Stealing Home by Nicole Williams….Excerpt Reveal


Stealing Home Excerpt.png

 

Coming July 10th

 

Pre-order exclusively on iBooks HERE

 

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

 

goodreads-badge.png

 

Stealing Home-5.jpg

 

AP new - synopsis.jpg

 

Being the only woman working for a professional baseball team isn’t easy. As the San Diego Shock’s newest athletic trainer, Allie knows all about long hours, endless travel, and warding off players’ advances. Given she’s already the subject of a handful of rumors about how “lucky” she was to have earned such a coveted position, she can’t so much as flutter an eyelash a player’s way if she wants to be taken seriously.

 

But number eleven is doing more than fluttering eyelashes Allie’s way. Far more. Luke Archer is at the top of his game and doesn’t let the fear of striking out keep him from swinging. This is a motto he applies both on and off the field, but Allie appears immune, seeming to view Luke as nothing more than caution tape on legs.

 

He’s a player, and in Allie’s experience, they’re all the same. She won’t risk her job or her heart to another one, no matter how different this one claims to be. But as Allie gets to know him, she discovers the number eleven the public thinks they know is very different from the real Luke Archer. He seems too good to be true.

 

And maybe he is.

 

Allie will have to confront the stories attached to a player of Luke Archer’s stature and decide who she’ll put her faith in—The man she’s falling for? Or the rumors?

 

AP new - excerpt.jpg

 

CHAPTER ONE

Working for a professional baseball team was going to be the end of my love life. The past two years confirmed that theory, as had the last text I’d received from my latest ex-boyfriend.

           Half of the year on the road added to another half of the year working grueling hours that rivaled a doctor’s first year of residency equaled a whole lot of no free time to fill with a social agenda. Since being hired on by the San Diego Shock this season and the San Francisco Kings the year before that, the longest relationship I’d maintained spanned eight weeks.

           This last one had barely cleared the four-week mark.

My lifestyle was costly, but it was worth it. Baseball was in my blood, and sports medicine was in my heart.

           I’d grown up in a small Midwest town where people still got together for potlucks and everyone from the town hermit to the mayor attended a funeral. Where the only place you were expected to be after church on a Sunday was stretched out on the bleachers around the baseball field. It didn’t matter if it was a T-ball game or the high school championships—the bleachers were always packed.

Baseball was a religion where I grew up—it was stitched into the fibers of my life—so it was no surprise when I ended up with a baseball player. No, the surprise came after I’d followed him to college and found him in bed with someone else.

           It had taken the wind right out of me, along with my tendency to trust first and doubt after. Ben had been sleeping around for a while by the time I found out—friends had known and said nothing—and that was the day I made a promise to myself to never let another guy hurt me as he had, to never be made a fool of like that.

After changing schools mid-year, I started studying sports medicine and never looked back. Or at least not often. I only looked back when I found myself feeling something similar to what I’d felt for Ben. The relationship never lasted long after that.

           As evidenced by my newest failed relationship.

           “Whose ass do I need to kick, Doc?”

           Dropping my phone into my lap, I looked across the aisle to see who was sliding into the row across from me.

Luke Archer.

Known to fans as the best hitter on the Shock, if not in all of pro baseball. Known to women for his good looks and up-to-no-good smile. Known to Cosmo magazine as being voted the Finest Ass in professional baseball. And known by the athletic training staff as a well-rounded pain in our asses.

           Not because he thought he knew better or was yet another prima donna—which the sport had no shortage of—but because he held to the old-school code of taking care of an injury by “walking it off.” If that didn’t work, then we could usually convince him to pop one or two pain relievers after the game, and sometimes, if he was feeling especially accommodating, he’d accept a bag of ice.

           Luke Archer was the real man of steel, and no one to date had managed to convince him he was also made of those injury-prone materials known as flesh and blood.

           “Doc?” Archer’s voice broke through my haze of thoughts. “Just give me his name and I’ll take care of it.”

The rest of the team and staff were shuffling down the aisle between us to find their seats on the team jet, but his stare aimed my way felt unyielding.

           “What makes you think anyone’s ass deserves a kicking?” I asked.

I returned a high-five as Reynolds passed by. He’d twisted his ankle in the game earlier today, and I’d been the first on the field to get him taken care of. I’d been the last one out of the locker room to finish getting him taken care of too. As a noob, I had to work twice as hard. As a woman, I had to work ten times as hard.

           “I have three younger sisters. I have more experience than most with guys deserving ass kickings.”

           The last of the guys wandered by us. Without the break of their bodies coming between us, Archer’s stare became too intense. His eyes seemed capable of pinning me to the back of the seat.

           The head athletic trainer, Dax Shepherd, attended to the “money” players—the ones like Archer, who brought fans to the stadium and were a large part of the Shock’s impressive win-to-loss ratio. Up until this very moment, I didn’t know Luke Archer was aware of my existence on this team or the planet.

           “You really have three younger sisters?” I asked.

Unlike most of the female populace, I didn’t know every last fact about Luke Archer. The news about his parents had made headlines a few years back, and that was all I knew about his personal life.

           “I really do. And I talk to or text all of them every day.”

           “Plus you kick asses for them.”

           Archer’s hazel eyes lightened. “Plus that.” He twisted in his seat so he was almost facing me, his eyes dropping to the phone in my lap. “So? No one messes with my sisters. And no one messes with my team.”

           My forehead creased. “I’m not one of your teammates.”

           “You’re a part of my team. Just because you don’t play the field or swing a bat doesn’t mean you’re not. You keep us healthy and strong out there.” When I cocked an eyebrow, he added, “And when we get injured, you make sure we get fixed up quickly so we can get back to doing what we love. You’re every bit as vital to this team as . . .” He glanced up and down the aisle like he was looking for someone to fill in the blank with.

           “As Luke Archer?” I completed for him.

           His answer to that was a lifting of his eyes. “I’m one man who can swing one bat.”

           “One bat really, really hard. And very, very exactly,” I interjected.

           He continued, “You make sure twenty-five men can keep swinging their own bats.”

           “Well, there’s me, the two other athletic trainers, the physical therapist, the personal trainers, and the actual doctor who help out with that too. I can’t take all of the credit.”

           “Come on. You work twice as hard as any of them, so you should at least take most of the credit.” When his phone started chiming in his slacks’ pocket, he pulled it out, turned it off, and hid it back in his pocket.

           “And since the closest Shepherd and Coach Beckett have let me get to you is handing out a water bottle, how would you know that?”

           He pointed at his eyes. “I’ve got two of these and use them for observation on occasion.”

           “When they’re not searching for your next conquest?” I gave an internal groan the moment after I’d voiced something that should have stayed unsaid.

           My relationships with the players had always been professional and rarely, if ever, delved into the realm of personal information. If it didn’t have to do with preventing or tending to injuries, I didn’t bring it up.

           Until now. When I’d just suggested that Luke Archer had a reputation in every city the Shock had visited, every hotel they’d stayed in. Perfect way for my first real conversation with the star player of the team, and the whole of professional baseball, to go.

           Archer stayed quiet, studying me with that tipped smile he was famous for.

           “You know my opinion on rumors?” he said a minute later.

           I was capable of nothing more than shaking my head.

           “That they’re started by haters. Spread by fools. And accepted by idiots.”

           My head tipped. “Are you calling me an idiot?”

           His eyes flashed. “Are you calling me a manwhore?”

           I studied him lounging in his seat with his legs kicked out in front of him, his wide chest stretching beneath his suit jacket, his long arms resting on the armrests.. His body was enough to weaken the resolve of someone as jaded to player players as I was, but his face didn’t play second-string.

           Brown hair lightened by the sun, smooth skin darkened by it, a strong jaw, and hazel eyes that trended more toward the green end of the spectrum; Luke Archer was quite possibly the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on. According to Sports Anonymous’s random poll of five thousand women, he was the best-looking guy in professional sports today. The other few billion women on the planet would have agreed with that title, I assumed.

           “Do you always take so long to answer a question?” Archer motioned at me, waiting.

           “No,” I said, recalling the last question he’d asked me. Snap out of it. “I don’t think that you’re a  . . . manwhore,” I whispered the last part.

I’d had enough experience with the rumor mill to be a sympathetic party to the target of so many. Being one of the first and only female athletic trainers in professional sports had opened me up to a hundred rumors when I’d been hired. All versions of them had to do with me fucking my way into the position.

           “Good.” Archer nodded, seeming satisfied. “Because you certainly don’t seem like an idiot.”

           “Thanks?”

           He nodded again. “Welcome.”

           That was when the pilot’s voice echoed through the team jet, running through his usual spiel. We were leaving Tampa and heading up to Chicago. Now that the season was in full swing, I lost track of the cities we were leaving and the ones we were heading toward. All of my attention was focused on the players and getting them through the season as injury-free as possible.

           “I’m still waiting for that name, Doc.” Archer clicked his seat belt into place when one of the attendants stopped beside him, looking ready to strap it into place for him.

           When she saw mine unfastened, all I got was a lifted brow and a pointed finger before she moved on to the next aisle.

           “Oh, it’s okay. He’s not worth it.” I lifted my phone toward him before dropping it in the duffel bag I kept on hand at all times. Bandages, tape, painkillers, and a small cooler of ice packs were always at the ready whenever I was with the team. “Any guy who breaks up with someone via text message isn’t worth much.”

           “Really? Over text?” Archer’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the reason the ass-kicking was invented. For those types of guys.”

           I shrugged as the plane started to taxi down the runway, the interior lights dimming. “We haven’t even been together a month. Truthfully, it lasted longer than I thought it would. This kind of lifestyle”—I twirled my finger around the airplane—“makes it difficult to sustain a long-term relationship.”

           “That’s why I’m not a fan of them.”

           “Long-term relationships?”

           Any kind of relationship,” he said.

           I nodded my understanding. The players had it worse than the team staff. At least in terms of having to question if a person was into them for who they were or because of their job, and the fame and money that came with it.

           “I’m either practicing for a game, playing a game, recovering from a game, or fueling up and resting for a game. There’s not time for much else,” he said.

           Leaning into my armrest, I realized how strange it was to be having such an easy conversation with Luke Archer. It felt natural, not forced. Most of the players would take a moment to chat with me about something game-related, but I was still the new kid on the block. I felt like I had to pass some test before they’d accept me as a member of the team.

           Archer didn’t seem to be of the same mind though.

           “Yeah, I know. It’s like you need to find someone who can just travel with you wherever you go, right?” I said, thinking how much easier it would to be in a relationship with someone I got to see on a daily basis without two computer screens.

           “Exactly. Someone who understands the lifestyle. Appreciates the sacrifices you have to make.”

My head fell back into the headrest from the inertia of takeoff, but I could still feel Archer’s eyes on me. “Someone who understands that the job comes first. Someone who doesn’t get insecure or jealous or bent out of shape that they get the few precious minutes in between the job.”

           When my head turned toward him again, I found Luke Archer staring at me with a kind of intensity I hadn’t seen aimed my way in a long time. My breath caught, and even though the strength of his stare threatened to overwhelm me, I held his gaze.

           “Someone who understands the game. The commitment. The time. The sacrifice. Someone who’s as committed to it as you are.” One corner of his mouth twitched, carving a dimple into his cheek. “It’s not like you could ever expect to find a person like that sitting in the row across the aisle from you, right?”

 

 

AP new -about the author.jpg

 

Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

 

Website   Facebook  Twitter  Blog  Instagram

 

ArdentProse_LogoMain.jpg

 

 

 

 

Love Tap by M.N. Forgy….Excerpt Reveal

love tap excerpt reveal [69801]

Excerpt

Prologue

Sitting at my desk I chew on the end of my pen waiting for Professor Kelly to finish writing on the whiteboard. This class always drags and it being at noon I’m always hungry half way through.

Bored I trace the words stenciled into the top of my desk with my index finger.

‘Lick it before you stick it.’

Where do people even come up with this stuff?

“I love how her hand erases half of what she writes as she moves across the board,” Keegan whispers next to me, bringing my attention from my tracing to Professor Kelly. Sure enough, the sentence on the left is half wiped off as she continues to write along the board.

Keegan is the only person I talk to here at UCLA. I don’t know if I would call her a friend, more of a roommate, and study partner. College isn’t any different than high school and I’d rather stay to myself.  If you’re making friends then you’re a part of the drama. Who is screwing who, drugs, and mean girls, it’s a vicious circle.

Keegan and I click because she’s different. She has tattoos covering her arms and hands, and collects everything unicorn. Not to mention I love her outlook on life. She could care less what people think of her. She’s carefree and it scares people.

“Jacki, do you have your piece ready?” Professor Kelly asks.

Jacki who sits in front of me clears her throat, sitting straight in her seat.

“I’m just about done. I’m waiting for the owner of the restaurant to call me back,” Jacki replies.

I’m majoring in journalism. I figured if I can’t do what I love, I’ll do what comes next. Writing about it.

“Tatum, what about you?” I freeze.

“Yes, my piece is done,” I lie. I haven’t even started. Professor Kelly smiles at me, knowing I wouldn’t disappoint. Little does she know every piece I give her is last minute.

Jacki turns in her seat and eyes me with her fake green contacts. Here she goes. For some reason I am always the target of her bullying. I think it’s because a guy she was interested in sat next to me two classes ago. After ignoring him, he got the hint and moved back to the front of the class.

Either way, Jacki’s antics get old. I usually just ignore her. What is sad is she used to be friendly. Then she started sleeping with everyone and her ego became as big as the hole between her legs.

“Why do you dress like trash? It’s like, an embarrassment to the graduating class.” Her friends laugh and she smiles proud of herself.

“Ignore them,” Keegan mutters.

 I always do.

Professor Kelly sits at her desk to work through the articles for the school paper, wasting the last ten minutes of class. Kicking my backpack out from under my seat I pull out my book and start to get lost in the pages of dragons and zombies.

“You know nobody has called me back?” Keegan interrupts my reading.

“All those applications, and not one news station has called. I should just give up, maybe I can be a maid,” she continues, and I know she’s about to go on her rant. I should give up reading, when she gets like this there’s no stopping her. Not one to give up, I narrow my brows to indicate I’m in some deep reading. “Ooh, I could be a sex maid. You know, the ones where I pretend to clean your house but then we have sex?”

I laugh, giving up on trying to read my book and close it.

“Yes, I know the kind.  But don’t give up, the right job will call you back. Besides, you hate giving head and I’m pretty sure that will be a requirement when you’re a sex maid.”

“Shit, you’re right.” She sags in her seat like I just ruined her life goals.

“Speaking of shit, did you buy that bag from someone homeless?” Jacki flips her blonde hair over her shoulder as she eavesdrops.  “I bet your mother is embarrassed to have you as a daughter, I mean, did you get your hair done by a hobo?” She continues to insult.

Something inside of me I thought was dead ignites, swimming through my veins like a wild fire as I pin Jacki with a stare.

“You should probably shut your mouth while you’re ahead,” I warn. Keegan looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. I’ve never reacted to Jacki’s insults. Today, though… I’ve had enough.

“Aww, did I hit a nerve?” Jacki laughs. Closing my eyes I try to push through the violence wanting to be released. “Do you even have a mother, or did she just give up when she had you?” She throws her head back and laughs, revealing the trashy pink lipstick that’s smeared on her teeth.

Anger thrusts through my arms and my hands curl into fists. I’m going to lose it. I’m going to lose my temper and become irate, right here.

“I need to get out of here.” I shove my book in my bag and stand, trying to leave before something horrible surfaces. I have been able to overlook anything and everything that triggers my temper, but my mom… that is one I clearly can’t overcome.

“Aw look, you made her leave.” One of Jacki’s friends taunts. I don’t even remember her name. They all sound alike anyway. Jacki, Judy, Janet.

“Good, maybe she can run back to her momma for some fashion advice,” Jacki continues.

I stall staring at the double doors that lead out of the auditorium.

Just leave. Keep going.

Closing my eyes, something I’ve suppressed for years breaks through it’s cage slamming full force in my chest.

I drop my book bag, and turn on my heel.

“What’d you say?”

Sitting sideways in her seat, tapping her desk with a pencil, Jacki giggles.

“You heard me, you’re a—“

I don’t let her finish. I leap over her friend and grab Jacki by the throat, pulling her from her seat. She screams, her fake blonde hair flailing everywhere as I drag her across the desks to the aisle.

The class screams with excitement as I drop Jacki like the sack of shit she is. God I feel fantastic! Like a tiger at the zoo finally being released into the wild.

I feel… alive. Day after day, I have sat in a chair behind a desk living a mundane boring life. Giving up on family, dreams, and most importantly, myself.

Jacki stares back at me with mascara smeared eyes, the look of fear fueling me to continue. I smile, and strike her in the face, throwing her back on the stairs.

But this, the violence, it’s what I long for.

She wails, cupping her nose. “You crazy bitch!”

Keegan jumps to her feet in her seat looking over Jacki laying in the aisle before looking up at me. “Holy shit!”

“What is going on?” Professor Kelly jumps from her desk making her way up the stairs.

“Run!” Keegan points at the double doors smiling just as big as I am.

Stepping over Jacki, I grab my bag but stop as I look at Jacki who is only a foot from me.

“Remember that next time you want to bully someone. Grow up.” I stand upright, shuffling my bag on my back, and I sprint out of class.

Quickly, I make it to my dorm room and throw what I can into bags. Drawers left on the floor and my mattress overturned, I make a mess of the room. Keegan is going to kill me when she gets back. Swiping my phone off the shelf where we keep the Ramen noodles, a pair of scissors fall to the floor nearly spearing me in the foot and landing on a magazine. I stare at the beautiful blonde on the front of the cover. I took this magazine into the mall months ago trying to imitate the model’s makeup. Hundreds of dollars later and I didn’t feel any prettier. I tried to fit into the LA lifestyle, I really tried but I’m just different. I don’t care about fashion, or chick flicks, or the so called normal shit that girls my age should like. If LA can’t turn me into a prima donna, then nobody can.

I glance up finding Keegan’s giant mirror with unicorn and mermaid stickers plastered all over it, my reflection looking back at me. My painted eyes and fake blush looking ridiculous on me.

Grabbing a couple of Kleenex I rub at my face, pressing as hard as I can to rub the shit off my eyelids and cheeks until my skin is near raw.

I’m done pretending.

Dropping the makeup smeared tissues to the floor I grab my bags and glance at the trashed room one last time.

My heart beats wildly as I flush my journalism career down the drain.

This isn’t what I wanted anyway.

I don’t want to report about the best fighters in the world.

I want to be one.

love tap teaser [69803]

 

Meet Tatum and Camden in this

second chance fighter Romance!

Love Tap releases on July 6th!

Add it to your TBR: http://bit.ly/GoodreadsLoveTap

love tap coming soon [69802]

love tap cover [69804]

Blurb

All I ever wanted was to be a female fighter.

It was in my blood to smack people around.

Some girls wore pink dresses and makeup, I wore sneakers and bruises.

I was a loner, stuck to myself because I was different, until Camden Steel moved next door.

I punched him in the mouth, and he saw me through rose colored glasses from that day on.

I had everything I ever wanted.

The boy next door, inspiring career… until I didn’t.

He hates me. I deserve that.

They say you have to fight for what you want… What they don’t tell you… is it’ll cost you more than you’re willing to give to reach the top.

kive tap teaser [69805]

About the Author

m.n. forgy bio [730210]

M.N. Forgy was raised in Missouri where she still lives with her family. She’s a soccer mom by day and a saucy writer by night. M.N. Forgy started writing at a young age but never took it seriously until years later, as a stay-at-home mom, she opened her laptop and started writing again. As a role model for her children, she felt she couldn’t live with the “what if” anymore and finally took a chance on her character’s story. So, with her glass of wine in hand and a stray Barbie sharing her seat, she continues to create and please her fans.

Stalk Her:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Filthy English by Ilsa Madden-Mills…Excerpt Reveal

filthy english excerpt reveal

Chapter 1

Remi

Plain and simple, this night sucked.

Sadly, it was my honeymoon.

I sighed heavily and gazed around Masquerade, an intimately lit London nightclub where everyone wore black domino masks, some elaborate and some plain, to hide their identity. A few die-hards even sported dark clothing with long, loose cloaks. Not me though. I’d gone modern with a slinky little number and three-inch heels, putting my height at nearly six feet. Yep, I’m the giant in the blue dress, towering over every girl and some guys at the bar.

My top teeth dug into my bottom lip as I gazed around the smoky club, my eyes bouncing off random faces. Even in a room full of party people, music, and strobe lights, I was lonely.

My groom was missing.

That’s right. Hartford Wilcox, Jr., aka Mr. Nice Guy at Whitman University in North Carolina, had jilted me two weeks before the big wedding day as we had dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, Mario’s.

And now here I was—on my honeymoon and getting trashed with my best friend Lulu who’d decided to skip her beach vacation and come with me at the last minute.

She poked me with her finger as we sat in front of the heavy wooden bar of the club. “Hey, Earth to Remi, get that glazed look out of your eyes and order a drink already. I’m thirsty.” She fluffed her pixie-cut pink hair and straightened her black tutu, eyes scoping out the club. “Dang, the men in here are hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch,” she said in her honeyed southern drawl.

I half-heartedly agreed, not really caring, more intent on scanning the bottles behind the bar. “I want tequila,” I murmured. “A whole bottle.”

Her face snapped back to me and her green eyes widened. “Uh-uh. No way. I know what happens when you drink that crap. You either eat a ton of tacos and puke, or you wrap yourself around some cocky bastard with a well-developed tush.”

True. I did love a tight muscular ass.

But I wouldn’t get one tonight.

A short laugh burst out of me, one of those I’m-miserable-but-pretending-to- be-okay-laughs that I’d been doing a lot of lately. For the past two weeks, I’d vacillated between a sobbing mess and an angry woman who became so incensed that “fuck” was the only word that seemed appropriate in any given situation. Going to the post office to mail he dumped me, but thank you anyway cards. Fuck. Going to the wedding venue and not getting the ten thousand dollar deposit back. Fuck. Realizing I was homeless fall semester—which was in two weeks—fuck. Listening to my mother tell me it was my fault. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The bartender delivered my bottle and poured me a shot. I sucked the tequila down while Lulu watched me warily. It tasted like bad decisions and gasoline, but tonight was about forgetting. The sooner the better.

A few minutes later, Lulu went out to dance with a British guy she’d been making eyes at. I sat glumly at the bar, fiddling with my diamond tennis bracelet, rubbing it like rosary beads. I needed to forget Hartford, and according to Lulu, that meant hooking up with someone.

Was she right?

Fate answered in the form of a beautiful man—and by beautiful I mean drop-dead sexy with a backside so delectable and muscular my mouth plopped open.

I snapped my lips shut and adjusted my velvet half-mask—the annoying feathery plumes on the sides kept sticking to my red lipstick—and turned ever so slightly to check him out, not wanting to appear obvious. He slid into the seat next to me, tall and broad with rippling shoulders and a massive frame.

I checked my appearance in a mirror behind the bar, mentally analyzing the odds of a girl like me snagging a hottie like him.

Although no one had ever called me beautiful, I did have two—okay, maybe three—things going for me in the looks department. My shiny, golden-brown hair that hung down in waves to my shoulders, my fluffy “pillow lips” as Lulu described them, and lastly, I had an itsy bitsy space between my two front teeth which were otherwise white and perfect. Lulu claimed the gap lent me an exotic look, like Madonna or Sookie Stackhouse. Whatever. I was a True Blood fan. I went with it.

He shifted on the stool, leaning closer to me. His cologne swirled in the air, the smell of expensive Scotch and musk mingling together to create a heady, slightly dangerous scent. I paused, goosebumps rising on my bare arms. The spicy whiff triggered a distant memory just out of reach.

As slyly as I could, I studied his profile from top to bottom. Like me he wore a black mask, although his was more masculine, not hiding his chiseled, movie star jawline. His lips were carnal and luscious, the bottom more plump than the top with a slight indentation in the middle. As I watched, his tongue swept out and caressed it, his top teeth biting it as if he were deep in thought. He raked a hand through his dark, longish messy hair, held it suspended above his head for a few seconds and then released it, letting it swish back into its tousled yet perfect place.

I tore my eyes away.

Something about him sent loud warning bells ringing in every atom of my body.

Danger, danger. Don’t touch that.

But my gaze would not be denied as I took in the tight black shirt and sculpted chest that was obviously used to the inside of a gym, right down to an arm that looked like it could snap a board in half—or me.

Nice biceps, Mr. Beautiful.

The pièce de résistance was the vivid blue and orange dragonfly tattoo displayed on his left arm. It was larger than my hand and took up most of his bicep. My eyes traced the contours of the design from the papery wings to the multi-faceted eyes. A bold black color outlined the insect, giving it a masculine feel.

Gorgeous.

True Religion jeans stretched down long legs and ended in a pair of black Converse without socks, giving him a boyish quality that was in direct contrast to the crazy-sexy-bad-boy vibe he had going on.

Him tonight?

Maybe. He was the polar opposite of Hartford who was blond, lean, and tattoo-free.

I nibbled on my fingernail. How do I get him to notice little ol’ me?

Just then a redhead with fluffy Farrah Fawcett hair strode up to his stool, bold as brass, wearing a tight, white mini-skirt that barely covered her booty. She brought with her the smell of sweet, cloying perfume, the kind I always got spritzed with at the mall.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, casually rubbed her finger down his arm and struck up a conversation. Her fake, black lashes—which she’d somehow managed to get outside the eyeholes of her mask—batted. She puffed out her well-developed chest.

He smiled back at her with a wicked grin, his relaxed body language telling me he was confident when it came to women. She whispered in his ear, boobs right in his face, but whatever he said back wasn’t what she wanted to hear because a few ticks later, she crossed her arms, glared at me, and stalked away.

I blinked. What had I done?

Then he turned and pointed his devastating smile at me.

Shit, he’d made eye contact—as much as you could with a claustrophobic mask on.

But wait…

Was he crazy?

Because if he’d turned down her flirtation, I didn’t have a shot.

I didn’t know how to do the fingers-tip-toeing-up-his-arm-thing and sexy hair flicking. I didn’t know a thing about applying fake eyelashes. I didn’t know how to make my breasts sit up that high. I looked away from him and took another shot, feeling anxious and strangely off-kilter.

Mr. Beautiful ordered a drink from the bartender, his British accent smooth as silk as it washed over me. I froze. I almost knew that voice—deep with soft rounded vowels that made you tingle in your lady parts.

What was it about this guy that had me all jacked up and hot for him?

Hello, tequila, my inner voice said. But it was more than that.

Getting brave, I pivoted on my barstool, and found Mr. Beautiful’s eyes on me once more, searching my face. As if he too recognized the pull between us.

My heart played hopscotch, jumping against my chest. My skin prickled. I shivered.

Did I know him?

It clicked.

Dax Blay?

It was his voice, the same deep quality, the kind of voice that made you want to hop into his bed and ride him like a cowgirl.

My breath hitched, and I swallowed down the emotion that zipped up my spine whenever I thought of him. He was my one mistake, the time I’d tossed inhibitions and carefully laid plans aside and went with my instincts, only to have them tossed back in my face.

But the man next to me wasn’t Dax. Thank God.

Last spring at the campus-wide end of the year fraternity party with Hartford, I’d seen Dax, and he’d had shorter hair, like always, and zero tattoos. Yeah. No way.

Plus, last I heard, he was in Raleigh where his father lived.

Yet…

Dax was British. He could have family here. Maybe he got a tattoo?

Nah. I mean, what were the odds of us both being at the same club on the same night in a country where neither of us lived?

I tore my eyes off Mr. Beautiful and waved at a bartender for more limes, but somehow my tennis bracelet snagged on the bodice of my dress, leaving my wrist dangling like a wet dishrag in a most inappropriate place.

I wiggled my arm.

Jiggled it.

Even went so far as to jerk, but it wouldn’t separate.

Sweat popped out on my forehead. Holding my breath, I twisted and tugged the bracelet, forcing the delicate material in my bodice to stretch beyond normal limits.

“Well, hell,” I breathed, pausing to assess.

Skin-tight with a plunging neckline, the dress was mostly a stretchy fabric held together by sequined straps and a zipper on the side. Slated as part of my honeymoon wardrobe, it was a Tory Burch and had cost four hundred dollars, the most I’d ever paid for a fun outfit, and no way did I want to damage it. I might have to return it to rent an apartment at Whitman.

Lulu. I needed Lulu. She was a whiz with wardrobe malfunctions.

I spun around on the barstool and used my free hand to wave at her, but she was slinging herself around dancing, having a great time and completely oblivious. I resorted to flapping both hands at her, one high and one low. Several people waved back with baffled expressions, but Lulu didn’t notice. Dammit.

I groaned and slumped down in my seat, ready to scream. Now what? Go to the bathroom and repair it there? Good plan.

But the club tilted when I stood, the strobe lights making me squint as they flashed in my face. I wobbled in my leopard print heels—that Lulu had insisted I wear—and grabbed the stool to keep my balance. `

I sucked in a breath to gather myself, but I couldn’t think straight. The room spun, and I was suddenly queasy, and why did I slam all that tequila, and oh my god, my wrist is currently attached to my tit like a T. rex arm.

I had to get out of here before someone noticed what an idiot I was.

Trying to be stealth like, I reached across the bar to get my beaded clutch, but because it was my left hand and not my right that I used most of the time, I got off balance and stumbled—and my ankle folded in on itself. I yelped as my shoe catapulted off my foot and vaulted off toward the dance floor, while I fell forward, straight into Mr. Beautiful’s lap.

Filthy English (unedited excerpt)

Copyright Ilsa Madden-Mills
filthy english coming soon

The British are HERE!  

Are you ready for Filthy English?

Add to your TBR for a July 11th release here: http://bit.ly/28MpTlk

filthy english cover

Blurb

A smokin’ hot British player…

A jilted girl…

One night of mistaken identity…

Two weeks before her wedding, Remi Montague’s fiancé drops her faster than a drunken sorority girl in stilettos. Armed with her best friend and a bottle of tequila, she hops a plane to London to drown her sorrows before fall semester begins at Whitman University.

She didn’t plan on attending a masquerade party.

She sure didn’t plan on waking up next to the British bad boy who broke her heart three years ago—the devastatingly handsome and naked Dax Blay. Furthermore, she has no clue how they acquired matching tattoos.

Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.

But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…

One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.

*A modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet*

**no one dies in the writing of this novel**

 

attractive aroused girl monochrome image with noise effect

 

ilsa madden bioAbout the Author

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She’s addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.

She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.

When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

 

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

You can stalk her on her website as well as get signed books: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorilsamaddenmills?pnref=lhc

IG: https://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/

Twitter: @ilsamaddenmills

 

Ilsa Madden-Mills’ other books:

VERY BAD THINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1RH9CJY

iBooks: http://apple.co/1gl5Yaj

BN: http://bit.ly/1bOyH2g

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1D0BVw5

VERY WICKED BEGINNINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1K5NvX8

VERY WICKED THINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1NvRIr5

iBooks: http://apple.co/1mVS3Wo

BN: http://bit.ly/1mT1cDB

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1C9EZt3

VERY TWISTED THINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1cvvkkh

iBooks: http://apple.co/1eN7Clh

BN: http://bit.ly/1KK0ljh

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1BHcK4R

 

Everything by Erin Noelle….Excerpt Reveal

everything excerpt reveal

Everything is the story every Book Boyfriend fan has been
waiting for!
Pre­order your copy at the following retailers:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Sd9zD2
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1UF88TP
Add Everything to your TBR for a June 23rd release here:
http://bit.ly/24M8UBF

everything coming soon

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00068]

Blurb

Music was was part of my DNA, pumping hard through my veins, resonating deep
within my bones. Not surprising, considering my dad was a global rock star and
my mom had the voice of a fallen angel.
With my twin sister by my side in our indie­rock duo, Singed Wings, we were
ready to finally see our name in lights when we opened for the hottest act to sell
out stadiums – Jobu’s Rum Summer Reunion Tour.
The life I’d always wanted was finally within my reach. All I had left to do was
finish out my last semester of high school.
But there was one problem: Ms. Sloan, the new art history teacher.
The same Ms. Sloan I’d met as Belle, the sexy little pixie who’d captivated me at a
New Year’s Eve concert last year.
The same Ms. Sloan who’d owned nearly every one of my thoughts since that
night.

The same Ms. Sloan whose class I was in danger of failing.
With my dream gig dangling just on the other side of that cap and gown, all of my
focus should’ve been on my school work and improving my music as I prepared
for my big shot to rock the world…
But I never expected her to rock mine first… and to change everything.
Everything is a standalone novel. It is a spin­off from the Book Boyfriend Series.

everything teaser

Excerpt

I leaned down to her level then skimmed the tip of my nose along her jawline,
inhaling her intoxicating scent. “But you are out with him? Like together, on a
date?”
With a soft moan, her head lolled to the side, granting me access to the smooth,
creamy skin of her neck. “Not together,” she rasped, her eyelids fluttering closed.
“Friends… we’re just friends. I promise.”
Her words immediately erased most of the anger jetting through my veins. I still
wasn’t happy she was out with him, because I knew damned well Mr. Carroll
wasn’t interested in being “just friends.” But that was his fucking problem.
“And us?” I asked, as my mouth grazed from her throat to her hairline. “Are we
just friends too, beautiful Belle?”
“We’re not friends,” she hissed when I caught her earlobe between my teeth and
flicked my tongue over it. “And we shouldn’t… we can’t do this again. I’m your
teacher.”
She made no attempt to open her eyes or to move away despite her claim, and I had
no intention of stopping until she explicitly told me to. As she fought her own inner
battle of right versus wrong, mind against body, I planned on showing her every
reason we absolutely should and could do it again. And again and again.
“Indeed you are, Ms. Sloan,” I murmured against her delicate flesh, ghosting kisses
from her ear to her barely­parted lips. “But right now, I think it’s time you learn a
little lesson of your own.”
My mouth slammed down on hers, swallowing whatever her response was going to
be. The lesson I had in mind involved a lot of doing, and not much talking. The
question and answer portion came after the hands­on demonstration.
I swept my tongue across her lips, and she opened up for me without any
resistance. My dick throbbed and twitched against my zipper as her hands fisted
my shirt and tugged me closer. Our tongues melted together, the intensity of the
kiss building deeper and deeper until I had to break free.
“Everett,” she breathed, reaching for me as I drew back. God, the sound of my
name on her lips, full of desperate need, was like a direct hit of lightning between
my legs. Instantly, I was rock­fucking­hard.
Belle Sloan awakened the untamed, possessive animal that lurked inside me. One I
never knew existed before her. And there was no way of putting him back in his
cage now.

About the Author

erin noelle

 

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband, two daughters,
and three fur babies. When she’s not reading or writing romance novels, she enjoys
winning at cards and board games, awkward people­watching in public places, and
doing cartwheels at the most random times. She’s usually barefoot, is never
without a song in her head, and currently holds the title of World’s Best
Procrastinator.
Her titles published include the Book Boyfriend Series, Dusk ‘Til Dawn Series,
Luminous Duet, Fire on the Mountain series, and numerous standalone books that
range from New Adult to Contemporary romance. Her books have been a part of
the USA Today Bestselling list as well as the Amazon and Barnes & Noble overall
Top 100. You can follow her on Facebook @ www.facebook.com/erin.noelle.98,
her blog @ www.erinnoelleauthor.com, on Twitter @authorenoelle, and on
Instagram @erinnoelleauthor.
​Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Gun Shy by Lili St Germain…Excerpt Reveal

gun shy excerpt [53937]

Excerpt

Cassie

I brew coffee downstairs, being careful not to make too much noise. He hates it when I’m loud. He likes to wake up gradually. I trudge upstairs, my bare feet freezing on the threadbare carpet.

I bring the coffee and I set it beside him. I pull one curtain open, just the way he likes it. It’s been snowing again. It’s so beautiful out there. So empty.

“Good morning,” he says. I turn away from the snow, my retinas pulsing and blind in the center of my vision from the stark white burst of light outside.

Sometimes, if I can get on his good side when he first wakes up, he’ll be nice to me for the rest of the day. Lately that happens less and less, but I still try.

“Sleep well?” he asks, sipping his coffee. He hands it to me and I take a sip. I don’t like coffee the way he has it, but he insists on sharing with me, probably to ensure I don’t poison him. He’s a smart man. Thinks of everything.

I ache between my thighs. I’m reminded of the night before. Of the guy who crept into my bedroom and fucked me until I hurt.

“Like the dead,” I reply. I had to check and make sure he was in a deep sleep before I showered the evidence away last night. I couldn’t risk him waking up and hearing me.

He smiles lazily, his eyes still puffy from sleep. The smile that could dazzle the entire female population has a hard edge to it. “I can see the cogs turning in your brain, Cassandra. What are you daydreaming about?”

I sit on the edge of the bed. My legs are tired and my head hurts.

“I remembered what a sociopath is.”

“Oh, yeah?” He props himself up on one elbow, the coffee finished, the cup discarded somewhere on the dresser beside him. “Enlighten me.”

“Somebody who’s empty inside. Somebody who needs to take from everybody else to fill them up. Because they were born wrong. Because there’s nothing inside them.”

He smiles; his lazulite eyes crease up ever-so-slightly at the edges. I imagine how beautiful he would have looked as a young child; how his mother would have melted whenever he smiled up at her. Because his eyes deceive. They don’t look empty. They’re beautiful, full of the souls of everyone else he’s sucked dry and left in his quest to find that something, that perfect thing to fill him up.

I can see myself in his eyes. My soul. He’s taken it from me.

“Do you feel empty?” I whisper.

He rests a hand on my upper thigh, all trace of his smile gone as he matches his fingers to the bruises he left on me in the night, in the dark. “Not when I’m inside you.”

The man I’ve been fucking for the past year, or rather, the man who’s been fucking me — his eyes gleam in the harsh sunlight that casts a brightness over the bedroom, bathing it in some macabre stage lights that scream: Action! But this isn’t make-believe, and the curtains won’t fall at the end of our grotesque little act, and after we’re done here, I won’t be able to peel my mask off and toss it on the ground as I exit the stage.

I swallow thickly. I wish he’d get tired of me.

“I heard you in the shower last night,” he says, his fingers squeezing into my flesh. “After I left you, you thought you could just wash me off like nothing happened, huh?”

My cheeks burn as I try to twist away from him; He sits up in bed and reaches for my throat, crushing my windpipe as he pulls my face to his.

“You need to learn,” he says, “that I know everything about you, Cassie. I know what you think. I know where you are. I know where you’re going. I know more about you than you know about yourself, darlin’.

I choke.

“Say sorry,” he says, loosening his grip.

“I’m sorry!” I wheeze, my throat burning as tears stream down from my eyes.

“Not like that. Show me how sorry you are. Apologize.”

He pulls the covers back and fists a hand in my long hair, wrenching me down into his lap.

I do what I’m told. I show him just how sorry I am. I’m not sorry for washing him off me last night, though. I’m sorry that he ever came to this godforsaken town and ruined our lives.

gun shy teaser 1 [53939]

gun shy preorder [53938]

PRE-ORDER EXCLUSIVELY ON iBooks

iBooks:http://apple.co/1TjEHqn

Add to your TBR here: http://bit.ly/1O9Plbg

RELEASE DATE: June 27th, 2016

gun shy teaser [53941]

gun shy cover [927151]

Blurb

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?

In the middle of a fierce snowstorm in Gun Creek, Nevada, a teenage girl disappears without a trace.

The second girl in as many years.

Identical cases. Identical conditions. Only last time, the girl was found. Dead, floating face-down in the creek that feeds the town’s water supply.

The killer was never found.

As the small town mobilises and searches for newly vanished Jennifer Thomas, one suspect comes to the fore. But did he do it? Or is there something else at play? Something nobody could have anticipated?

For Jennifer’s classmate Cassie Carlino, the worst is yet to come. As she pins MISSING posters to store windows and joins the search, she begins to suspect that Jennifer’s disappearance might be much closer to her than she could have ever imagined.

gun shy teaser [927150]

About the Author

Lili Saint Germain

lili st germain [53942]

Lili writes dark, disturbing romance. Her #1 bestselling Gypsy Brothers series was created in a serial format – quick, intense episodes released frequently with some wicked cliffhangers. The Gypsy Brothers series focuses on a morally bankrupt biker gang and the girl who seeks her vengeance upon them. The Cartel series is a prequel trilogy of full-length novels that explores the beginnings of the club, to be released in 2015 by HarperCollins.

Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, good coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Pinterest.

She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.

 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest

 

Dark Mafia Prince by Annika Martin…Excerpt Reveal

ExcerptReveal-BANNER

We are thrilled to share an excerpt of Dark Mafia Prince by New York Times bestselling author, Annika Martin! Releases on June 28th!

DarkMafiaPrince-hires

Blurb:

Aleksio
Don’t look at me like that. So trusting.
Like you think I’m not a monster.
Like I won’t wrap your hair in my fist and bend you to my will.
Like I won’t sacrifice you, piece by piece, to save my brother.
I’m the most dangerous enemy you’ll ever have because every time you look at me, you see somebody good. That friend who died.
And when you look at me like that, I die again.

Mira
I spent years making myself invisible.
A good girl, apart from the noise.
Then you came back, beautiful and deadly in your Armani suit.
Don’t look at me like you still know me, you say.
But I remember your smile and those sunny days.
Before they lowered your small casket into the ground.
Before they told us the prince was dead.

 

Exclusive iBooks Pre-Order
Kindle, Kobo, Nook, or google play: Sign up for an alert when Dark Mafia Prince is available: http://eepurl.com/b45Hsn

Mafia-Prince-Promo

EXCERPT

The way he uses me is violent. Primitive. Demeaning. And all I can think is, don’t stop.

He warned me he was going to be rough. He warned me I’d feel alarmed when he shoved his cock all the way down my throat. I was ready for that.

I wasn’t ready for the names he would call me.

Or to be so wildly turned on by it all.

It’s as if we crossed over to the right side of wrong, and everything is too hot, and his cock is too huge, and I have too many clothes. I want him to lay me out and use me. I want him to do anything to me. Everything to me.

I pull back, knowing he’ll shove my head back onto his cock, and he does, fingers digging into my scalp.

My nipples rub on his legs, heating—from the friction, maybe—and I nearly get off. It’s pure madness. Usually I need a lot of help.

But this is Aleksio being Aleksio. He always went too far, and I always loved him for it.

I feel when he’s going to come.

“No teeth. Don’t you fucking…” He jerks into my throat. The orgasm goes on forever. He holds my head firmly in his grip, panting.

I move my tongue a tiny bit and he clutches my hair. “God! Don’t move.”

I feel dazed. Heart pounding. This was the wildest and most powerful sexual experience of my life and I didn’t even come.

“Okay,” he whispers after a while, gently extracting himself from me. I sit on the coffee table, wiping my mouth and striking the tears from my cheeks.

His eyes shine, and I know he felt power of what just happened. The mad connection. Deep down, I know that neither of us have been here before. He reaches out and brushes my hair from my forehead.

That’s when I see the gun in his other hand, dark and cold and black.

He was holding a gun? Why? Why would he need a gun?

“Don’t worry, the safety was on.” He puts it aside, eyes averted, and then he swipes his phone off the floor. He presses something. A red light goes off.

My mouth falls open. “What the hell? What did you do?”

“Saved your finger.”

Red. A record light.

He tucks himself in, zips himself up.

He recorded us? Why record us like that? With him holding a gun? Why would he want to make it look like he was being a violent asshole, forcing me to do that?

Suddenly everything in the room gets too bright, too real. “No!” I go for the phone.

He grabs my wrist, hauling me up off the couch with him. “Leave it.”

“You’re going to show that recording to him? No!” I try to twist free. “You can’t!”

He can and he will.

I’m flooded with shame for how much I enjoyed it. And Aleksio made a movie out of it! To frighten Dad!

“Fuck!” I jerk and twist, trying to get at the phone. “You can’t! Please.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh my God!”

That’s when Viktor comes in. He regards us calmly, like it’s no big deal Aleksio is manhandling me. Aleksio tosses the phone to his brother. “Play it.”

“No! Don’t!”

Viktor taps the screen.

“Don’t watch it!” I go for Viktor now, but Aleksio has me.

“You can’t send Dad that clip.”

“We’re not sending him your bloody finger, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Aleksio. So cool, so smooth. Like it meant nothing to him. And me like an idiot, getting off on his rough treatment. Making myself vulnerable to him. Showing him something I never even showed myself. I want to die.

Viktor pockets the phone. “Her severed finger would be more extreme. More urgency. But this is more pain for the old man.”

“You guys are animals!”

Aleksio tightens hold on me. “You need to be done going crazy or we’ll handcuff and gag you.”

“You have to erase it!”

“You prefer the finger? That’s what you’re saying here?”

I trusted Aleksio. I followed him somewhere extreme, and he ripped my heart open. Cutting off my finger seems tame in comparison.

“You’re thinking about it? Fuck! No. Fuck that.” He turns to Viktor. “Call and see if the sack of shit’s awake.”

DMP-signup-graphic

ADD TO GOODREADS

About the Author:

Annika Martin is a NYT bestselling author who enjoys writing dirty stories about dangerous criminals! She loves helping animals and kicking snow clumps off the bottom of cars around the streets of Minneapolis, and in her spare time she writes as the RITA award-winning author Carolyn Crane.

Connect with Annika:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter | Dirty quote newsletter

Hitched by Kendall Ryan….Excerpt Reveal

Today we are bringing you the first look inside Kendall Ryan’s upcoming book HITCHED!

 

hitched 1Marry the girl I’ve had a crush on my whole life? Check.

Inherit a hundred-billion-dollar company? Check.

Produce an heir… Wait, what?

I have ninety days to knock up my brand-new fake wife. There’s only one problem—she hates my guts.

And in the fine print of the contract? The requirement that we produce an heir.

She can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Says she’ll never be in my bed.

But I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I’m not about to start now.

Mark my words—I’ll have her begging for me, and it won’t take ninety days.

 

On the heels of her smash hit and New York Times bestselling SCREWED series, Kendall Ryan brings you HITCHED, a romantic comedy that delivers heart and heat. A NYC playboy turned business mogul has ninety days to win over the woman he’s always desired in order to save his father’s company. One tiny problem: She hates his guts.

Add to Goodreads

PRE-ORDER

Amazon | Amazon UK | iBooks | Nook | Paperback

Sign Up to Be Notified on Release Day

 

hitchedpreorder

 

 

 

hitched 1

I give him a skeptical look. “You want to show me your dick?”

“If it’ll help convince you.” He drains the last drops of his Scotch and stands up. “Come on, let’s go.”

I stare after him as he walks away.

Is he serious? He’s just going to whip it out? I look around to see if anyone is watching me, then I get up and follow him to the bar’s back hallway, near the restrooms, unable to comprehend why the hell I’m humoring him. This is ridiculous.

Once we’re safely in a private corner, Noah undoes his belt, opens his fly . . . and pulls out a fucking fire hose.

Holy mother of God. My hands fly to my mouth. I want to gasp in shock, but there’s no way I’m giving him the upper hand.

He was right. His cock is nothing short of massive, and it’s not even fully erect right now. Nine inches may actually be a conservative estimate of what it might look like hard. He must destroy men’s egos every time he walks into a locker room. And I don’t even want to think about what he destroys with women . . .

“Meh. I’ve seen bigger,” I force out, fighting to maintain my composure.

Noah chuckles. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Well, th-that monster is not coming anywhere near my uterus. No, thank you. I prefer to keep my organs intact.”

Noah’s grin widens. “I doubt that, but just to be on the safe side, I’ll ease it in nice and slow. Piece of cake. Plus, you’ve got good health insurance, right?”

“That is not funny, Noah. Now, put that thing away or I’ll remove it.”

I try to sound stern, but my shaking voice and bright red cheeks surely give me away. Why the hell can’t I stop staring?

He chuckles—yeah, the jerk can definitely see right through me—but he obliges, tucking the beast back into its lair.

 

 

 

 

hitchedseries

 

 



Kendall Ryan Headshot 1 pic

A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 1.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. She’s a traditionally published author with Simon & Schuster and Harper Collins UK, as well as an independently published author. Since she first began self-publishing in 2012, she’s appeared at #1 on Barnes & Noble and iBooks charts around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.

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

Subscribe to Newletter

Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

 

 

Dirty Stolen Forever by Nazarea Andrews…Cover Reveal

DSF_Coverreveal

 

Today we are having a cover reveal for DIRTY STOLEN FOREVER by Nazarea Andrews. This book will release July 11th and is up for pre-order. Dirty Stolen Forever is an adult contemporary romance, standalone novel, that is the second book in the Green County series.

 

 

Click here to add DIRTY STOLEN FOREVER to Goodreads

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000446_00060]

Title: Dirty Stolen Forever (Green County, 2)
Author: Nazarea Andrews
Release Day: July 11th

PRE-ORDER NOW

Amazon

Book Blurb:

 

Colt Rayburn loved Aiden Delvin, once. A lifetime ago. Before duty and the Marines took him a world away, chewed him up and spit him out.
Aiden would have waited forever for Colt to come back. But Colt didn’t want that, and he’s rebuilt his life. Without the man he loves.
When Colt comes home from a deployment that went wrong, Aiden is there. Inexplicably back in Green County and impossible to resist. He swore he’d never go back to that place, never destroy Aiden the way he had when he walked away the first time.
But Aiden grew up and changed too, while Colt played war hero.
Both of them know what they want. After all this time. But can a love story that destroyed them once be rebuilt, when life and duty still hangs over them both…

 

DSF_Teaser1

Exclusive Excerpt:
Hell is being forced to look. To watch Colt from behind the lens of my camera, his sexy little smirk, and the not-quite bedroom smile, a soft twist of the lips that tugs hard at me.
It’s not the smile I got, after sex when we were lazy and he was half asleep against my shoulder. It’s just a little bit guarded. But it’s close enough.
Close enough that desire skitters like a living thing along my skin as I watch him.
I don’t have to tell him what to do. Colt was my first live subject, a lifetime ago. Photographing him is as easy as breathing, and as painful as stabbing knives.
I want to demand to know why he was pushing, in the USO building.
He had wanted to kiss me.
“Aiden!” Colt calls, and it snaps me from my thoughts. He looks amazing in a dark green t-shirt that’s too tight across his broad chest, and camo pants that hang like pure perfection on his lean hips.
He looks every inch the Marine.
When Colt told me he was leaving, I didn’t believe him.
And then he did, and it was so….wrong. So unbelievable, that I did the only thing I knew how to do—I shoved everything that remotely reminded me of him away. I left Green County, and I left Remi and Brian and Shelly. The family that had adopted me because Colt Rayburn loved me.
I left my favorite brother, and the entire world that I knew.
All of it was like a knife, straight to the gut, and when I got off that plane in New York, I pulled the knife out.
I let the wound heal.
Except.
There was always a piece that was left behind. The tip of the knife, broken off and lodged under my skin. Colt was lodged under my skin, and as much as I wanted to be free of him, I couldn’t be.
Even when I healed, and allowed myself to move on—even when I was with other people—Colt was with me. A part of me.
And now….
Now he’s here, and he’s giving me that smirk, all Marine Corps bad boy. The favorite son of Green County, the fucking war hero.
And it twists, that damn piece of Colt deep inside me, twists and it’s pure agony.

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

NazareaAndrews

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

AUTHOR LINKS:

Sign Up For Nazarea’s Newsletter

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Tumblr | Instagram | Street Team

InkSlinger PR Blogger Banner - New

 

Last Kiss by Laurelin Paige…Excerpt Reveal

Last Kiss ER Banner.jpg

Last Kiss by Laurelin Paige

Series: First and Last #2
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Genre: Romantic Suspense/ Contemporary Romance

“Visceral, enticing, shining with white lies and dark truths, seductive twists and turns, and a love that takes your breath away.” – Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author

last kiss cover

Synopsis:

A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE FILLED WITH DARK DESIRES AND DANGEROUS SECRETS…

Emily Wayborn has made a decision.

She might not fully trust handsome and deadly Reeve Sallis, but he is the one person that gives her what she needs. With Reeve she can finally be herself. Submitting to him is the only thing keeping her grounded as the rest of her life falls apart. But the hotelier is a master at keeping secrets and as she continues her quest for answers someone is making sure she doesn’t find them.

Time is running out and she is questioning everything she thought she knew about friendship and love. She must now make an impossible choice that will determine if she will survive with her heart…or at all.

Excerpt:

What he really wanted to hear were the other words, the words I couldn’t give. He’d danced around it, too, though. He’d suggested he loved me, but he’d never told me outright. Those words stood so prominently that they’d become a barrier between us. Either they’d been a lie, a cruel response to my scheming, or they’d been truthful—a possible doorway leading to something else. Something more.

Damn, how I wanted the more. Wanted it enough to brave broaching the subject. “You said things the other night, Reeve—”

He jumped in, turning his head to meet my eyes straight on. “I meant them.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

There was so much to say in response and yet nothing at all came to mind. And as wary as I was to fully trust him, I believed him. Many men had proclaimed their love for me—usually when I had my mouth around their dick—but it had never been sincere. The plethora of false variations had been enough to teach me that this version was the real thing.

But Reeve had said he’d loved Amber that night as well. And I believed that too.

“I want you sleeping in my bed, Emily.”

Or perhaps I was wrong about everything, and his devotion was tied up in sex like all the other men I’d known.

I considered retorting back something sassy about not always being able to get what you want. But I wasn’t quite sure that was an adage that Reeve understood. Besides, I wanted to be sleeping in his bed as well, and maybe I would be eventually. If it was really where he wanted me. If I was really the one he wanted there.

I knew I should just ask—how do you feel about Amber now? What happens next between us? It was on the tip of my tongue, the questions preformed in my mouth when I decided to swallow them instead. Because I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear those answers—whatever they may be—and, in this moment, at least, I was what he desired. And maybe it was just an excuse to not have to think about her for a minute, to not worry about feeling guilty or like I’d betrayed her. As long as I didn’t know, I could blame my behavior on ignorance, and I could please him too.

The swing rocked as I shifted to my knees. Ignoring the chill of the seat against my bare shins, I leaned forward and unfastened Reeve’s jeans.

“This isn’t my bed,” he said, not moving to either help me or stop me.

“It’s the best I can do right now.”

He’d gone commando, a sign that he’d likely tried to sleep as well, then had thrown his clothing on when he found the effort futile. I rubbed my hands together, heating them with friction before I reached in for his cock.

Just as I lowered my lips to his tip, he said, “That ‘right now’ insinuates that there will be a time that you can do more.”

I didn’t want to answer, afraid of giving too much of myself away. Afraid that he wouldn’t like my reasons for not being with him fully or that he’d try to talk me out of worrying about Amber’s place in all of this.

So I occupied my mouth in other ways that prevented talking.

Last-Kiss-Stroke.jpg

Add to your TBR on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1OYml8h

Pre-Order Links:
Amazon / Amazon UK / iBooks / Barnes and Noble / Google / Kobo

About Laurelin:
laurelinpaige

NY Times & USA Today Bestselling author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender.

Facebook / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Instagram / Website
Don’t miss a release. Sign up for Laurelin’s Newsletter

 

All The Rage by T.M. Frazier….Excerpt Reveal

all the rage excerpt [13665]

Excerpt

ARE YOU READY TO RAGE?

“What you don’t seem to understand is all that matters right now is standing right fucking here,” Nolan said, his voice thick and deep. His eyes were the darkest I’d ever seen them, glimmering with wicked intent. One side of his full lips curled upward in a devilish smirk. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I was consumed by him. Or at least, from the way he continued to fuck me with his eyes, I knew I was about to be.

Nolan took a step forward and I took two back. Our little dance made him chuckle, the sound coming from deep within his throat. With just that little laugh my insides clenched so hard I gasped. Nolan’s smirk grew into a knowing smile. His eyes darted to the space between my legs where my shorts had ridden up, exposing every inch of my shaking thighs.

He licked his bottom lip, tracing it with the tip of his tongue. My inner battle raged on between wanting to run away from him, and wanting to run straight into him. Although, it wasn’t like it mattered which option won out in the end. The pier was narrow, and Nolan was blocking my only way out.

He reached down and unbuckled his belt, sliding it out through the loops. Folding it in half, he snapped the leather together. The sound an echoing crack through the damp night air.

Our dance continued as he took another step toward me and I again retreated. “Since you don’t seem to feel the same way, let me tell you what’s going to happen right now,” Nolan started.

“I’m going to make you come on my fingers.” Step. “On my tongue.” Step. “And around my cock.” His last step closed the space between us. My back hit the railing, trapping me between the end of the pier and his hard wall of a chest. My breathing became even more labored, my chest rising and falling in quick succession against his. Pressing against my stomach I could feel the heat of his hard cock through the worn fabric of his jeans. My nipples hardened as the ache in my core grew into need. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard. And I’m not going to stop fucking you until you realize that this shit between us is all that matters.”

That’s when I realized there would be no escaping this time.

From him.

From this.

From us.

all the rage coming soon [13666]

Are you ready to meet Rage?

All the Rage is a Stand Alone Book

Pre Order All the Rage by T.M. Frazier for a June 7th release exclusively on iBooks!

All the Rage: http://apple.co/1YJhg9B

all the rage [13668]

Blurb

They call me Rage.

My real name is like a shadow, always close behind, but never quite able to catch up.

I fly under the radar because no one ever suspects I m capable of the kind of brutal violence I commit each and every day.

You see, I m a girl. I m nineteen.

And I’m a killer.

This life is all I know. It s all I want to know. It keeps the s**t buried that I need kept buried. It allows me to live without thinking too much.

Without dwelling on the past.

Until him.

It all changes when an ordinary boy becomes my next target.

And my first love.

I have to choose.

The only life I ve ever known has to die, or he does.

Either way, I ll be the one pulling the trigger…

All the Rage is a STANDALONE

SSUCv3H4sIAAAAAAAEAH1QQQqDMBC8F/oHydmDImLbR5RCDz1ID2tcJBhNSaJFxL93Y5TmUHrLzOxMdnY+HqKIVWAEZ5dodoiwkHIwVoMVqic6iTcea2GVFiAd6bhlVZixYAeDxkVsFAeLDc16cvPv/5QeR7uwiuQgid1QvSSyOFDMUDnloTrs2c4v8Z+QK+2jf4bc2+kb4R/PvR402PNpLRGU0ygRfLnSj7L2bVF3Yd1R1KgCDEMtVNB8VBykM2RBMqcjqy5w1XQ0t2SaJadzkRZ5nuRpUuRZRjsvH1jViVasAQAA

About the Author

t.m. frazier [942175]

T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and three feisty fur kids.

She attended Florida Gulf Coast University where she specialized in public speaking. After years working in real estate and new home construction, she decided it was finally time to stop pushing her dreams to the back burner and pursue writing seriously.

In the third grade she wrote her very first story about a lost hamster. It earned rave reviews from both her teacher and her parents.

It only took her twenty years to start the next one.

It will not be about hamsters.

Stalk Her: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, and Goodreads.

 

Je Suis A Toi by Pepper Winters….Excerpt Reveal

je suis a toi excerpt reveal [5693]

Excerpt

“You obeyed me.”

Her head bowed, her legs spreading wider, revealing the gift I worshiped daily between her legs. “I did. I look forward to my reward.”

My lips curled; the darkness enveloped me. The beast inside stretched, unsheathing its claws, lengthening its spine in preparation.

I stalked toward her and fisted her hair. I fell more in love than I already was.

This woman made me come alive. This woman would end up killing me. But my life was already hers, and I would die gratefully on the pyre of her affection.

“Tu connaiss les règles, esclave.” You know the rules.

“What rules, maître?”

“You don’t get your reward until you’ve been punished.”

Her gaze glittered with rebellion and retaliation but not one ounce of fear—the perfect cocktail for a bastard like me. “Go ahead. You’ll never break me.”

“Ah, my sweet, sweet Tess. That might be the case…” I nipped at her bottom lip. “Mais ça ne m’empêchera pas d’essayer.” But it won’t stop me from trying.

Dropping the black bag by her spread legs, I tugged on her right plait. “Up.”

Unfolding immediately, she stood quivering before me. Her chest rose and fell, imprisoned in the dark red bra I’d handpicked for her. Her flat stomach shadowed with faint bruises from previous nights, and I traced the bite mark I’d left on her hipbone after our parlour games.

I wanted to do what I’d planned now. To get it over with before she could have second thoughts. But I restrained myself. Anticipation would make it that much sweeter.

Gripping her jaw, I kissed her with a wet-as-fuck dominating kiss before pushing her backward to the bed.

She obeyed every prompt. Falling onto the bedspread, she watched me with desire-glittering eyes.

This room was very much like our assigned accommodation, only smaller. The fireplace roared with heat and the four-poster bed hung with midnight blue drapery rather than forest green.

My jeans and t-shirt became too tight as my body prepared to tease and torture.

Tess squirmed on the mattress as I moved toward her and yanked her up the bed by her arms. The moment she was in the middle, I uncoiled a piece of Japanese silk rope from my pocket and looped it around her wrist.

With a sharp smile, I secured her to one of the four bedposts.

It was a risk tying her down like this. After all, she’d done the same to me when I’d given her my nightmares to hopefully break hers. However, no memory of that day hovered in her gaze. Her skin already flushed with lust as I fastened her other wrist and moved toward her ankles.

She didn’t speak—she was too well trained—but her eyes never left my ministrations.

She gasped as my fingers ran around her ankle, cupping her heel protectively before wrenching her legs apart and securing them as tight as her wrists.

Once finished, she lay spread-eagled with no hope of escape.

I stood and surveyed my fucking delicious woman. The lingerie barely hid her bare pussy, shadowing it in red lace while her bra couldn’t hide the pinpricks of nipples begging me to bite.

Running a fingertip from her instep to her clit, I murmured, “So pretty and no chance of running. What shall I do with you?”

Her hands fisted, her lips parting with breath. “Anything…do anything you want.”

“Anything?” My fingers pinched her pussy, indenting her soft flesh with the lace protecting her.

She gasped, white cheeks flushing so prettily. The scrap of material couldn’t hide how wet and hot she was, drenching the delicate underwear. Her desire matched mine. I was rock-fucking-hard for her.

“I’ll give you a choice, Tess.” Rubbing her pussy, I pressed hard and swift. “Pain or pleasure first? You make the call.”

Her back bowed as I stabbed at her entrance, prevented from entering her by the lacy garment. Soon, that bastard chastity belt would have to be sliced away. But for now, it kept me focused. Gave me a barrier I wasn’t permitted to break.

Her eyes switched from dove-grey to dark blizzard. “Pain…I pick pain first.”

I shook my head, stealing my hand from her core and bending to unzip my black bag. “Wrong choice.”

“Life taught me an eternal love will demand the worst sacrifices. A transcendent love will split your soul, cleaving you into pieces. A love this strong doesn’t grant you sweetness—it grants you pain. And in that pain is the greatest pleasure of all.”

je suis a toi teaser [5692]

Je Suis A Toi by Pepper Winters releases on May 31st.

Pre-order on iBooks here: http://apple.co/1Tm62pT

To be alerted when it’s live sign up here: http://eepurl.com/120b5

JE SUIS A TOI [5694]

Blurb

Q made me the happiest esclave in the world. He gave me his heart, his empire, his ruthless unforgiving love. And life finally left us in peace.

A man like my maître has special needs though, growing stronger as our lives intertwine. The only way to survive his monster is to agree to all his desires.

Including his latest wish.

I’m his.

And I won’t refuse.

je suis a toi teaser 2 [5691]

Haven’t met Q & Tess yet?

Grab the Monsters in the Dark Box set here:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1AElX6H

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1ElHi9B

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1wK3MRr

iTunes: http://apple.co/1MBZr4O

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1zSget3

About the Author

pepper winters [5695]

Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.

She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

STALK Pepper: Website | Pinterest | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads