Category: Excerpt Reveal

Excerpt Reveal….Toe the Line by Penelope Ward

Title: Toe the Line
Author: Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Trope: Friends-to-Lovers
Release Date: February 27, 2023
BLURB

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a friends-to-lovers story spanning more than a decade…

At first, I thought I’d hate spending the summer with Archie Remington—the conceited son of my parents’ friends.
What I knew about Archie: he was gorgeous, pre-law, and had always treated me like I didn’t exist when we were younger.
When our families bought a house together on an island in Maine, he and I were forced to share a bathroom.
The boy I remembered was now a full-grown man—but with the same attitude.
After a rough start, Archie and I unexpectedly started getting along one day and eventually became friends. We shared secrets and bonded during our morning jogs. I discovered that Archie had a wild spirit and that he struggled to conform to his father’s expectations.
Things were cool until I had to go and ruin it, getting drunk one night, and blurting out my fantasy—involving him.
I took it back, but it was too late. Archie had heard me loud and clear. After that, we never quite knew how to toe the line.
When that summer came to an abrupt and shocking end, I headed back to college, unsure if anything would ever be the same again.
Across the miles over the years, he and I stayed in touch as friends, but fate and timing always kept us from becoming more.
You know the saying: If two people are meant to be, they’ll find their way back to each other?
Let’s just say Archie came back into my life in a way I would’ve never expected.
And this time, my heart would really be put to the test.
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EXCERPT
Copyright © 2022 Penelope Ward

Mixing alcohol with nostalgia, it turns out, is not always the wisest choice.
When Archie and I returned to the house that night, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Neither of us was tired enough to sleep. But the alcohol from the beers at the beach and the wine he’d opened once we got back home was going to my head fast. I could no longer be trusted with my words.
Archie took out the chocolate cake he’d made earlier and placed it on the counter. We both began eating it—with our bare hands. It was a mess, and I likely had chocolate all over my face. So this is how it ends, huh? I suppose it could be worse.
“I had so much fun tonight,” he said with his mouth full. “You?”
“It was awesome. Reminded me of the old days.” I licked chocolate off the corner of my mouth.
Archie’s eyes fell to my lips. “Seven years ago sometimes feels like yesterday, and other times like forever ago, doesn’t it?”
When I felt my eyes starting to well up, I knew that was my cue. I never wanted to leave Archie’s side, but I needed this weekend to be over before I lost it in front of him. “Anyway, we’d better go to bed,” I told him. “We both have early flights in the morning.”
I hopped down from my stool and rushed over to the sink to wash my hands. I hadn’t intended to make eye contact with him again because I didn’t want him to notice my eyes. Then again, he was a little drunk, too, so not sure how perceptive he would be.
Then I felt his presence nearby.
“I have so many regrets,” he said from behind me.
I turned to face him and swallowed. “Regrets about what?”
He had chocolate cake on his face, but somehow he’d never looked hotter.
“Everything,” he whispered. “With you.” He paused. “What we did and what we didn’t do. The way that summer ended. Everything.”
“Why are you bringing this up now?”
“Because I’m fucking drunk, I guess. I don’t know.” He pulled on his hair. “You look so goddamn beautiful right now.” His eyes were hazy as he murmured, “It hurts to look at you.”
My tears felt ready to fall. I couldn’t let that happen. “Keep that shit to yourself,” I muttered.
“We never talk about it, Noelle. We talk about everything else except the massive elephant in the room—the things we did that summer, what almost happened before—”
“Stop.” I sniffled. “You’re only bringing it up because you’re drunk. This is not a healthy way to discuss anything.”
“Maybe.” Archie leaned against the center island and placed his head in his hands. He went silent for a long time. “You were with Shane for like…forever. I thought you were gonna marry that guy. And I thought you were happy. I never thought you’d break up with him.” He looked down at the floor. “I kept waiting and…”

Waiting? He was waiting for things to end between Shane and me?

“I’m sorry…” He shook his head. “You’re right. I need to stop.”
Nothing good could come of two people with a ton of unspoken baggage trying to work things out while drunk. I could’ve poured out all of my feelings. I could have chosen to complicate his already-complicated life—turned it into a goddamn soap opera. But I loved him too much. I loved him. So I wouldn’t do that.
“Goodnight, Archie. Get some sleep.”
I left him standing in the kitchen next to a chocolate cake that looked like it had been ravaged by wild animals.
Then I went to my room and cried myself to sleep.
AUTHOR BIO
Penelope
Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling
author of contemporary romance.

She grew up
in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a
television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son,
and beautiful daughter with autism.

With over two
million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author
of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen
languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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Excerpt Blitz…The Game by Vi Keeland

Title: The Game
Author: Vi Keeland
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: January 16, 2023
Take a sneak peek of THE GAME. 
You know you want to…

I tilted my head. “Can I ask you something?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Why are you here?”
“You mean at the Bruins?”
I shook my head. “No, here with me at this moment. You must have plenty of other things you could be doing right now that are more fun than listening to my drivel.”
“Maybe I like drivel.”
I snort-laughed. “No one likes drivel.”
He smiled, and his eyes dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second. “Maybe I like you.”
I shifted in my seat to face him. “Why?”
Christian shrugged again. “I don’t know. I think you’re interesting.”
My eyes narrowed. “What about me is interesting?”
“You’re a billionaire who lives in a rent-controlled apartment over a fruit stand and tried to give the team you inherited to your grandfather. What’s not interesting about you? Given your situation, most people I know would live in a penthouse by now and take car services, not walk twenty minutes to the stadium every day after getting off the train.”
I raised an eyebrow, and a grin spread across Christian’s face.
“Plus, you’re hot.”
That last part made me smile. “And technically, I’m your boss.”
His grin widened. “That makes you even hotter.”
I chuckled. “Tell me about yourself, Christian. I feel like you know so much about me, but I don’t know anything about you, other than your stats, of course.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“You think I’m hot too, don’t you?”
I laughed. “Just answer the question, Knox. Something tells me your ego gets stroked enough.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”
I tapped my lip with my pointer. “What do you do in the offseason?”
“Recover. Let my body heal. Sleep. Fish. I have a cabin on a lake up in Maine. Spend time with friends. Travel. Keep up with my training.”
“That sounds so…normal.”
“The season is anything but normal when you play in the NFL. It’s tough on the body and mind. You’re on the road all the time, the media follows your ass around, women hand you underwear with their numbers written on them and sneak into your hotel room. So normal is good.”
My face wrinkled. “Women give you their underwear?”
Christian smiled. “Any other questions?”
“Am I demented if I’m curious to know whether the underwear are clean or not?”
He laughed. “Maybe. But I like the way you think.”

★★★ 


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AUTHOR BIO
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-six languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria, and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

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Excerpt Reveal…The Rules of Dating by Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland

Title: The Rules of Dating
Authors: Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 19, 2022
Excited about Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland’s upcoming release, The Rules of Dating? 
Check out this SNEAK PEEK!
Crash!

Shit. Billie and I looked at each other. A devilish smirk spread across her face…and then she turned and bolted.
I looked around. The coast seemed clear, so I ran as fast as I could while pushing a heaping cart full of crap. For the last hour and a half, Billie had been picking things out and holding them up to show me. If I agreed, she chucked them over her shoulder for me to catch with the cart. I’d been zigging and zagging, trying to scoop up all the merchandise she threw as I followed her around—both of us laughing like school kids the entire time. That is, until I missed that last toss and a glass bowl shattered on the floor.
IKEA was a giant maze, and both of us kept running, turning left and then right, until we finally arrived in the warehouse portion of the store, which was right before the checkout line. Billie leaned over with her hands on her knees, huffing and puffing.
“I think we’re in the clear,” she said.
“Pretty sure I would’ve rather paid for the twelve-dollar bowl than make a run for it. This cart is so full, it almost tipped like ten times.”
She laughed. “Did we get everything we need?”
“I’m not sure. But we definitely bought a lot of shit we don’t need. Like I think we could have done without the motorized ice cream cone spinners. The tenant can lick their own ice cream.”
Billie grinned. “Those are for me and Saylor. They light up, too!”
I snorted. “Come on, let’s check out before I’m completely broke.”
While we loaded everything onto the conveyor belt, I lifted my chin toward the in-store restaurant located just after the cashier stations. “You still up for meatballs?”
“Uh…hello? It’s the only reason I came.”
I clutched my hand over my heart. “Oww, that hurts. And here I thought you came for the company.”
After we were all checked out, I wheeled the cart over to a table for two in the corner of the restaurant. “Why don’t you stay here with the stuff, and I’ll go get us some meatballs.”
“Okay. But can you get me a drink, too, please? I’m so thirsty.”
When I came back, I set two big plates of meatballs on the table.
“Did you forget the drinks?” Billie asked.
I grinned and lifted a finger. “Actually, I didn’t. I brought them.” My gym bag from earlier had been lying on the bottom shelf underneath the cart since we walked in. Taking it out, I unzipped and started to unpack. “Wine, madame?” I held a bottle of merlot over one arm, showing the label like a maître d’.
Billie cracked up. “You brought wine with you? I thought it was strange when you took your duffle bag into the store. But I figured maybe your wallet was in it and stuff.”
I shrugged. “What choice did I have? You won’t go out with me, so I have to make the best out of our undate at IKEA.” I unloaded two plastic wine glasses, white cloth napkins, and a candleholder with a red candle.
Billie picked up the candle and examined it before raising a brow. “A winter village scene?”
I shrugged. “They’re Christmas candles. I only had an hour to get out of the house with a four-year-old. Don’t judge.”
The looks we got from the people around us as we ate meatballs by candlelight were pretty comical. I was also pretty sure it was against the rules to have an open flame in IKEA, let alone an open bottle of wine, but evidently the people behind the counter hadn’t read the employee rule book to be certain. Either way, the smile on Billie’s face made it all worthwhile. After we were done eating, I blew out the candle and started to pack up.
“You know…” Billie shook her head. “I think you just snuck a date into our undate.”
I shoved the cork back into the top of the wine bottle and zippered it into my duffle. “I did not.”
She squinted at me. “I’m pretty sure you did. What’s the difference between what we just did and a date? We shared a candlelight meal with wine and cloth napkins.”
I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “The difference is, you don’t get to come at the end.”
When I pulled back, Billie’s jaw was hanging open. I freaking loved that she looked so affected. She swallowed. “Is that the way all your dates end?”
I shook my head back and forth slowly. “No, but it’s damn straight the way ours would.”

Copyright © 2022 Penelope Ward and Vi Keeland

BLURB
It all started when I hosted a little party for a bunch of new friends.

Though “friends” might not be the right word since the invitees were all the women I’d found out my boyfriend was talking to behind my back. When the guest of honor walked in—aka my now ex—things took a turn…
Unfortunately, a stranger witnessed the whole blowout. I was in a mood that night and ended up giving this gorgeous guy an attitude, too. As if my night could get any worse, before he stormed off, he informed me he was actually my landlord.
Colby Lennon, along with three of his friends, owned the building where my tattoo shop was located. He and I were total opposites. He wore a tie, oozed confidence that came with years of women falling at his feet, and wasn’t afraid to say what he wanted, which lately—was me.
I hated that I found myself attracted to him. Especially since I was supposed to be on a self-imposed dating hiatus. Yet the two of us couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. We started hanging out, as friends. I even went as far as making rules for what he’d dubbed our “undates.”
But eventually, our explosive attraction became too much to bear, and we broke our resolve. I let my guard down and started to really fall for Colby.
Nothing could have prepared me for the ride he took me on. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for where I’d wind up when the ride was over.
All good things must come to an end, right?
Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.
PENELOPE WARD


Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance. 

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism. 
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
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Excerpt Reveal…Never Look Back by A.L. Jackson

Never Look Back
An Enemies-to-Lovers, Close-Proximity, Second-Chance Romance from A.L. Jackson
Coming August 29th

Tension bound the room, and few words had been said, everyone’s attention rapt on the duel
going down.
Jarek tried to keep his expression neutral, the pompous prick with his slicked back black hair and
his careless confidence that had been given to him through his name rather than earned.
Like he was confident I would let him reach out and take what was mine.
Not ever again.
Even with the pungent arrogance, I saw the tick of his jaw, the flinch of his eyes, the sheen of
sweat that hinted at the edges of his brow and glimmered beneath the dull lights from the chandelier that
hung from above.
He glanced at his dwindling chips.
“Your father-in-law would be proud. If only he could see you now.” I couldn’t help but taunt it as
I rocked back in my chair. I did my best to ignore the presence that hovered over him from behind.
A presence that fanned out and teased me like a sinful, decadent dream. A dream that had once
been so beautiful it’d coerced me into believing there just might be something better in this life than
depravity and greed.
I glanced up in time to catch the worry that riddled those fire-agate eyes. The golden green with
flecks of red that were begging for something she didn’t deserve to be given.
Mercy.
I tore my attention from the lure of hers and watched as redness clawed at Jarek’s throat before
he started to push in the chips to meet the bet.
Aster gripped him by the shoulder. “Jarek, don’t do this.”

I had to wonder exactly what he had riding on the line. Why he was there. Why I could feel the
chinks in his armor coming apart.
Flinging off her hand, he cut her a hard glare.
“Don’t,” he warned.
The word was coated with his humiliation. With desperation.
Ah.
There was the chink.
Weakness wept through the powerful persona.
Reluctantly, Aster withdrew her hand, and her delicate throat trembled as she swallowed. She
lifted that stoic chin that I’d caressed more times than I could count.
Okay, fine.
That was a goddamn lie because I remembered every fucking touch. Every glance. Every broken
promise she had made.
Jarek met my stare as he pushed nearly the rest of his chips into the pot, raising me by a thousand.
I raised him another ten.
How far are you going to go, asshole? Whatever you have, it’s mine.
A soft sound of pain wheezed from Aster’s chest. A heave of distressed air.
My gaze followed to where the black dress she wore dipped low between her tits. My heart fisted
when I saw what she wore around her neck. It was a star-shaped necklace, dangling down to kiss her
cleavage.
I nearly cracked. Lost the control I was holding onto.
It had to be a joke.
A taunt.
A fucking cruel, sick twisted one, the girl coming down here and parading it like a slap to my face.
It made my teeth clench and the fury I was barely constraining flashfire through my veins.
I tore my attention from her when Jarek spat, “Fuck,” under his breath.
He still clutched his cards, refusing to give up the fight.
Haille laughed, the sadistic fucker enjoying this far too much. He looked at Jarek. How the hell he
knew him, I didn’t have a clue, but I didn’t believe in a coincidence quite this big. He pulled his cigar from
his mouth and jabbed it Jarek’s direction. “It seems you’re in a small predicament, Mr. Urso. Are you
already going to walk? And here I thought you were going to bring something interesting to the table.”

Jarek all but growled, and Aster’s gaze darted between the three of us. Nerves flew from her soft,
caramel flesh. That face carved of perfect lines and smooth skin tightened in dread.
He’d brought something interesting to the table, all right.
“Just cut your losses, Jarek.” She begged it quietly, but I heard the strength behind it.
Jarek roughed his hand down his pompous face, and he turned to look at the necklace around
Aster’s neck as if it could be a solution to his issues.
Aster gasped, and her hand came up to protect it. Tears sprang to her eyes. She took a small step
back. “No,” she wheezed, like it would physically pain her to remove it.
I wanted to jump to my feet.
Take hold of her and demand answers.
Demand to know why.
Why had she done it if she could stand there and look like there was a piece of her that was
broken.
Anger and confusion had me in a stranglehold.
Old grief I’d buried deep that was clawing to the surface.
“Give it to me,” Jarek grated.
“No.” My voice cut through the dense air.
A roll of thunder.
The tolling of a challenge.
Aster froze. Her stare landed on me.
It was pain.
A plea.
Desperation.
It only made the sickness thrum harder.
I looked to Jarek.
“The girl.”
The stake came out without thought to repercussions.
Without rationale.
No sense.
Just revenge.

I wanted what never should have been his.
A gasp rocked from her, and she stumbled back farther.
Jarek’s eyes sharpened to blades, and there was no question he wanted to reach over the table
and choke the life from me.
My fingers itched.
I hoped he tried.
I gave nothing. No smile. No sneer. Just the quiet hatred that emanated from within. The fact I
intended to take everything from him.
I’d known one day I would. I just hadn’t anticipated the opportunity would present itself so soon.
He blinked then jutted his chin at the dealer for the exotic chip.
The one that signified he would hazard my proposition.
It wasn’t rare. A bid made for a beach home. A family heirloom. Something that couldn’t be
replaced. Here, fortunes were won and lost.
“What are you doing? I am not for sale.” Aster’s voice was aghast. Horrified and filled with disgust.
“He’s bluffing, Aster.” Jarek tossed in the chip.
It was the first time I let myself fully look at her. To sit back and take her in like she was mine to
take. Sickened terror ridged her gorgeous face because I was pretty sure she knew this wasn’t close to a
bluff.
I couldn’t do anything but crack a grin. “It seems you are tonight.”
Then I laid down my cards.
A straight flush.


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“My heart in my throat for most of the book and she just did NOT disappoint! At all!”
— The Masque Reader



A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She
writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME,
CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, FALLING STARS, and REDEMPTION HILLS novels. Watch out for her
upcoming stand-alone, NEVER LOOK BACK, releasing August 29th!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her
friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.

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Excerpt Reveal…Fling by Adriana Locke

 

FLING by Adriana Locke

Release Date: August 15th

Genre/Tropes: Contemporary Romance

 

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Excerpt:

CONTEST: WIN A DATE TO MY HONEYMOON

 

I realize that a social media post isn’t the usual way to secure a date to your honeymoon—for obvious reasons—but here we are.

 

My wedding was canceled. What’s not canceled is the nonrefundable, ten-thousand-dollar all-inclusive vacation at a luxury resort, and I’m not about to let it go to waste.

 

I’m packed and ready to hit the beach. But I can’t deny that it might be more interesting to honeymoon with someone.

 

Since my track record of picking dates isn’t exactly golden, I’ve done something that I hope I don’t regret. In a moment of weakness—mixed with panic and fueled by margaritas—I agreed to let my friends choose someone to go with me.

 

It’ll be a blind date / postnuptial vacation—without the nuptials. A few fun days in paradise with no expectations. No obligations.

 

Before you say, “pick me for a free vacay!”, a few things to consider …

 

The perfect candidate will be single. He won’t talk too much on the plane. And he’ll be able to leave town quickly.

 

He will also be okay with sharing a bed. It’s a honeymoon suite, after all.

 

If you want to be considered, email Rebecca and Sara your application at the address below. (Get creative. There’s a free vacation on the line.)

 

Wheels up next week!

Blurb:

Subject: You up?

This is definitely a feeling cute, might want to delete later situation. But isn’t every message sent at two in the morning a precursor to regret?

By the way, I hope you read that subject line as the pun it was intended to be.

Okay, cutting to the chase—neither of us has an interest in cultivating an emotional connection with each other, right? You have your reasons, and I have mine. But none of that keeps us from nearly crossing the line from professional to personal every freaking day.

I mean, what was that almost kiss in the hallway this afternoon?

Something has to give. So this is me, giving in.

I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but what if you and I had … a fling?

Just a short-lived non-romance. No pretending it will ever be more. We’ll avoid flowers and flirting and get to the f—you know what I mean.

That’s all either of us wants anyway.

Think about it. Let me know.

I’ll see you in the office in the morning.

Oh! One more thing—If you’re not into this, don’t ever mention you saw this email. I’ll pretend I never saw it either.

Okay. Bye.

 

About the Author:

USA Today and Washington Post bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.

 

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.

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Website: https://adrianalocke.com

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Excerpt & Review…The Difference Between Someday and Forever by Aly Martinez

The world took everything from us.
And we would stop at nothing until we took it all back—forever.

The Difference Between Someday and Forever, the much anticipated and stunning conclusion to The Difference Trilogy from USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez is now live!

The world took everything from us.

As survivors of not only a plane crash, but two other impossible tragedies, we’d more than earned a life of peace. But time and time again, we were shown that fate had no intention of giving that to us.

Remi and I were soulmates. Plain and simple. Our love should have died in the depths of our darkness, but the sun still exists even when it’s not shining.

The secrets of our past threatened to destroy us at every turn, but for Remi, I would never stop fighting for our future.

The world took everything from us.
And we would stop at nothing until we took it all back—forever.

Fall in love today!
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Start the trilogy today!
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Excerpt from The Difference Between Somebody and Someone

“Sorry, is my mood killing your buzz?” I asked.
Her blue eyes sparkled in the glow of the airplane reading light. “It really is.”
I shook my head and went back to mindlessly flipping the pages of a magazine I’d bought at the terminal back in Colorado. I’d picked it up with hopes it would be a distraction from the cyclone raging within me on our way back to Atlanta. The minute she ordered that drink, I’d known it was a lost cause.
Her hand came across the armrest and landed on my thigh. “Bowen, stop. It’s not a big deal.”
It was the truth. Compared to everything we’d been through, our house could have been swallowed by a sinkhole and it wouldn’t have been considered a big deal.
Honest to God, I was lucky to still have her at all. It had only been nine months since we’d met, but we’d lived a thousand lives in that time. Unfortunately, that also meant we’d died almost as many deaths.
Terrifying, tortuous, agony-filled deaths.
We’d also found love though—immeasurable amounts of it.
I stared down at her engagement ring. I’d cashed out a huge chunk of my savings account and still had to open a line of credit with the jewelry store to buy the three-karat princess-cut ring. The payment was roughly the same as I paid for my truck each month, but the tears in her eyes as she’d sat in her hospital bed, clutching it to her chest the day I proposed, made it all worth it.
She was worth it. Every day, every tear, every worry-filled minute shaved off my life.
I’d do it all again.
If only I weren’t so helpless to save her. I loved that woman. Whole heart. Whole soul. Bend me, break me, crack me open and she would have been there. No matter how bad it got, she was always a part of me.
I wasn’t sure anymore if she could say the same.
“Bowen,” she whispered, just as she’d done so many times before. It was a plea. One she knew I’d answer no matter the situation. No matter how mad I got. No matter how much I feared losing her again.
My gaze instinctively lifted to hers.
She smiled and the sight caused an ache in my chest. It was a lie.
God, I missed her smile.
“Baby, I’m okay.” She tilted her head to her drink. “I hate flying. That’s all this is.”
That was a lie too.
My shoulders fell and a loud breath tore from my burning lungs, but I let myself pretend, my mind going back to a time when it could have been the truth.
I thought of the nights we’d shared multiple bottles of wine and made love, laughing and moaning under the covers until the sun crept across the horizon. She’d rested peacefully in my arms. No nightmares. No crying in her sleep. No insomnia. Just even breaths, her head on my shoulder, and her body wound around mine so tightly it was like a second skin.
But that was the past.
The unreachable, insurmountable past.
The plane jerked, forcing me back to the present.
“Shit.” She moved her hand off my thigh to grasp her drink as it sloshed all over her. “Crap, crap, crap,” she chanted, using a cocktail napkin to dry the dark-red pool of tomato juice on her white pants.
For a moment, I sat there and watched her struggle. It wasn’t the most chivalrous thing to do, but I was all out of grand gestures.
She unbuckled her seat belt and lurched to her feet, her phone along with a handful of ice cubes from her lap falling to the floor. “Damn, this is going to leave a huge stain.”
The plane jerked again and she stumbled forward, crashing into the seat in front of her before I could catch her arm.
“Dammit, sit down before you get hurt.”
Ignoring me, she bent over to fish her phone from under the seat. “Hit the button for the flight attendant. I need some club soda and a lemon. STAT.”
“No, what you need is to sit down.”
I gave her arm a tug and dragged her down to the seat. Using the tip of my boot, I swept her phone toward her. Aforementioned lack of chivalry aside, I was no contortionist; leaning over to pick it up was out of the question.
She folded her upper body over my lap and blindly patted around the floor. I fought the urge to run my fingers through the back of her hair. In the beginning, it would have been a no-brainer. I’d have curled forward and suggestively whispered in her ear, “Since you’re already down there…”
She would have grinned up at me, her whole face filled with mischief as she traced a finger over my zipper, ignoring anyone who dared to watch her as she replied, “You mean down here?”
I’d have grabbed her hand and made her stop even though I was the one who had started it. She had no filter. She always took it one step too far. I’d loved that about her when we’d first met. It was fresh and exciting, a far cry from the stuffy women I’d dated in the past.
But now, she was in the past too.
We were in the past.

A trilogy like no other!!!

The Difference Between Someday and Forever is the final book in Aly’s The Difference Trilogy. 

This book starts off exactly where book two ended and readers are right back to gripping the edge of their seats.

All of Aly’s readers know how addictive her characters and their stories. However, this trilogy hit differently and shows immense growth in her talent. 

This conclusion was dramatic and emotionally intense. While books 1 and 2 gave readers a intense, heart-pounding suspense, this final book was just as intense but in a completely different way.

TDBSAF was still intriguing and intense but on a more emotional and mental level. Aly brings a different intensity to this story that’s just as compelling and has readers waiting with bated breath.

Remi and Bowen’s story is one for the ages. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions and keeps readers engaged from start to finish.

This trilogy kept me on my toes to the very end. Aly delivers a few unexpected surprises in this final installment and still gives readers the story of a lifetime.

About Aly
Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her four hilarious children.
Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys movies that can surprise her with a twist, charcuterie boards, and her mildly neurotic golden retriever. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.
She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine by her side.

Connect with Aly
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Excerpt Reveal…Sapphire Sunset by C. Travis Rice

Will saving Sapphire Cove help forge the union they crave, or will it drive them apart once more?

Sapphire Sunset, an all new emotional and captivating MM romance from New York Times bestselling author Christopher Rice writing as C. Travis Rice, is available now!

For the first time, New York Times bestselling author Christopher Rice writes as C. Travis Rice. Under his new pen name, Rice offers tales of passion, intrigue, and steamy romance between men. The first novel, SAPPHIRE SUNSET, transports you to a beautiful luxury resort on the sparkling Southern California coast where strong-willed heroes release the shame that blocks their heart’s desires.

Logan Murdoch is a fighter, a survivor, and a provider. When he leaves a distinguished career in the Marine Corps to work security at a luxury beachfront resort, he’s got one objective: pay his father’s mounting medical bills. That means Connor Harcourt, the irresistibly handsome scion of the wealthy family that owns Sapphire Cove, is strictly off limits, despite his sassy swagger and beautiful blue eyes. Logan’s life is all about sacrifices; Connor is privilege personified. But temptation is a beast that demands to be fed, and a furtive kiss ignites instant passion, forcing Logan to slam the brakes. Hard.

Haunted by their frustrated attraction, the two men find themselves hurled back together when a headline-making scandal threatens to ruin the resort they both love. This time, there’s no easy escape from the magnetic pull of their white hot desire. Will saving Sapphire Cove help forge the union they crave, or will it drive them apart once more?

Fall in love with Logan and Connor today!
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Excerpt

“Wow.” Logan’s voice echoed through the rocky chamber.
Here, the sounds of the ocean surf softened into something that was more like a gurgling brook. What whitecaps the cave’s mouth captured were filtered down into something frothy and inviting amidst the labyrinth of low rocks within. The basic security lights at foot level threw a soft golden light across the metal struts that secured the rock ceiling overhead.
“I used to come here all the time as a kid with my friends,” Connor said nervously. “There’re all kinds of caverns back here we used to play and hide in before my mom found out and busted us. She still has no idea they don’t go that deep. She still thinks you could get lost in here. But I’ve got an excellent sense of direction.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, I usually know where things are headed.”
“Makes sense, I guess. Your life’s kinda laid out for you, right? You’ll probably run this place someday, right? Heir apparent and all that.”
“Oh, God. Do they still call me the prince?” Connor turned, resting his butt against the guardrail so he could focus on Logan.
“Kinda.”
“Is that a good thing? Should I be annoyed by that?”
“Better to be the prince than a peasant, I guess,” Logan said.
“Are those really the only two choices?”
Logan laughed, but there was relief in it. As if Connor’s snarky response had shined a light on possibilities he hadn’t seen before now. “I guess not.”
“Whatever. I’ll let it go.”
Silence then, save for the gurgling of the sea pushing its way past them and deeper into the cave.
Connor rested his elbows on the rail on either side of him, an attempt to look casual even though the sight of Logan leaning against the cave wall, hands in his pockets, studying Connor with a half smile made Connor feel welded in place. “All right, your turn.”
“My turn for what?” Logan asked.
“I told you mine, and my grandpa’s. What’s your magic moment?”
“Okay.” Logan straightened. “So if I remember correctly, it’s like a moment when you’re doing something you love and you feel the most satisfied by it. Is that right?”
“Exactly.” Connor was thrilled that Logan had listened so closely.
“Well, my life is kind of starting over, so I’m kind of figuring out what it is I love to do. Kickboxing’s up there, but that’s more of a fast and furious kind of thing, and the high is mostly when I’m done. Not sure there’s really a magic hour there. There was some stuff about the Marines that I loved, especially once I was a staff sergeant and I was in the zone for gunnery sergeant. But a lot of it was tough, and a lot to hold.”
“I’m sure.”
When Logan started toward him through the shadows, Connor’s breath caught. His feet felt planted to the boards, and the sides of his face got tingly and hot.
“So if I had to pick,” Logan said, “I’d pick this one.”
“Walking rounds?”
“No. I’d pick the moment when I’m finally all alone with a guy who drives me wild, and I know we’re about to kiss, but I’m not sure when. So there’s this tension in the air, and I can feel it. Everywhere.”
They were inches apart now, so close Connor had to look up at him to maintain eye contact.
“And we’re both circling, waiting for the right moment. And I’m trying to take it kinda slow because I know one little touch”—Logan gently grazed Connor’s cheek with the side of one finger—“and it might turn into a lot more than a kiss. But first, there’s a promise to be kept.”
“What promise is that?” Connor asked in a squeaky whisper.
“I believe you promised me a dance.”
“Or you promised me one.”
“Either way, seems like time.”

About C. Travis Rice
C. Travis Rice is the pseudonym New York Times bestselling novelist Christopher Rice devotes to steamy tales of romance between men. Christopher has published multiple bestselling books in multiple genres and been the recipient of a Lambda Literary Award. With his mother, Anne Rice, he is an executive producer on the AMC Studios adaptations of her novels The Vampire Chronicles and The Lives of the Mayfair Witches. Together with his best friend and producing partner, New York Times bestselling novelist, Eric Shaw Quinn, he runs the production company Dinner Partners. Among other projects, they produce the podcast and video network, TDPS, which you can find at www.TheDinnerPartyShow.com.

Connect with C. Travis Rice
Website: http://www.christopherricebooks.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christopher.rice.writer
Twitter: https://twitter.com/chrisricewriter

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Excerpt Reveal…The Assignment by Penelope Ward

Title: The Assignment
Author: Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 28, 2022
BLURB

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new standalone novel.

Reasons why I should not be drawn to Troy Serrano.
Number one: He’s obnoxious.
Number two: He and I were enemies over a decade ago in high school.
Number three: He’s my friend’s ex-boyfriend.
I could go on and on, really.
When my boss gives me an unwanted assignment and tells me it involves spending time with the grandson of one of our residents—the grandson turns out to be Troy. He’s now as successful as he is undeniably handsome.
Lucky me. Four hours a week of having to deal with his insufferable personality and unsolicited advice.
The only consolation is getting to stare at his annoyingly gorgeous face in between our many arguments.
Eventually, though, we slowly warm to each other and our outings become something I actually look forward to.

What’s happening to me?

Apparently, I misunderstood the assignment, because it certainly didn’t include thinking about Troy when I close my eyes at night, imagining what it would be like with him—just once. All the while hating myself for fantasizing about a guy who’s all wrong for me. A guy whose car I keyed back in the day. (Long story, but he deserved it.)
That’s all this is—a fantasy.
Well, until that one night at the bar.
The night Troy and I run into each other, and all of our pent-up frustration comes barreling out.
Still, I refuse to accept that it means anything.
There’s no way the guy I’m supposed to hate is also the one I can’t live without.

PRE-ORDER LINKS
**No Amazon e-book preorder. 
Will go live on/around release day
EXCERPT
Copyright © 2021 Penelope Ward

I hadn’t gone out with a man in ages, and I needed to get back in the game before I shriveled up. I laughed to myself. If only these dating app boys could see me in this mask and robe.
I sipped my tea and began to alternate scrolling with shoveling unsweetened cacao nibs into my mouth.
After several minutes of swiping through, I suddenly stopped chewing at the sight of a familiar pair of pearly whites.

I know those teeth.
I know that man.
Oh God.

Staring me in the face was none other than Troy Serrano.

Holy crap.

Troy, 29

I tossed my phone as if it were infected with a contagious virus.
A few seconds later, I picked it back up and stared at his profile picture. I wouldn’t have imagined Troy needed to use a dating app, but being new to town again, maybe he felt like it was the easiest way to meet people. Of course, the app had sent him my way in part because we were geographically close to each other. I wanted to block him, but I wasn’t sure exactly how to do that. I’d never had to block anyone from seeing my profile before. But there was no way I wanted him to notice me on here. If he’d come up as an option for me, surely the app would present me to him at some point. My stomach sank. I’d figure out how to block him right after I thoroughly scrutinized his profile.
The photos he’d chosen were, of course, really good. But could he even take a bad photo with that face and f*ck-me hair? In one, he wore a form-fitting black sweater and leaned up against a brick wall. In another, he held up a fish he’d caught, with his chiseled abs on display.
Then I scrolled down to the section where you were supposed to describe yourself. Whereas most men write a simple paragraph, Troy had written an obituary.

God, what the hell is this?

Financial advisor Troy S.’s love of life will live on through his many friends who will continue to honor his legacy by living their lives to the fullest.
Born in Meadowbrook, New Jersey, to a single father who broke his ass raising him, Troy learned firsthand what it meant to work hard. On his own, though, he figured out that working hard meant you should play harder.
Troy attended the University of Florida for both his undergraduate degree and Masters in Business Administration. (Go Gators!) After several years of partying it up, Troy decided to take life seriously for once as he embarked on a career as one of the premier financial advisors in the Pacific Northwest. Troy shared his passion for numbers with his many happy clients.
The simplest pleasures in life brought great joy to Troy. He was equally happy Netflix-and-chilling as he was ziplining in Costa Rica. On weekends, Troy often spent time teaching himself how to play the guitar. He loved to explore local hiking trails and struck up conversations with strangers in many of Seattle’s coffee shops, charming people with his charisma and verve for life.
He had a remarkable ability to see the silver lining in everything. His positive personality was contagious to everyone he met. Troy is survived by his father, grandfather, and one needy cat.
Lucky for you, all of the above is mostly true except that Troy’s not actually dead. He’s very much alive and eager to see if you’re a match.

Lordy.

My phone vibrated, scaring the living hell out of me. It was a text from Jasmine, making sure I’d gotten home okay. But then the screen changed. Wait, what? When my hand jerked, I’d accidentally swiped right on Troy’s profile. I wouldn’t have even realized this were it not for the words: It’s a match!

What?
Oh no.

No. No. No.

If we matched, that meant one thing: Troy had previously swiped right on me. Ugh! How long had he known I was on here?
I threw the phone again, as if it were infected with yet another dangerous virus.
For about a minute, I just sat in a panic, my hands wrapped around my face.
Then I picked up the phone to try to undo the action. But before I could find the information, a notification popped up. Troy had sent me a direct message through the app.
My heart pounded in my chest. I clicked on it.

Troy: Well, well, well. What do we have here?

I couldn’t type fast enough.

Aspyn: We have nothing here. I accidentally swiped right on your profile. This was a mistake.

My pulse raced as the little dots moved around.

Troy: Um, what now? How exactly does that happen? Accidentally swiping right?

I realized how ridiculous that sounded. But it was the damn truth! Figures the stupidest thing ever would happen to me, and I’d never be able to convince him it was true.

Aspyn: My phone vibrated and startled me. I happened to be looking at your profile at the time.

Troy: Oh, that explains it. Phones vibrating can be quite traumatic.

I blew a frustrated breath toward my forehead.

Aspyn: You don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth.

Troy: Why were you looking at my profile?

Aspyn: Because this stupid app force fed it to me.

Troy: So, were you looking at my pictures, thinking: “Damn, he’s a handsome sonofabitch. Too bad I hate him.”

Aspyn: You got the last part right. 😉

Troy: What did you think of my profile?

Aspyn: Honestly?

Troy: Yeah.

Aspyn: It’s utterly obnoxious.

Troy: Why do you say that?

Aspyn: That fake obituary? LOL Do you expect people to take you seriously?

Troy: It was supposed to be FUNNY and clever. I thought you said you liked funny men, according to your boring-as-f*ck bio.

Aspyn: If I’m so boring, why the hell did you swipe right on me?

Troy: Because I couldn’t get myself to swipe left. I felt bad for you. Let’s talk about your bio, though.

I looked up and screamed at the ceiling. My voice echoed throughout the house.

Aspyn: Let’s not.

Troy: Boring. As. F*ck. First off, though, a compliment: You look really hot in those photos. I barely recognized you.

I refused to acknowledge the chill that ran down my spine at his backhanded compliment. Instead, I typed again.

Aspyn: Nothing like immediately following up an insult with a compliment and then another insult.

Troy: It’s constructive criticism. I know you’re better than that bio. It was as if you copied and pasted it from some other boring-as-f*ck profile.

Aspyn: There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s simple and to the point. You’re not supposed to write a dissertation—or an obituary.

Troy: But you’re not selling who you actually are.

Aspyn: I didn’t realize I was supposed to be “selling” myself. I have enough trouble on the app attracting losers without doing anything at all. Maybe I should intentionally remain boring to keep them away. Yeah, that’s a better idea.

Troy: Well, your photos are the bomb. So you’re gonna attract a fair share of men. But come on, put a little life into the other stuff.

Aspyn: I was embarrassed for you reading your profile.

Troy: Well, at least within my fake obituary lies the essence of who I am.

Aspyn: A buffoon? You’re correct.

Troy: Let me help you rewrite your bio.

I cackled and typed.

Aspyn: No, thank you.

Troy: Give me a sec.

Excerpt Reveal…Group Therapy by B.B. Easton

“A swoon inducing romance penned in the way only BB can—with the perfect amount of witty humor and spice. Loved it!”
—Kate Stewart, USA Today Bestselling Author

Group Therapy, a brand new steamy and laugh-out-loud rom-com from Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author BB Easton is now available!

From the Wall Street Journal bestselling author of 44 Chapters About 4 Men (inspiration for the 4th Most-Watched Netflix Original Series of all time, Sex/Life) comes a romantic comedy about an inexperienced psychologist who falls for one of her clients and creates a therapy group from hell as an excuse to see him after hours.

I am thiiiiis close to finally becoming a full-fledged psychologist. PhD? Check. Prestigious postdoc position, providing therapy to entitled millionaires and C-list celebrities whose pumpkin spice lattes cost more than my Converse and make excellent projectiles during their reality TV–worthy tantrums? Check. Letter of recommendation from my velociraptor-like supervisor?

That’s going to take a miracle. Not only because my boss said I have to cure our most-prized client’s writer’s block in time for him to meet his insane deadline, but also because that client just so happens to be …

Thomas F*@%ing O’Reardon.

Yeah, that Thomas O’Reardon. The wickedly brilliant, achingly beautiful, devastatingly British best-selling author whose psychological thrillers line my bookshelf at home and whose face I might or might not picture while I … you get the point. Sitting in a confined space with him; inhaling the crisp, clean scent of his cologne; gazing into his broody blue eyes while trying to remember to nod and listen and come up with suggestions that don’t involve taking our clothes off … it’s torture.

So, when Thomas casually asks me out at the end of a therapy session, I’m forced to make an impossible choice: say yes and risk losing my dream job, or say no and risk losing my dream guy. In a panic, I blurt out a third option—the only solution I can think of that will allow me to see this man after hours without it being considered a career-ending ethics violation:

Group therapy.

The only problem? I’ve never actually done group therapy. And side problem: my other clients are heathens. But what’s the worst that could happen? I mean, it’s not like I’m going to lose all control of the group and let it devolve into a chaotic, bloodthirsty, topless fight club.

Right?

Fall in love today!
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Excerpt

He wraps his warm, ocean-scented, oxford cloth shirt around my shoulders, and for some strange reason, my eyes begin to burn. I blink the stinging sensation away and focus on my breathing as my fingers instinctively curl around the open material and cinch it tighter around my body.
It feels like a hug.
A hug that I didn’t realize I’d needed so badly.
“Thanks,” I whisper, swallowing the emotion lodged in my throat.
Thomas folds his arms across his chest and shrugs, his shoulders already tense from the cold.
Say something!
“So, you weren’t freaked out by what happened in there?” I ask, tilting my head toward the building where the group therapy session from hell just occurred.
Please say no. Please say you’ll come back next week.
“Actually”—Thomas gives me a crooked smile—“it was kind of fun.” The corners of his mouth drop along with his gaze as it drifts slowly to the ground. “I wonder what it’s like to feel that free.”
“You only say that because you weren’t the one whose client had you in a headlock.”
He laughs silently, and it’s the perfect example of the self-control he wishes he could let go of.
“Maybe that’s why you write about psychopaths,” I add, missing the weight of his eyes on me. “So you can experience what it’s like to be that … uninhibited.”
A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Wrote,” he says, his eyes darkening as they travel to a place even farther away from me. “Past tense.”
With that, Thomas turns to open his car door, and I panic. I panic, and I do the dumbest thing I’ve done yet, which is saying a lot.
I reach out and grab his hand.
Thomas goes completely still.
I go completely still.
Even the wind, which had been swirling brittle orange leaves around our feet, goes completely still as the words, “Will write,” leave me on a shaky breath.
I try to let go of Thomas’s hand, but he laces his fingers through mine, holding me captive. Then, he turns and captures me with his eyes as well.
“Future tense,” I add, unable to look away from the restraint and madness I see warring in his eyes.
Thomas’s gaze drops to my lips, and when I run my tongue along the seam instead of screaming or slapping him or prying my fingers loose, he begins to lean forward. No. He is being pulled forward. By me. By my actions. By my confusing mixed signals. I invited this. And I have to stop it.
But I can’t. My brain is barking commands that my body is no longer listening to. I watch helplessly from inside my traitorous body as Thomas lifts his other hand, slides it beneath my curtain of hair, which is still tucked inside his shirt, and cups the side of my neck.
His thumb caresses the ridge of my jaw, and like the strike of a match, my neglected husk of a body goes up in flames. The heat engulfs me, spreading like a forest fire as it burns away the fingerprints of every man who’s ever touched me before. It ignites something deep inside of me—an inextinguishable need. An excruciating singular desire.
I close my eyes and lean into his touch. And I hate myself for it.
I can’t do this. I can’t kill my career. I can’t sabotage his treatment. But as I stand here, rooted to the spot, with Thomas’s fingers laced in mine and his hand splayed across my skin, I can’t even make myself exhale, let alone walk away.
Just as Thomas’s breath, warm and sweet, dances over my parted lips, as my body tenses and braces for the impact of this wrecking ball of a man, it is the voice of another man that breaks the spell.
“Dr. Sterling?”

About BB Easton

Wall Street Journal bestselling author BB Easton lives in the suburbs of Atlanta with her long-suffering husband, Ken, and two adorable children. She recently quit her job as a school psychologist to write books about her punk rock past and deviant sexual history full-time. Ken is suuuper excited about that.
BB’s debut memoir, 44 CHAPTERS ABOUT 4 MEN, is the inspiration for the #4 Most-Watched Netflix Original Series of all time, SEX/LIFE. Because she had so much fun writing it, BB went on to publish four more wickedly funny, shockingly steamy, and heartwarmingly honest books, one for each man in her memoir: SKIN, SPEED, STAR, and SUIT.
THE RAIN TRILOGY, an epic, immersive, end-of-the-world romance, is BB’s first work of fiction. Or at least, that’s what she thought when she wrote it in 2019. Then 2020 hit and all of her dystopian plot points started coming true. Hopefully, her feel-good romantic comedy GROUP THERAPY will fix everything.

Connect with BB:

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2U7mjc0
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Excerpt Reveal…In Silence She Screams by Amo Jones

In Silence She Screams, an intense dark romance with off-the-charts chemistry and captivating emotion from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Amo Jones, is out now, and we have an excerpt just for you!

Love will never die if it exists on the lips of death. I often thought about this while I was locked inside my Doll House in Patience. Groomed every second of every day, they made sure to cover all of the darkness lurking in my soul with the false guise of perfection. The soul is fickle. Naked to the public eye and only visible to the owner, a soul bleeds every time it’s put through pain. But when that’s hidden, it spreads. The trick is to protect it from reaching your brain.
It was too late for me.
Until I met them.
One was an Elite King.
One was a Brother of Kiznitch.
Both were liars.
I’m Lilith Patience, The Sorcerer of Death and daughter of one of the most feared organizations known to man. After being thrust into the notorious world of Midnight Mayhem, I found myself coiled around a past that I want to forget and a future that could destroy me. I love two men, and they love me as much as they love each other, but when the demons of my past tighten their grip around my throat, will I finally let them strip away the layers of perfection to get to my rotten, withered soul? Maybe.
Or maybe they’ll die trying.

Discover this deliciously dark world now!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3B8Hg82
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/InSilence
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Kobo: https://bit.ly/3A5XNZ1

Start the series today with In Peace Lies Havoc!
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Excerpt

He has all that pretty going for him on top of lips that looked pretty fucking good wrapped around my dick. Consider my attention piqued. I was bored with my usual

He has all that pretty going for him on top of lips that looked pretty fucking good wrapped around my dick. Consider my attention piqued. I was bored with my usual fucking months ago. 

I wrap my hand around his chin, directing his eyes up to mine. He doesn’t flinch, completely unfazed. He’s either seen some shit or he’s crazy as fuck. Both work for me. My fingers find their way to the back of his tatted-up neck and over the collar of his shirt. 

I squeeze. “You think you’re up for it?”

I watch as something passes over his eyes. I expected him to be confused because that was my intention, but instead I got intrigue? Fear? No. What I got was undiluted mischief.

“I know I am.”

He leans forward, that smirk still on his face. It’s not until his lips touch mine that I realize we’re still standing in the fucking lobby and I need to be on my bike for the triple ring of death. His tongue slips out and swipes my bottom lip. That was pretty much the stupidest shit he’s ever done because now I fucking want him. You can suck my dick and mean jack shit to me. I can not want you but still enjoy seeing my cock choke you to the brink of death.

“What are you thinking?”

Eli’s eyes flick over my shoulder, and I don’t have to see her to know that she’s there. Since my eyes first landed on Lilith, she has let out a kind of frequency that my body is annoyingly attune to.

“Thinking why not make it a party?”


Add In Silence She Screams to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3D7z5te

Meet Amo Jones
Amo Jones is a USA Today & Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author whose books have been translated in multiple countries.

She resides in the tropics of Australia with her family, though she’s a born and bred Kiwi who more often than not, misses New Zealand.

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Excerpt Reveal…Kiss and Don’t Tell by Meghan Quinn

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KISS AND DON’T TELL by Meghan Quinn

Release Date: September 21st

PREORDER IS AVAILABLE!!!

Amazon: http://mybook.to/KissandDontTell

Audio, Releasing 9/22: https://adbl.co/3BJqaxk

Add to Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58637781-kiss-and-don-t-tell

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EXCERPT:

I can’t seem to keep my hands off her. No matter what I try, I’m drawn to her. My hands need to stroke her. I need that connection.

And while we were in the gym, there was a hell of a lot more I wanted to do with her, and it didn’t involve lifting weights. I wanted to lie down across the bench and pin her there while I found out what her lips tasted like. Push her up against the mirror and watch her face as I slowly peeled down her bike shorts to expose that beautiful ass of hers. I wanted to make her know what it feels like to be with a real man. A man who would take care of her.

My will is slipping with her. I can feel it, especially the frustration I felt when she suggested asking one of the other guys to take her into town.

Screw that.

I would’ve been pissed.

She thinks she’s taking up too much of my time, when really, I want more of hers. And I want to be the one who shows her the town of Banff. I want to see her face light up when she takes in the picturesque views. Not Eli . . . because I know that’s who would probably take her if she asked.

Dressed in a pair of navy-blue chino shorts and a simple white T-shirt, I head down the hallway, slipping past her door and into the main living space. The boys are gathered at the table, plates of eggs in front of them, Stephan at the helm in the kitchen.

The chatter at the table slowly dies out as I walk by them, and I know I’m about to get shit because normally I wouldn’t be dressed like this. If Winnie weren’t here, we’d all be in a pair of athletic shorts and no shirt, but that’s not the case.

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Blurb:

Five hockey players, a cabin in the woods . . . and little old me, Winnie Berlin.

Sounds like the start of a fantasy, right? But it’s not. It’s my reality.

It all started when I got lost in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. A wicked thunderstorm sent my car mud sliding into a ditch and for a girl whose survival skills involve finding the nearest Starbucks, I was in deep trouble.

Forced to abandon my car in search of help, I stumbled upon a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Soaking wet, irritated, and in desperate need of a hot shower, I knocked on the door for help only to be greeted by five boisterous, burly, and insanely attractive men.

Not just men.

Professional hockey players.

I hit the motherload of fantasies, right? Wrong.

Because as it turns out, one of them is my ex-boyfriend’s half-brother. And when I end up crashing in their spare bedroom for the night, things take a very unexpected turn.

I’m not sure any amount of survival skills can protect my heart from Vancouver Agitators star goalie, Pacey Lawes. But as long as we kiss and don’t tell, maybe everything will be okay . . .

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

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Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

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Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LitE4x