stop.

And the more I learn about the grieving ex-Army sergeant, the better I understand him. Losing his wife three years ago left him broken and bitter and blaming himself. He doesn’t think he deserves a second chance at happiness.

But he’s wrong.

I don’t need to be his first love. If only he’d let me be his last.

“Second chances are not given to make things right, but are given to prove that we could be even better after we fall.” —Unknown

Excerpt:

“Wow,” she said, shutting the screen door behind her. “That was close. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” I crossed my arms, wishing I’d thought to grab a shirt. “Want to tell me what you were doing out there?”

Her cheeks colored. “Um, I was taking a run.”

“Up a tree?”

She laughed nervously. “No. Well, I didn’t start out in a tree. That happened later.”

I cocked my head, unable to resist giving her a hard time. Not so sure of yourself now, are you, Barbie? “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. See, I left the cottage I’m renting without using the bathroom by mistake,” she began, twisting her fingers together, “and I was planning on running a loop around the farm, but it’s bigger than I thought.”

“Ah. So you were looking for a bathroom in the woods?”

“Well, yes.” She swallowed. “Sort of. But then I heard a splash and saw you…” Her cheeks were practically purple now.

I played dumb. “Saw me what?”

“Saw you naked, OK?” she blurted, throwing her hands up. “I admit it—I saw you naked.”

I had no hangups about nudity, but I was damn serious about my privacy, and about people sneaking up on me. But her embarrassment was funny. The two times I’d seen her before, she’d been so polished and poised. It felt good to put her in her place a little. “So you climbed a tree for a better view, is that it?”

Bowing her head, she dragged the toe of one shoe across the wood planks of the porch floor. “Something like that.” Then she looked up at me. Took a breath. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I was—I mean, I got—I couldn’t—” She sighed, briefly closing her eyes. “I have no excuse. Will you accept my apology?”

She was prettier without makeup, I decided. And the way she wore her hair off her face emphasized the wideness of her eyes, the angle of her cheekbones, the arch of her brows. Her lips didn’t need all that glossy crap, either. They were a perfect rosy pink, and I wondered if they’d feel as soft as they looked.

Fuck. I hadn’t kissed anyone in three years.

Clearing my throat, I took a step back. “Yeah. It’s fine.” Now get out of here.

She didn’t move. “So you’re not going to fire me?”

“I never hired you.”

“I know. But I really want this job. I think I can help, Jack. I know I can.”

“Suit yourself. I want nothing to do with it.” My name on her lips was trouble. Needing some distance from her, I started walking toward the dock to get my shoes and socks, but she followed me. God, she was a pest. It reminded me of the way Steph used to tag along after the boys when we were kids, wanting to get in our games.

“Are you going to be like this the entire time I’m here?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“Moody and uncooperative?”

“Probably.”

“Why? Do you hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate anybody. I just don’t see why we should pay some city girl who’s never set foot on a farm to advise us.” We reached the dock, and I leaned down to get my stuff.

“I’m not even asking to be paid, so piss off!” she shouted, her voice carrying on the water.

I straightened. “Oh, you’re working for free?”

“Yes!”

“Then you’re an idiot. Or so rich you don’t need the money.”

“I’m not an idiot,” she said through clenched teeth.

“So you’re rich, then.” I don’t know why I was being such an asshole. But for some reason, I did not want to let her see another side of me, or see another side to her. “I should have guessed.”

She crossed her arms. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you look like you’ve led a charmed life. Like you’ve had everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you. Like you’ve never gotten your hands dirty.”

“So get them dirty.”

I almost fell off the dock. “What?”

“Get them dirty. Teach me about working this farm. I want to learn.”

Was she serious? The last thing I needed was to drag her ass around all day, explaining things. Or stare at her ass all day, imagining things. But one look at her defiant face and I shook my head. “Why do I feel like if I say no, you’ll just keep bothering me?”

She smiled and clasped her hands behind her back, rocking forward on her toes. “Because I will. I don’t like being told no.”

“Of course you don’t.” Jesus, she was trouble. A bad apple—smooth and shiny on the outside, spoiled rotten on the inside. But for no good reason, I found myself giving in. “Fine. Go change your clothes.”

Add to Goodreads

a07b63d7a33cfda64563b15403408216.png

Pre-Order Links:

iBooks: http://apple.co/2g8oepo
Nook: http://bit.ly/2gvsWRW
Sign up to get notified when it’s live on Amazon: http://bit.ly/1HY7Z75

About the Author:

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

Connect with Melanie:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMelanieHarlow/?fref=ts
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1NPkYKs
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1TkpDqF
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/MelanieHarlow2
Website: http://www.melanieharlow.com
Newsletter: http://www.melanieharlow.com/contact/

Hit The Spot by J. Daniels….Excerpt Reveal

dirtydeedsbanner

 

 

hit-the-spot-ebook-coverIs this love or just a game?

Tori Rivera thinks Jamie McCade is rude, arrogant, and worst of all . . . the sexiest man she’s ever laid eyes on. His reputation as a player is almost as legendary as his surfing skills. No matter how her body heats up when he’s around, she’s determined not to be another meaningless hookup.

Jamie McCade always gets what he wants. The sickest wave. The hottest women. And Tori, with her long legs and smart mouth, is definitely the hottest one. He knows Tori wants him-hell, most women do-but she won’t admit it. After months of chasing and one unforgettable kiss, it’s time for Jamie to raise the stakes.

Jamie promises that soon Tori won’t just want him in her bed, she’ll be begging for it-and he might be right. Somehow he’s found the spot in her heart that makes her open up like never before. But with all she knows about his past, can she really trust what’s happening between them? Is Jamie playing for keeps or just playing to win?

This book can be read as a stand-alone.

Book 1–Four Letter Word

 

 

 

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON AU | B&N | KOBO | KOBO UK | iBOOKS

iBOOKS UK | iBOOKS AU | Audio

 

 

 

EXCERPT

 

 

Tori froze a foot away, blinking at me. She didn’t speak. If she had a reason for coming in here, it looked like that reason just left her. She seemed lost.
“Legs,” I probed, when she kept with the staring and not speaking routine.
“Mm?”
“What are you doin’ in here, babe?”
I had no fucking idea what was going on, but unless Tori wanted to watch some chick grind all over me, she needed to get what she came for and step out.
She wet her lips. I watched her neck work with a swallow.
“You showed me your dick,” she stated.
I felt my mouth twitch. Fuck yeah. Breathing a laugh, I relaxed back onto the bench, arms spread behind me and hands gripping the black leather cushion. I tipped my head to the side. “See that impression is stickin’,” I said. “What’s that got to do with this?”
“You showed me your dick after I flashed you. That was your move.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. What the fuck was she getting at?
Tori smiled. Her sin-colored lips stretching slow. “This is mine,” she said, lifting her shoulders as if this shit she was declaring wasn’t a big deal, which it sure as fuck was.
This is hers…Oh, fuck me.
Fuck. Me.
Tori moved closer. Whatever smirk I was wearing pulled from my mouth. That pressure built again, in my chest and lower. I shifted on the bench.
“Legs,” I warned, my voice vibrating in my throat as I watched her walk toward me. “What’d I say about takin’ this shit places you can handle? Did you think this through?”
I was willing to bet she didn’t. If she had and knew how this could play out, with her bent over and me buried deep, she wouldn’t be back here.
“Shh.” Tori stopped in front of my knees. “If we talk, I won’t go through with this,” she admitted, sounding anxious. “And I doubt you’d be chattin’ up the girl who was supposed to be in here, so quit it. Just sit there. Shut up. And keep your hands to yourself.”
“You know what you’re doin’?” I asked, looking up at her. “’Cause in this room I’m allowed to touch, babe. Rules are out there.” I tipped my chin at the door, keeping her gaze. “Not in here. In here, I’m participatin’. You don’t like that deal, you better quit now and think of another move, ’cause the second you start takin’ shit off, Legs, I’m on you.”
“Then I guess I don’t need to worry,” Tori shot back, speaking with confidence and smiling again. The fuck did that mean? My brow tightened. “Say again?”
“I don’t need to worry ’cause I’m not taking anything off, meaning you won’t be on me. I’m just dancing.”
I stared at her for a beat. Then a laugh rumbled in my chest as I thought about how fucked she was.
“What?” she asked, tilting her head all cute. “This is a really good move.”
“Know it is. Not laughing ’cause of that.”
“Then why are you laughing?” She brought her hands to her hips and studied me, looking on the verge of an attitude. Her eyes narrowed. “If you think I need to take my clothes off to win this bet, then you are mistaken, Jamie McCade. I know how you feel about me in this uniform. This is gonna kill you.”
“Legs, hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong, babe. You gotta worry.”
“And why’s that?”
I dropped my arms and sat forward, elbows resting on my thighs. “You start dancin’ on me and I’m touching you,” I promised, watching her blink. “You start dancin’ anywhere in this room and I’m touching you. You don’t gotta strip, babe. I just threw that out there ’cause that’s where I thought this was headed. Telling me you’re makin’ a move and you’re makin’ it in a strip club, figured you’d be taking shit off, but honest to God, it don’t matter. Like I said before, rules are out there. Not in here. Only way I’m keeping my hands to myself is if I’m fuckin’ dead.”
“These are my rules,” Tori countered, bending down to get closer. “And unless you want me to holler out for my new friend with the gold tooth who looks like he eats narcissistic assholes for breakfast, I suggest you follow them, Jamie.”
I chuckled, knowing who she was talking about. Dude made sure I was clear on a few things before letting me back in here.
Something I wasn’t sharing with Legs. “And what are these rules, babe?” I asked.
She straightened and snapped, “I already told you. Sit there and shut up.” Tori put her hand on my shoulder and shoved, pushing me back until I was pressing against the bench again. Then keeping her grip there, she swung her knee up, braced it on the leather, and lowered herself onto my lap, lifting her other knee and boxing me in with it.
I pulled in breath through my nose and curled my hands into fists on the cushion. “And the touching?” I asked, voice strained as I stared at the shape of her tits.
They grew closer as she leaned forward, her hands shifting to hold on behind me, and my gaze snapped up to meet hers when her face got an inch away.
“Beg for it,” she whispered.
My eyes flickered wider. Hers brightened with impending victory.
No shit. Tori was gonna let me touch, but I had to call it. I had to let her win.
I had to fucking beg.
Jesus.
Why’d she have to be so good at this shit?
I steadied my gaze, telling her as my head tilted back, “Think I’ll just enjoy the ride.”

 

 

 

hts-teaser-5

 

 

logo-rectangle-1-2400-x-1025J.Daniels is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction series, the Alabama Summer series, and the Dirty Deeds series.

She would rather bake than cook, she listens to music entirely too loud, and loves writing stories her children will never read. Her husband and children are her greatest loves, with cupcakes coming in at a close second.

J grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family.

Sign up to receive her newsletter and get special offers and exclusive release info: http://authorjdaniels.com/newsletter/

Twitter | Instagram | Website | Facebook | Amazon Author Page |Goodreads | Reader’s Group

 

 

Someone Like you by Lauren Layne…Excerpt Reveal

A man who’s living a lie—until his dream woman takes away the pain.
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
Oxford #3
Lauren Layne
Releasing Dec 6th, 2016
Loveswept

 

Lauren Layne’s bestselling Oxford Series
continues with the poignant, heartwarming story of New York’s most eligible
bachelor, Lincoln Mathis, a man who’s living a lie—until his dream woman takes
away the pain.

 
Lincoln Mathis doesn’t hide his reputation as
Manhattan’s ultimate playboy. In fact, he cultivates it. But behind every
flirtatious smile, each provocative quip, there’s a secret that Lincoln’s
hiding from even his closest friends—a tragedy from his past that holds his
heart quietly captive. Lincoln knows what he wants: someone like Daisy
Sinclair, the sassy, off-limits bridesmaid he can’t take his eyes off at his
best friend’s wedding. He also knows that she’s everything he can never have.

 
After a devastating divorce, Daisy doesn’t need
anyone to warn her off the charming best man at her sister’s wedding. One look
at the breathtakingly hot Lincoln Mathis and she knows that he’s exactly the
type of man she should avoid. But when Daisy stumbles upon Lincoln’s secret,
she realizes there’s more to the charming playboy than meets the eye. And
suddenly Daisy and Lincoln find their lives helplessly entwined in a journey
that will either heal their damaged souls . . . or destroy them forever.



Advance praise for Someone Like You

 

“Fun and flirty, sassy and steamy, with a deep
emotional pull that will keep you turning the pages.”—Kelly Jamieson, author
of Top Shelf

“An unsung hero with a story that touched my heart. Emotional and
gripping. A top favorite of 2016 for me.”New York Times bestselling author Melanie Moreland

Daisy took another sip of her wine, watching as wedding guests took their places on the dance floor, warding off her boredom by trying to guess how long each couple had been together based on body language. 
 
She was a little amused to see that Emma and all of her Stiletto friends still seemed to be in the handsy honeymoon stage with their significant others, even though she knew they’d mostly been with their respective spouses for years.
 
Daisy felt a little twist of her heart. Once upon a time, she’d thought that’d be her and Gary. As much in love on someone else’s wedding day as they had been on their own. At least she’d been in love on that day. She wasn’t sure someone like Gary knew what love was. 
 
Still, she was glad to be here. Glad to be surrounded by all of this happiness, even if it was bittersweet. Daisy wished her father could be here to see this. He’d died of a heart attack a year ago, and though their dad had wreaked plenty of havoc on Emma and Cassidy’s relationship all those years ago, Daisy wished he could have walked Emma down the aisle and had a chance at the father-daughter dance.
 
The way it had worked out was rather lovely, though. Cole Sharpe, yet another Oxford writer, had walked Emma down the aisle, and a whole slew of the Oxford guys had twirled a laughing Emma around the dance floor in place of the father-daughter dance.
 
It struck Daisy that this was Emma’s family. Sure, the twins were close, but they were orphans now, and they’d never been particularly close to the rest of their extended family. So Emma had built a family here in New York, with a network of tight-knit friendships.
 
And though Daisy was happy for Emma she was also . . . jealous.
 
“I hate to break it to you, pet, but you’re pulling off the wallflower routine a little too convincingly over here.” 
 
Daisy turned, somehow unsurprised to see Lincoln Mathis standing beside her, blue eyes twinkling above the pink bow tie that he pulled off with impressive masculinity.
 
“You cheated,” she said, by way of greeting.
 
He smiled, slow and flirty, as he rested one shoulder against the wall she was leaning on, looking down at her. “How’s that?”
 
“You made them laugh and cry in your speech. I thought we agreed that you were just going to be the funny guy.”
 
He smiled wider. “What can I say, I’m alluring in a multitude of ways.”
 
“Speaking of,” she said, nodding her chin slightly to the sultry brunette making her way towards them, “I believe your previous dance partner is wanting an encore.”
 
He let out the subtlest of groans, so quiet she thought she might have imagined it.
 
“Dance with me,” he said suddenly to Daisy, straightening and looking down at her.
 
She jolted in surprise, then in panic. “I can’t.”
 
He smiled and held out a hand. “Come on now, Wallflower. I’m very good at dancing.” 
 
Wallflower. Daisy had never been a wallflower in her life. Although he had a point. She did seem to be lurking in the corner a bit. She silently scolded herself. This was everything she’d been coaching herself not to do. Not to let Gary win . . .
 
“I don’t doubt your dancing prowess,” she replied saucily, “but—”
 
She broke off. What could she possibly say? I don’t like being touched?
 
It’s not that she couldn’t be touched. She wasn’t that broken. She didn’t freak out. She’d endured Cassidy’s hug when she’d greeted him last night; she’d danced earlier with her uncle. But those men were family.
 
Lincoln Mathis was . . . not family.
 
Dance with him, she commanded herself. Don’t be that broken woman Gary tried to make you.
 
She didn’t move, and slowly Lincoln’s hand dropped to his side, just as the brunette reached them.
“I love this song,” the woman said, running a possessive hand up Lincoln’s arm. “Dance?”
 
Lincoln held Daisy’s gaze and she shrugged before blowing him a teasing good-bye kiss. “Bye bye.”
 
His eyes narrowed. “Actually,” Lincoln said, turning and giving the other woman a regretful smile, “I need to step out for a moment.”
 
The woman’s perfectly shaped brows folded into a frown. “Step out? For what?”
 
“I need to show Daisy something,” he said, bending and kissing the other woman’s cheek. “Next time, love.”
 
Before Daisy could register that she’d been commandeered as part of Lincoln Mathis’s escape, he’d plucked the champagne flute out of her hand, setting it aside before clasping her fingers in his and pulling her toward the door.
 
“Wait, we’re really leaving?” she asked with a laugh as he tugged her through the throng of wedding guests. 
 
“Yep.”
 
“I can’t,” she said. “It’s my sister’s wedding, I have family here, and . . .”
 
“But you want to leave,” he said, turning and facing her. 
 
She narrowed her gaze. “Why would I want that?”
 
He met her eyes. “Because you don’t like weddings any more than I do.”

 

Lauren Layne is the USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen romantic comedies. She lives in New York City with her husband (who was her high school sweetheart–cute, right?!) and plus-sized
Pomeranian.

In 2011, she ditched her corporate career in Seattle to pursue a full-time
writing career in Manhattan, and never looked back.

In her ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would
carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books.

For a list of all her works, please be sure to check out her official website!

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway