Excerpt Reveal….Savage Prince by Meghan March

Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet.

I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own.
I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me.
Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third.
My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t.
But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet.
I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness.
Hopefully it doesn’t kill us both.

Savage Prince is book one of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King, however you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot new story.

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“That you, Temperance?”
My gaze searches the darkness, interrupted only by the Chinese lanterns and fairy lights hanging from the trees, until it lands on the red dragon emblazoned on the back of a black silk kimono, topped by a fluffy white head of hair.
Shit. My landlady.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Harriet. I’ll just—”
She spins around, spry for her advanced age. “Oh, girl, you’ve got sex hair. At least that makes one of us.”
I squeeze my eyes shut in humiliation. “I . . . uh . . . got—”
“Done up right by a real man, I’d say. About damn time, girl. I was starting to think you were a lost cause of all work and no play. Almost wondered if I’d have to find a new tenant to get some entertainment around here.”
I blink twice as she shuffles toward me, fluffy pink marabou slippers on her feet. “You were going to kick me out because I work too much?”
I knew my landlady was a little nutty, but I didn’t realize she was downright crazy.
“It would’ve been a last resort. I was going to send you a male stripper first. Girl, you need some fun in your life, and you do nothing but go between here and work. Boring as hell.”
Her point is finally sinking in, but part of me is still in shock. “I’m boring?”
“Of course you are. I swear, you go out of your way to stay that way too. But not tonight. Tonight, you look like you got dicked down by a real man.” She takes a seat at the outdoor patio table and reaches for a bottle of wine. “Here’s a glass. Now, sit down and consider part of your rent spilling the juicy details.”
Dumbstruck, I close the distance between us and take a seat at the table. “It’s nothing. I swear.”
“Girl, you’re practically walking bowlegged. I’ve been around the block plenty of times. You won’t shock me.”
I reach for the glass of wine and take a long drink. Good Lord, I needed this.
“I shouldn’t even be admitting what I did tonight.”
Harriet’s aged eyes practically light up as she grins. “Those are the best stories. Come now, I’ll take it to the grave.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I think I accidentally went to a sex club.”
Harriet’s wineglass clinks the metal of the table. “I knew this was going to be good. How do you accidentally go to a sex club?”
I tell her about the note that came to the office, and rushing to meet the appointment, assuming I was there to sell whiskey . . . and end with the part about running from the room.
Harriet claps with childlike excitement. “There’s hope for you yet, Temperance. When are you going back?”
I’m stunned at her reaction. I didn’t exactly expect her to judge, but I sure didn’t think she’d cheer me on.
“Never. I can’t. That’s not me. I’m not . . .”
“Interesting? Sexually adventurous? Up to be manhandled regularly by a real man?”
“I don’t even know his name!”
Harriet waves off my concern. “If I had a nickel for every man whose name I didn’t know, I’d be even richer than I am now. You can’t take life so seriously. You’ll never make it out alive. Now, you go upstairs, take the rest of this bottle of wine, and get tipsy enough to forget all the shouldn’ts and can’ts. If you need me to do some stalking to find this guy, just let me know. I have connections.”

A New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels, Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

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Excerpt Reveal….Come A Little Closer by Kim Karr

Join New York Times Bestselling Author Kim Karr on another emotional journey in her next release, Come A Little Closer, on March 28th!

What happens when bad meets good? Get ready to find out. Only this time the bad isn’t who you think it is. It was a one-night stand, until she forced him to change the rules.

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—

I haven’t always been this bad…

Up until recently, I was the kind of girl who wore white cotton panties and bent at the knees rather than the waist.

Pomp and circumstance changed all that.

Jaxson Cassidy was my first taste of bad, and I liked it more than I should have. Just not in the way I was meant to. I couldn’t help myself though. I found him irresistible. That sexy grin, those skilled fingers, and that dirty, dirty mouth were a lethal combination.

I wasn’t supposed to want him. I wasn’t supposed to let him put his hands on me. I wasn’t supposed to do a lot of things…but I did.

He wants to keep me close.
I should push him away.

He says he can help me.
I’m not so sure.

For some reason, he thinks there’s good left in me.
What if he’s wrong?

Everyone knows a good boy can’t turn a bad girl around.
Everyone knows it’s always the other way.
Everyone…except him.

EXCERPT:

Sadie

There was a dominance in his body language I couldn’t deny.

Heeding his invitation, I stopped before him. He stood and his towering height overwhelmed me, but when he pulled the empty barstool out and grinned at me, I felt electrically charged. “Hi.”

Slowly, I climbed onto it. For some reason, I couldn’t stop my knees from wobbling. “Hi,” I tried to respond, but it sounded more like a squeak.

The way he was looking at me made me feel like I was the only person in the room. I opened my mouth to say something more but found no words. Instead, my breath hissed out as a slow leak.

What was I doing?

I should have been running in the other direction. I didn’t have time for careless flirting. I had a job to do. One I knew I would never really be able to do.

Settling myself on the luxurious white leather stool, I crossed one leg over the other. As soon as I did, his heavy stare rolled over my face and then down my body. It felt like he was surveying every inch of me.

Suddenly, I wasn’t cold anymore. Heat roared through me like a fire being doused with gasoline.

The way he was looking at me was anything but subtle.

He was anything but subtle.

I didn’t care. I didn’t want subtle. I wanted bold.

A flash of thunder cut through the window, illuminating his face. His stunning features. Hard jaw. High cheekbones. Strong forehead. Full and curved mouth. Edible lips. And those eyes, they grabbed me and wouldn’t let go—like he saw the blackness inside me and wanted to add some light.

Ridiculous, I knew.

That smug grin he was wearing spread across his lips as he sat back down. The movement caused his dark hair to flip forward over his eyes. He pushed it away, and the gesture broke the trance I was in. Thick-lashed eyes shined as brilliant as the brightest lights I’d ever seen and amusement seemed to sparkle in their dark color.

All of a sudden I felt dizzy. Lost. Reborn. Taken back in time.

He was Eros.

I was Aphrodite.

He was Cupid.

I was Venus.

I let my bag drop to my feet beside my suitcase.

He twisted in my direction. “Crazy weather,” he said in a voice that was deep, cultured, sexy.

It made me shiver.

Half a nervous laugh snuck out of me. “You’re not kidding.”

Out of nowhere, the bartender set two heavy crystal glasses of amber-colored liquid in front of stock-photo guy and myself, and it shocked me. I hadn’t ordered anything, most especially not whiskey.

“Should I add this to your tab?” the bartender directed, and not toward me.

“Please,” stock-photo guy answered.

Embarrassment washed over me. He was with someone and I had misread him completely.

Hopping to my feet, I felt unsteady in my heels. “I’m so sorry. I should have asked if this seat was taken. I’ll get out of your way.”

Moving fast, he rose to his full height. He was close. So close. Floored by over six feet of hotness, his scent hit me immediately. Something manly, with a hint of the ocean. I took a moment to breathe it in and tried not to wince when the pain in my ribs struck.

His strong hands steadied my hips. “No, don’t leave. The drink is for you.”

And I felt. Felt his touch race down my hips, knot in my stomach, and make my toes curl.

If he was Cupid, I’d been struck by his arrow.

My gaze darted up, up, up, and when our eyes locked, my pulse started to race. “I can’t. I’m waiting for a flight,” I stupidly said.

He was a bad idea.

Staying was a bad idea.

This whole thing was a bad idea—and yet it already felt so good.

He dipped his head, those dark eyes going liquid with a heat I felt between my thighs. “In case you haven’t looked at the monitors, no one is going anywhere right now. All the planes are grounded until morning.”

I laughed, and it wasn’t an act. “I know that,” I replied. “What I meant was that drinking is a bad idea when I have such a long night ahead of me.”

His eyes flickered to my lips before returning to mine. “Exactly. It’s going to be a very long night, which is why drinking seems like a really good idea.”

No alarm bells rang. Instead, I smiled. I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Sit,” he said, moving back to his stool.

For a moment I forgot everything and allowed myself to get lost in the darkest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Without thinking anything through, I sat back down. “Maybe just one.”

The look he gave me screamed sinful bad boy.

“Reading Hotlanta?” I asked, pointing to his bag.

With a shake of his head, he blew my comment off. “More like reading crap.”

Okay, I had no response to that, and luckily I didn’t need one.

He lifted his glass. “To passing time,” he toasted.

The way he looked at me when he spoke made my pulse jump and nipples pop. Ignoring my body’s reaction to him, I lifted my own. “To passing time,” I repeated, clinking his glass.

I didn’t really have time.

I had a job to do.

I couldn’t stay with him.

Could I?

I was stranded at the airport, after all.

I lowered my glass and sighed.

“Tough day?” he asked after taking more like a gulp of his whiskey.

“Yes,” I responded truthfully.

He took another long sip of his drink and let his eyes linger on my thighs. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

In that moment I was no longer Sarah, the lonely rich wife or the wandering mistress or the high-priced call girl I had been sent here to be. I wasn’t acting. I didn’t want to. I was just being me. Albeit, a well dressed-up version of myself, but still me.

Following his lead, I practically guzzled the potent liquor. Once I’d drained it, I figured why not talk. Setting my empty glass down, I told him, “I had to make a decision today and I have no idea if I made the right one.”

In truth, I already knew it was the wrong one.

Being here was wrong.

Being with him was wrong.

And yet, talking to him felt right.

I shouldn’t have come here to steal what wasn’t mine, no matter the reason. It wasn’t me. I didn’t earn what these men had. And I hated myself for even thinking about taking from them.

It was then I looked into his eyes and saw that very familiar feeling of loathing. Those dark eyes I thought had been filled with mirth were actually brooding.

What did he hate himself for?

I wanted to know.

Was I a way for him to forget? If so, did it matter? Either way, I wanted to be the one to ease his pain.

And I had no idea why.

He downed the rest of his glass and signaled the bartender. “You know,” he said, “sometimes I think the only way to get by in this world is to step off for a while.”

I glanced at his bags on the floor. “Is that what you’re doing? Stepping off for a while?”

The bartender placed the entire bottle of Macallan Rare Cask in front of us, and hot photo-guy picked it up right away. “Something like that,” he answered as he poured. “My ex-fiancée got married yesterday, and I was there.”

“Ouch,” I said.

He nodded and finished pouring. “Yeah, hence the heavy drinking. So what’s your story?”

It felt wrong to lie, so I didn’t. I just didn’t tell the whole truth. “I was recently fired.”

“Ouch,” he offered back with a wicked grin and set the bottle down to hold out his hand. That strong, confident, dominant hand. “I’m Sundance.”

I raised a brow. “As in Butch Cassidy?”

“The very same. It’s a nickname, actually.”

Sundance.

Hot name.

I liked it.

I took his offered hand, and the electric current that ran up my arm was stronger than the alcohol flowing through my veins. “Sarah.” The lie slipped out, and I couldn’t take it back. Then again, I didn’t think it really mattered. “And stepping off for a while sounds like a really good idea.”

He leaned closer and lifted his glass. “So, Sarah, what are we going to do to make that happen?”

My brow lifted curiously. “I’m open to suggestions,” I said, the alcohol taking over where reason should have stepped in.

He drained his drink. “Are you?”

The way those two words came out sounded like an invitation. I was in the middle of downing my glass when I lowered it. “Yes, I am. I mean, within reason, of course.”

“Good to know.” He tossed me a panty-melting grin and poured a little more into his glass.

“Why? What do you have in mind?” Ignoring my one-drink rule, I drank a little more, knowing exactly what he had in mind. It was written all over his face—in the way his eyes seemed to have turned the darkest shade of blue, the way his sinful mouth curved ever-so-much, and the way he leaned in even closer to me.

When he was a breath away, he raised the sexiest brow in answer. “We could take this somewhere a little more private.”

I smiled back. A silent, “Yes, I’m interested.”

“One rule,” he cautioned.

Now I raised the brow. “Rules already? I don’t even know you,” I joked.

“And that’s the way I like it,” he deadpanned.

In that moment I knew what he wanted.

To be anonymous.

To be free.

And to get fucked.

I wanted all of those things, too.

He went on. “We don’t talk about our lives,” he murmured, kissing behind my ear.

I allowed my head to lull back, silently agreeing to his rule because even though he couldn’t possibly know it was the only way I could be with him, it was.

His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of my throat, and I knew that somehow I had gone from the one doing the preying to the one being preyed on.

And I was okay with that.

Maybe stepping off for a while was exactly what I needed.

About the Author:

Reader * Chocolate Lover * Writer * Coffee Lover * Romantic * Beach Lover * Yoga Beginner

Kim Karr is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of eighteen novels. Best known for writing sexy contemporary love stories, she enjoys bringing flawed characters to life and creating romances that are page worthy. Her stories are raw, real, and explosive. Her characters will make you laugh, make you cry, make you feel. And her happily-ever-afters are always swoon worthy. From the brooding rock star to the arrogant millionaire to the Football Player. From the witty damsel-in-distress to the sassy high-powered businesswoman to the boutique owner. No two storylines are ever alike. If Kim’s not writing, you can find her wandering through antique stores with her husband, trying out new fitness classes with her sons, venturing out to new coffee shops with her daughter, or with her nose stuck in a book.

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Back to the Start (Collection) by Aly Martinez….Excerpt

Today we are celebrating the release of BACK TO THE START by Aly Martinez. Back to the Start is a collection of 5 of Aly’s previously released novels. You can get it for just 99 cents for a very limited time!

BACK TO THE START by Aly Martinez

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Synopsis:

BACK TO THE START is a collection of previously released novels by USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez. Each of the five full-length novels is a perfect starting point to dive into one of her sexy, emotional, and twisty worlds.

FIGHTING SILENCE: Sports Romance, Friends to lovers.
RETRIEVAL: Romantic Suspense, Second chance.
THE FALL UP: Contemporary Romance, Celebrity opposites attract.
CHANGING COURSE: Contemporary Romance, Broken hero.
SINGE: Romantic Suspense, Alpha bodyguard.

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Fighting Siilence by Aly Martinez

He didn’t budge, but my bare feet slipped, sending me toward the ground. Impossibly fast, Till’s hand snaked out and caught my arm. But I didn’t let his chivalrous gesture douse my fire. I had six months’ worth of words to say to the man I was irrevocably in love with.
“You took what you wanted. Then you left me.”
“Doodle,” he whispered.
I had been perilously close to the edge of insanity, and with one single word, he’d pushed me over.
I lost it completely.
Pounding my fists against his chest, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “It’s Eliza! My name is fucking Eliza! Not Doodle!” I spun to march away, but Till’s arms folded around me, lifting me off my feet to restrain me.
I was miniscule compared to him. There was no use in fighting, but I still kicked my legs, irrationally desperate to get away from him—but only because I knew I couldn’t keep him for forever.
“Stop it!” he growled into my ear. “I know your goddamned name—probably better than I know my own.”
While I was wrapped in Till’s strong arms, six months’ worth of tears fell from my eyes. He carried me to my apartment and guided me back through the window before following me inside. Then he stripped out of his blood-soaked shirt before dragging the blankets down and climbing into the bed behind me. I cried for a while in his arms, even turning to face him, only to cry against his chest. I had missed him so much.
I knew I’d loved Till years ago, but this was more. I needed him in order to function on a very basic level. Together, the world didn’t feel so big and overwhelming. He was my escape—the dream personified.
Till Page was comfortable.
His hands trailed up and down my back as he lulled me until the words fought their way out.
“I couldn’t stop going back,” I announced in a broken whisper. “I didn’t know where you had gone. And for the first time since I was thirteen, I was alone inside my own head. God. It was a scary place.” I tried to joke, but the tears streaming down my face told the truth.
“I’m sorry,” he responded on a sigh. “I couldn’t stay.”
“Why?” I whined, but I curled in closer against his chest, needing to feel him more than anything else.
“I don’t know, Doodle,” he lied.
God! It was such a fucking lie. He knew as well as I did. He just didn’t want to tell me.
“Where did you go?” I pressed further.
There was no way I ever could have expected his answer, but that wasn’t because it was a novel thought. No. His answer was surprising because it was the source of my anguish too.
“The real world.” He kissed my forehead.

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her four young children.

Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys cheap wine, mystery leggings, and baked feta. 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 super-sized tumbler of wine by her side.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Only You by Melanie Harlow…Excerpt Reveal

Only You, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is coming March 12th!

Synopsis

Nate Pearson is ridiculously handsome and wears the hell out of a suit and tie, but I’ve seen the parade of beautiful women leaving his apartment across the hall—a different one every time—and I want no part of it. When it comes to romance, I’m looking for something real, something that will last: the happily ever after.

As a divorce attorney, he loves to tell me there’s no such thing.

As a wedding planner, I choose to disagree.

We disagree on almost everything, in fact. Everything except James Bond. The only time we really get along is when we’re watching 007 flicks together, and I’ll admit—he has rescued me from a disaster or five. So when one of the baton twirlers from his parade leaves a baby girl at his door with a note that says “I’ll come back for her” and he begs me for help, I can’t turn him down.

But it’s a mistake.

Because watching him with his daughter, I start to see another side of Nate, a side that has my breath coming faster, my body craving his, my heart longing for him to change his mind about love and tell me there’s a chance for us.

I don’t want to be just another girl leaving his apartment in the morning.

I want to be the one he asks to stay.

Excerpt

“You know, even an alpha male can have feelings occasionally.”

“Oh?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, giving me the evil eye. “Yes. He doesn’t have to be hard as granite all the way through, all the time.”

Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. I leaned back against the opposite counter and sort of held my glass in front of my crotch. “Why are you even concerned with alpha males? You’re never attracted to them.”

“What? Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not.” I knew her type well. “You’re always saying how you don’t want to be rescued, you want someone willing to show affection and talk about feelings, you don’t like arrogant or competitive guys or guys who always have to win, you like guys who get along with everyone—”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But that’s not an alpha male.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “But look at Bond. Who is he so worried about protecting? Why is he so driven to kill the bad guys? There must be people he cares about more than himself to put himself in harm’s way so often.”

“Maybe he just likes the thrill of the chase.”

“Maybe he’s more selfless than you think.”

“In this case, I think we’re going to have to disagree.”

She sighed heavily, and I knew I had disappointed her by ending the argument in a draw instead of winning or losing it. Any other night, I might have kept it going, but there was something odd going on with me, something that had me wanting to close the distance between us, set her up on the counter, slip my hands beneath that fuzzy white sweater she had on, see what her legs felt like wrapped around my hips. But I knew better.

Get her out of here before you do something stupid.

“Hey, you got fortune cookies? I didn’t see those.” She reached for the little cellophane bag.

“I forgot about them.”

“Can I have one?”

“You can have them both.”

She took one out and cracked it open. “A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not why ships are built.”

“Very deep.”

She ignored me and went on to the next one. “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Her lips pursed. “Hm. I don’t want a dangerous ship or a broken heart.”

I laughed at the anguish in her tone and expression.

“It’s not funny,” she said, shoving pieces of cookie in her mouth. “It means I’m doomed to be unhappy. And then I’m going to die in a shipwreck.”

“It means you take things way too seriously.” I tipped back the last of the bourbon in my glass, and set it in the sink. “Well, I’ve got an early morning at the gym tomorrow.”

She popped the rest of one cookie in her mouth and brushed off her hands. “I’m going. What time is it anyway?”

I checked the digital clock on the microwave. “It’s 11:11.”

Her face lit up. “Ooh! Make a wish!”

“What?”

“It’s 11:11, you have to make a wish.” She closed her eyes for a couple seconds, her lips moving as if saying a silent prayer. Then she opened them. “Did you do it?”

I laughed. “No.”

“Nate! Hurry up! Make a wish.” She glanced at the clock and flapped her hands agitatedly.

“I don’t have a wish to make.”

“So make one for me, then. And do it fast, before it’s 11:12.”

This time it was my turn to roll my eyes, but secretly I wished that the next guy she fell in love with would love her back the way she deserved, and she’d be happy. But I didn’t close my eyes, and I didn’t move my lips, so she had no idea whether I’d made a wish or not.

“Did you do it?” She looked concerned.

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

Her mouth fell open for a second. “What was it? What did you wish for me?”

I started to laugh as I left the kitchen. “Nice try, Calamity. Even I know you don’t tell a wish if you want it to come true.” The credits were still rolling on the television, and I picked up the remote to turn everything off.

“Oh, now you believe in wishes?” She sat down on the couch and tugged on her fluffy boots.

No, I wanted to tell her. I don’t, because I learned a long time ago that wishes and prayers and hopes don’t mean anything. No one is listening. But I didn’t tell her that, not only because she was looking up at me with my favorite expression of hers, the one daring me to fight back, but because at that very moment, I heard a noise in the hall.

A strange and oddly terrifying noise.

I looked over my shoulder toward the door, thinking I must have imagined the sound.

Then I heard it again—the unmistakable, ball-shrinking, cringe-inducing sound of a baby’s wail.

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About Melanie:

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

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

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Two Wedding Crashers by Meghan Quinn….Excerpt Reveal

I don’t know what love is anymore.

Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.

You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?

Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.

Except I haven’t felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem–but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?

That’s how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.

It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I’m a pro. I can handle this.

Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I’m doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don’t think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.

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Crystal-blue ocean shines below me, and if I wasn’t so scared of Zoey and her repercussions for being late, I would take the time to appreciate Mother Nature. Instead I hurry into my room, flop my suitcase on my bed, unzip it, and grab my toiletries.

Not taking a second longer, I strip down, leaving my gross airplane clothes on the floor, and practically skip to the shower where I stop mid stride.

In the shower stall is a black razor, with accompanying shaving cream. That’s odd. Is that courtesy of the hotel? This place is fancy, but not that fancy. Spinning on my heel, I turn toward the sink behind me and spot a white and green toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and men’s cologne. Shit, turning toward the room, my eyes frantically roam the space, spotting a black suitcase in the corner.

Shit, shit, shit.

Naked, I cover my breasts with my arm and open the closet door only to come face to face with a few hung-up shirts.

Yup . . . I’m in someone else’s fucking room.

And whoever this room belongs to is the neatest person ever because who honestly lines up there toothbrush and toothpaste tube perfectly on the counter?

Reaching for the phone, I call down to the front desk.

“Mr. Wilder, how can we assist you?” Oh yeah, totally not in the correct room.

“Uh, yeah, hi, this is Rylee Ryan. I just checked in. I was given the key to room 625 and it seems to be occupied.”

“Oh dear, let me check.” There is a pause on the phone and then the lady comes on the line again. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. Ryan. We have you in room 626. Would you like to come down here and grab a new key?”

Is she kidding? The trek it took to get over here ate up enough of my time. I can’t possibly take a shower if I have to run back to the lobby, grab a key, and run all the way back here.

“Would you mind bringing it to room 625? I have dinner plans and have to get changed.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll send someone up with a key right away.”

“Thank you.”

I hop around naked, eyeing my pukey clothes on the floor and the shower in the other room. Twisting my lip to the side, I try to decide what to do. I can be super quick, like really fucking quick. I just need to scrub the puke and throw on a dress, simple. Two minutes tops. The water doesn’t even have to be warm. I’ll write a polite note to Mr. Wilder—whoever that is—leave him five dollars as a kind gesture and quietly leave. No problem with that. Right?

Right.

Turning on the shower, I hop in before the water can warm up and hiss from the frosty temperature. I douse soap all over my hands and scrub my neck and body vigorously first, which normally I would wash my hair first but . . . puke. Once I’m satisfied with the amount of scrubbing, I wash my hair, condition it in a minute, do one more soap scrubbing all over my body before rinsing and turning the shower off. Two minutes.

Just in case Mr. Wilder is sitting outside the bathroom, I peek my head out the door, towel wrapped around my body, and call out, “Hello?”

When there is no response, I check that the coast is clear then strut to my suitcase and find a simple black sundress. Not bothering to look for underwear or a bra—I really don’t need one with my perky B-cups—I lay out my dress and dry off.

Hopefully Mr. Wilder doesn’t mind me using one of his towels or his room for that matter. He’s probably some old dude away on his golfing vacation. I hope I don’t give him a heart attack.

I drape my towel over the bed and run my hands through my naturally wavy, black hair. This will have to do. Picking up my towel one more time, I scrunch my hair, trying to soak up all the water just as the hotel door swings open, light blaring through, a tall, dark silhouette shadowed in the doorframe.

I still, frozen from the tips of my toes to the hand scrunching a towel in my hair.

Toned calves and legs are covered by black board shorts, slick to his thighs, a bulge prominent. Narrow waist where his board shorts ride low on his hips, a black shirt dancing across his broad chest, cinching sleeves cuffed over his biceps, and a V-neck providing a glimpse of how far his tan extends. Head cast down, eyes transfixed on his phone in front of him, he doesn’t notice the naked girl standing in the middle of his hotel room. He stuffs his keycard in his back pocket and looks up, startled.

I scream.

He grumbles something unintelligible as I point out the obvious. “Ahhh, my boobs are naked!” It might be a little concerning that I consider my boobs to be the only things naked at this point.

As quickly as I can, I cover my body, towel making a poor attempt to hide my girly bits.

The man turns away, covering his eyes with his arm while muttering, “Oh shit.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, struggling with my towel. I know damn well the man in front of me must be Mr. Wilder, and this is in fact his room, and I’m the one intruding, but I still feel the need to place the blame on him for walking in on me naked.

“Grabbing my sunglasses,” he says, his voice terrified but also deep and rumbly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Still trying to cover myself, I scramble to grab my dress and back up to the bathroom. “Washing my neck,” I answer, nervously, boobs swaying with my erratic movements.

Eyes still covered, he keeps his back toward me but straightens up. “Washing your neck? Is that code for some kind of weird Key West thing?”

I back into the bathroom and make quick attempt of putting my dress over my head and righting it so everything is covered up. Hair still damp as well as my body, I step out into the room and clear my throat, dress sticking to my damp skin. “No, it’s not code for anything. I really had to wash my neck.”

“And you chose my room to do that in, because . . .”

Bending down, I shove my dirty clothes in my bag and zip up, giving Mr. Wilder the heads-up that I’m dressed. At least he’s a gentleman . . .

When he turns around, he eyes me up and down, his gaze curious and heated when he sees just how hard my nipples are from the cold shower . . . and the unexpected peep show.

“I didn’t choose your room to take a shower in.” I move my suitcase to the floor and pull up the handle. “The hotel gave me the key to this room by mistake, and since I had puke on my neck from the airplane—long story—I decided to take a quick shower while I waited for my room. I apologize for taking up your space, but I think we’re skipping an important detail here.” I cock my hand on my hip. “You saw me naked.”

“No, I didn’t,” he retorts rather quickly, despite the slow grin that spreads across his face.

I’m calling bullshit. “You totally saw my boobs.”

“I really didn’t. Your scream scared the shit out of me. I didn’t have enough time to see anything before you covered up.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, I ask, “You promise you didn’t see anything?”

“Promise.”

Hmm. “Okay, because being hotel neighbors and all, that would be extremely awkward if you saw me naked.”

“Good thing I didn’t then.” He rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. Finally he reaches out to the desk next to him and holds up his black Ray Bans. “Just needed my sunglasses.”

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Excerpt Reveal….White Knight by CD Reiss

White Knight an All-new romantic standalone from New York Times bestselling author CD Reiss is coming March 6th!

Catherine’s long-lost love is found.

Catherine Barrington is a rich girl. Chris Cartwright is a poor boy.

He left her to make something of himself. A man she could be proud of. A man she could bring home to her parents. A man she could marry.

On the trading floor he became the man he knew he could be. Now, it’s time to return.

Rich girl.

Poor boy.

She didn’t care about his money, but he didn’t believe her. Soon after he left, all the money was gone.

Her life is hell.

Now he’s back, and he’s different. Pristine. Gorgeous. Rich.

Rich boy.

Poor girl.

Money was never the barrier, until now.

—-

White Knight is a standalone in the same world as King of Code, with its own beginning, middle, and end. You don’t need to read anything else to read White Knight.

Excerpt

Leaning on the bleachers, Chris cracked peanuts between his teeth and spit the shells. I hadn’t seen him in days and it seemed like years. Every time I saw the kick of his hips and the way his lips stretched across his teeth when he smiled, it seemed like the first time.

I watched him.

He watched me.

School started the next day. We’d go back into our different worlds. Would we meet again? Would we see each other at all? We’d grappled with the question by avoiding it.

A waft of smoke from the grills came between us.

We were alone. Surrounded by people, we were alone.

He pitched his peanut bag in the trash and washed it back with a bottle of off-brand cola. When he finished, he sucked in his bottom lip to catch an errant drop.

He tossed the bottle up. It spun in the air, and with a tap of his knuckle on its way down, he sent it into the trash.

I stepped toward him, and he stepped back. Not away. He stepped back toward something, flicking his finger that I should follow.

Easiest decision I’d ever made. It was barely even a decision.

I glanced around for Mom and Dad. They were in the gazebo with Badger, the new mayor, and his staff. Harper and the kids played with the puppies while Johnny and his wife watched. Lance jaunted around the perimeter, peeing on poles whenever he could, nipping back any sibling who got too big for their britches, ever the alpha.

I tilted directions slightly toward the bathrooms, then once past the bleachers, I saw Chris peeking from an alley between the hardware store and the library. I picked up my skirt and ran toward him, cutting the corner so hard I lost my balance. Out of nowhere, his hand was on my arm, keeping me from falling over.

Finger to lips, he led me to a black iron door. He clinked through his keys and opened it, stepping out of the way so I could pass through. We were in an office.

He closed the door with a loud clap, leaving the window as the only light.

“Chris?”

I barely got out the S before his lips kissed his name away. He put his hands on my jaw, keeping it still so he could invade my mouth. It felt good to give it to him. My body lost all its strength, held up only by the electrical currents between us.

“Catherine,” he said in a breath, keeping his lips an inch from my face as he spoke.

“Where are we?”

“Back of the hardware store. I open on Thursdays.”

“What are we going to do? I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of not seeing you anymore.”

“I’ll find you.”

I clutched his shirt as if I’d be swept away without him. “I don’t fit in anywhere. Harper is so smart she tolerates me. The only time I feel right, like I’m part of something, like I belong, is when I’m with you.”

“One more year. Then you can go to college and I’ll come after. We’ll be so far away, we’ll forget our names. When people ask where we’re from, we won’t even know.”

“I don’t know if we’ll make it a year. I feel like they see us. Even now.”

I must have been shaking, because he put his arms around me so tightly it hurt. I loved the pain of his attention. It was the pain of safety, of care, of being broken just enough for release.

“Harder,” I said into his shoulder.

He squeezed me so tightly I could just barely breathe, and the tension rolled off me like water.

He let his arms go slack enough to look me in the face. “We’ll make it. Then I’ll follow you anywhere. I’ll be your puppy dog.”

“Oh, Chris, don’t be silly.”

“Don’t deny me. I’m yours.” He said the last word with a gusto I’d never associated with myself. As if life was something to grab with both hands and free like a bird that could carry us into the sky.

Together, we were freedom.

The bird launched from my chest and flew to my lips when we kissed again. Not a kiss of relief this time, but a kiss of passion. Ours was a kiss that began a string of thoughtless acts.

His hands slid down my body, grazing my breasts, landing at my waist. I felt the hardness under his jeans. I should have been scared, or freaked out, or ashamed, but I wasn’t. I was free.

He broke the kiss and stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. “Should we go back?”

“No.” I took his wrist and put his hand on the triangle below my belly.

He gasped and his lashes fluttered. Seeing that he liked it sent my body to the edge of common sense. This was crazy and I didn’t care. Being the good girl hurt, and this felt good.

“My parents have to stay at the barbecue,” I said. “That’s their job.”

He hesitated. Swallowed hard. Pinched a bit of my skirt fabric.

I nodded.

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White Knight will be exclusively on Amazon starting March 6th so grab it while you can on other retailers!!

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About CD

CD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up she’s at the well hauling buckets.

Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.

She’s frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn’t ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.

If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

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Excerpt Reveal….Baby Daddy by Kendall Ryan

A hot and hilarious new standalone from New York Times bestseller Kendall Ryan.

We met in a trapped elevator.

Emmett was on his way to work, sophisticated and handsome in his tailored suit and tie.

I was on my way to the sperm bank. Awkward, right?

At thirty-five, my life hadn’t taken the path I thought it would and I was tired of waiting—I wanted a baby. And I was ready to take matters into my own hands to make it happen.

After our ill-fated elevator encounter, Emmett insisted on taking me to dinner—he also insisted on something else—that I ditch my plan involving a turkey baster and let him do the job. He would be my baby daddy. He was a wealthy and powerful CEO with little interest in diapers or playdates. And since he didn’t want kids, I’d be on my own once his bun was in my oven, free to go my own way.

But once his baby was inside me, it was like a switch had been flipped, and I got a whole lot more than I ever bargained for.

This full-length standalone contains a hot, swoonworthy hero, lots of playful banter and some hot baby-making ! Enjoy.

Amazon | Amazon.UK | Amazon.CA | Amazon.AU | iBooks

Prologue

Emmett

I love my dick.

That’s a fact.

And I’m not afraid to admit he’s both my best friend and my most trusted advisor. Sure, he’s gotten me into some tight spots over the years—pun very much intended—but that’s what makes life fun, right? I wouldn’t trade our relationship for the world. He stands tall and proud . . . and when he spots something he likes? He bobs with pleasure, begging to get closer.

And as for me? Well, I trust his judgment. Completely. He didn’t bob for the stunning and funny Laura in accounting. I knew there was a reason, and as it turns out, she’s a bit of a klepto. Three hundred seventy-two staplers kind of klepto.

But I’m not a total douchebag, I promise. I’m just a young CEO under immense pressure, so in my downtime, blowing off steam is practically a necessity. It’s my duty to keep my dick happy, and a steady diet of beautiful women keeps us both satisfied. I do what I can to make his life as simple and as easy as possible. Plenty of no-strings sex does the trick.

I find that when he’s well taken care of, I feel better and my brain works efficiently. Shit, my whole life just seems easier.

It’s that simple. I love my dick, and loving my dick makes my entire life better.

When my dick perks up in interest, begging for a taste of the woman we’re stranded with in a stuck elevator for two hours, I listen to his dirtiest wishes and ask her out to dinner. But the last thing I expect her to say is that she’s not interested in my dick. She’s just interested in the stuff inside, the stuff that can give her the baby she so desperately wants. No strings attached.

Who am I to say no?

Welcome to the craziest ride my dick’s ever gotten me into.

A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two 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

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Gentleman Nine by Penelope Ward…Excerpt Reveal

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

Growing up, the three of us were friends.

He was the nerd.

I was the playboy.

She was the beauty.

Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits.

He lied.

I went off to college, and he got the girl.

Amber never knew how I felt.

They were together for years—before he broke her heart.

Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch.

When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men.

One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life. She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings.

Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.

Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message.

She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend— me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.)

Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Nine at a hotel.

When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she got the surprise of her life to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse.

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**No Amazon e-book preorder. Will go live on/around release day **

Excerpt:

G9,

Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers.

That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.

—Amber

My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.

Holy shit.

I read it again.

And again.

I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory.

She wanted to use another man to f*ck me out of her system?

That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as f*ck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-year-old girl with autism and a 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

Connect with Penelope Ward

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Other standalones from Penelope Ward:

Drunk Dial:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2fXfzKn
iBooks: http://apple.co/2tq7dRz
Nook: http://bit.ly/2xeEH2H
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ihXnMD

Mack Daddy:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWzE1S
iBooks: http://apple.co/2iNrIPj
Nook: http://hyperurl.co/aiypfj
Kobo: http://hyperurl.co/r3hv19

Stepbrother Dearest:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1mFNMeg
iBooks: http://bit.ly/YER0mT
Nook: http://bit.ly/1taMFjG
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1fJaaBs

Neighbor Dearest:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2aWvypX
iBooks: http://apple.co/29mC6L8
Nook: http://bit.ly/2akQ2aq
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2axt1SY

RoomHate:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/294lIeT  iBooks: http://apple.co/1PgsvE7
Nook: http://bit.ly/1PLGnSL
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1POvSnW

Dear Bridget, I Want You: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://smarturl.it/kh2bxf
iBooks: http://smarturl.it/y4x3xi Nook: http://smarturl.it/o780mb Kobo: http://smarturl.it/kfgc6a
Mister Moneybags: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ny7GhN
iBooks: http://smarturl.it/3y1tuq
Nook: http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m
Kobo: http://smarturl.it/qqf5ho

Playboy Pilot: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2dbetFA iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf Nook: http://bit.ly/2c9vRdV
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ctb6dv

Stuck-Up Suit: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1S3LnpZ
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57
Nook: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/stuck-up-suit

Cocky Bastard: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1MvHLg2
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PffE2J
Nook: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO
Sins of Sevin:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1F9tbc3
iBooks: http://apple.co/1K8mzGg
Nook: http://bit.ly/1hTKAKE
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1OaGY3D

Jake Undone (Jake #1):
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1dJrHBC
Nook: http://bit.ly/1obAwJ6
iBooks: http://apple.co/1fJayQ8
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1SPKl0M

Jake Understood (Jake #2):
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GFdves
Nook: http://bit.ly/1FwJC0z
iBooks: http://apple.co/1DQQwgC
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1LQ7Fvk

My Skylar
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1obOG2F
iBooks: http://bit.ly/SLNOTR
Nook: http://bit.ly/SLO1qi
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1kNrtAB

Gemini:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1vgk1SE
Nook: http://bit.ly/1KfmLHD
iBooks: http://apple.co/1QTaONj
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1BGJ2wu

Excerpt Reveal….Up In Smoke by T.M. Frazier

Up in Smoke, an all-new gritty standalone romance by T.M. Frazier is coming February 19th, 2018!

Synopsis

I’m a man without a conscience.

I deal in murder and mayhem.

I’m the best at what I do.

Frankie Helburn is supposed to be an easy job.

A means to flush her father out of hiding.

Simple.

Except there isn’t anything simple about Frankie or the secrets she’s keeping.

She’s stubborn as hell and the sexiest god damn thing I have ever seen, sending dark, dirty animalistic desire coursing through my veins.

She’s cocaine with legs. A f*cking addiction that makes me question things I’ve never questioned before. Want things I’ve never wanted before.

I might have her, but she isn’t mine to keep.

If her father doesn’t show his face, she will be mine.

To KILL.

** Other books in the King Series DO NOT have to be read to enjoy Smoke’s book. Up in Smoke can be read as a standalone. **

Excerpt:

“All these bruises,” Smoke muses. “And not one of them caused by me.” He trails a hand up my arms and down my flat stomach. “Pity, but I still have time to leave my mark on you yet.”

My entire body stiffens. I’m as rigid as a corpse.

Smoke chuckles and I’m glad I’m facing away because his laugh is pure torture, causing his erection to vibrate against my folds which are aching for more contact.

“You will be punished, hellion. You can be sure of that.”

I look over my shoulder and meet his dark eyes which darken even further as his pupils dilate. His lingering gaze rakes me over from my feet to my breasts and back down to the space between my thighs. He licks his full bottom lip.

My stomach flips. My will to fight him off doesn’t waiver, but my body isn’t getting the message. My core clenches again. I turn back around to face the tile, digging my teeth into my lower lip until I taste my own blood.

His chest presses against my back, and his hardness pulses between my legs, rubbing against my inner thighs. He squirts some shampoo in his hand, working it into my hair. He tilts my head back and rinses my hair then slides his slick and soapy hand down my body.

I’m breathing rapidly now. Short quick breaths I can’t control. There’s a deep rumble in his throat. His hand travels lower and lower on my stomach until it’s between my legs. He’s working his thumb over my swollen nub, sending sparks of need, pangs of pleasure, and a wave of self-hatred, surging within my battered body and bruised soul.

“What…what are you doing?” I ask, seeing flashes of white hot lust behind my closed eyes.

“More questions…” his voice a hearty amused rasp. His fingers circle my clit while he continues to rock his hard cock between my legs. The pressure building is so strong it borders on painful.

Tears leak from my eyes. I’m so fucking mad at myself for being turned on. For Smoke being right. I’m so wet. He feels it. There’s no way he can’t feel it.

He leans in close. I’m stone still except for the tremors gripping my body. He licks the tear off my cheek and groans. He dips the tip of his finger inside of me and I tighten around the intrusion. It’s a foreign sensation. Strange. It feels both wrong and right. Pleasurable and painful. “Your tight little pussy is weeping too. I wonder if its tears taste the same.”

I look over my shoulder as he withdraws his finger and sucks it into his mouth. He groans. “Fear or desire. They both taste real fuckin’ good to me.”

He places his hand back between my legs. When I try to squeeze my thighs together to keep him out he parts them with his knee on a grunt and begins circling my clit again. This time harder. Faster.

I’m staying as still as I can, but when I feel something begin to happen inside my body. The sparks he ignited within me are all crashing together. I can’t hold back. My face scrunches as I try to fight the orgasm fighting its way out, but it’s no use. I can’t fight it. It’s too fucking strong. I’m so fucking close.

I arch my back without thinking, pressing my ass against him, begging for more. For what I need to push me over the edge.

Smoke hisses. “Oh, what I could do to this beautiful little pussy.”

The pleasure builds and builds as he strokes me harder. Faster. I’m about to come all over his fingers when the feeling is lost.

I spin around.

Smoke is gone.

I can’t see through the steam so I shut off the spray and wipe the water from my eyes only to see Smoke toweling off in front of the sink on the other side of the bathroom.

The only proof I have of what just happened between us was real is his cock. Erect. Thick. Huge. The purplish swollen head bobs against his abs, jutting out over the top of the towel he wraps around his waist.

“What…what just happened?” I stammer, leaning back against the wall for support.

Smoke steps forward, and when I go to jerk back, he reaches out and pinches my nipple painfully hard. I yelp and leap back, slipping on the tile, falling on my ass, taking the shower curtain down with me.

Smoke rips the curtain off my head and glares down at me with a triumphant grin on his evil beautiful face. “What just happened was called punishment and you got off easy. Next time I’ll split that tight pussy in two with my fucking cock.”

He goes to leave but stops. “You want pain?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you. You want pleasure? Now that’s something you’re gonna have to earn.”

He leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I release a shaky exhale.

I’d hoped the rest of my time with Smoke would be tolerable, but there’s no fucking way that’s going to happen. Not now. Not with my skin crawling with need. I’m losing my mind. About where I am. About what this is all about. About this beautiful horrible evil man.

I feel like I’ve already been split in two.

What Smoke is doing to me is far more than punishment.

It’s pure fucking torture.

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About the Author:

T.M.Frazier is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and her young daughter.

When she’s not writing she loves talking to her readers, country music, reading and traveling. Her debut novel, The Dark Light of Day was published in September of 2013 and when she started writing it she intended for it to be a light beachy romance.

Well…it has a beach in it!

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Excerpt Reveal….Follow Me Back by A.L. Jackson

Follow Me Back

The next seductive, unforgettable stand-alone romance in the FIGHT FOR ME series from NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson . . .

Coming February 5th

“This is why I read romance.” – Lauren Rowe, USA Today and International Bestselling Author

The next seductive, unforgettable stand-alone romance in the FIGHT FOR ME series from NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson . . .

Kale Bryant. Arrogant. Gorgeous. Commanding.

This ER doctor is married to his job. His only vice is one-night stands and short-lived flings. He learned a long time ago loving someone isn’t worth the risk.

Harley Hope Masterson. Beautiful. Brave. Sweet.

The owner of a small coffee shop knows what it’s like to struggle. Embroiled in a bitter divorce, she’s threatened with losing everything.

When Kale accepts a new position down the street from Hope’s shop, he begins to question every wall he’s built around his heart.

He wants her in a way he hasn’t wanted anyone.

One touch is fire.

One kiss, and he’s spinning out of control.

But taking her won’t come without consequences.

Hope is in for the fight of her life. One neither of them saw coming.

Now Kale must decide if loving her is worth risking it all.

She will fight with everything she has.

But sometimes even hope needs a hero . . .

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EXCERPT

I watched him stride across the café toward the door, hating the way everything tightened when he did.

His or mine, I wasn’t sure.

But it was there.

Heavy.

Pressing on my heart.

I couldn’t stop from watching him through the big windows as he started down the sidewalk, the man a scorching silhouette in the blaze of the day.

But he didn’t climb into his car that was parked at the curb.

He began to pace.

A pace that looked like indecision and turmoil.

Back and forth right on the other side of the window.

His head tilted back toward the sky, as if it might hold an answer, before he set his coffee and the lollipops down on one of the open tables, dug in his pocket, and pulled out his phone.

“You’re an idiot,” Jenna hissed from beside me. “That guy likes you, and he’s literally the hottest thing to ever walk through that door. And he bought All. The. Lollipops.”

Maybe that was part of the problem.

“I don’t get simple,” was my response.

“What if he doesn’t want simple?”

I would have answered her, told her that in the end, everyone did. They always took the easy way out when the going got tough. Except the café phone rang. I moved for it, thankful for the distraction, something to keep my feet from rounding the counter and running after him.

Because what the hell would that accomplish?

I lifted the receiver from the wall and pressed it to my ear. “A Drop of Hope. How can I help you?”

“Go out with me.” His gravelly voice echoed through the line.

A surprised sound whispered from my lips, and Kale was suddenly at the window, his face pressed to the glass, hand shading his eyes so he could see inside. His other hand was holding his cell to his ear. “Go out with me, Hope. Just dinner. Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you. Couldn’t after I saw you the first time at Olive’s on Friday night. It only got worse after I saw you here Monday morning. I don’t know what it is about you . . . but there’s something that makes me want to figure it out.”

My breaths were hard pants, my heart a jackhammer in my chest. “My life’s complicated, Kale.”

“And I’m offering you a night away from it. Don’t you at least deserve that?”

I wanted to beg him, what then? What happened if I fell for that smirk and that smile and those tender eyes?

Fast and hard?

I could already feel myself slipping. My heart tipping his direction.

What happened if Dane found out?

What then?

But I was so tired of that man controlling every aspect of my life, even after I’d made the decision to cut him from it.

Jenna was suddenly in my face, gripping my wrist, her voice a hard, demanding whisper. “You tell him yes, Harley Hope. Don’t you dare hang up that phone without telling him yes. You deserve something just for you. Just for you.”

Indecision swarmed, questions and worries and want.

But it was the feeling balled in my stomach that trembled the floor beneath my feet.

The urge to reach out and touch on the beauty and tenderness that swam in his eyes. To discover if it was real.

The throb of desire that begged, a whisper in my ear that goaded—just one touch.

The hidden need to feel those hands skating my flesh.

I guessed I’d thought I’d never crave that again, my life fulfilled, my spirit content in knowing I was living for what was right.

Jenna squeezed tighter, my bossy best friend mouthing the word as she angled her head with the demand. “Say yes.”

It was at the same second Kale fisted his hand against the window, his forehead rocking against it, his own words a petition. “Come on, Hope. Say yes. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

A hint of playfulness came out on the last, but it didn’t matter, because I was agreeing.

“Yes,” I murmured, wanting to feel something good even though I wasn’t so much a fool that I didn’t know I was making a mistake. That in the end, it wouldn’t hurt.

Because it already felt as if this mattered.

As if he mattered.

“Okay. One night. Just dinner,” I reiterated.

He breathed out in what sounded like relief. “Just dinner.”

As if anything could ever be as simple as that.

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Giveaway

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, and BLEEDING STARS novels. Watch for A.L. Jackson’s upcoming novel, FOLLOW ME BACK, the second stand-alone novel in her brand-new FIGHT FOR ME SERIES.

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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Reluctantly Royal by Gillian Archer…Excerpt Reveal

RELUCTANTLY ROYAL

By Gillian Archer

On Sale January 16th | Ballantine/Loveswept

Officially, the world knows me as His Royal Highness Prince Lucien of Monaco, but you can call me Luc. A long time ago, I vowed never to let my heritage stand in the way of a good time. Now the party’s over.

With the death of my father and my twin brother, I’ve lost a part of my soul—and my freedom. My heartless older brother tells me that not only do I have to settle down, I need to marry a girl with the right bloodlines. AKA, a princess. Yeah, I’ll get right on that . . . after one last trip to Vegas.

That’s where I meet Hannah. Not only is she gorgeous and down-to-earth, she reminds me what it’s like to live completely in the moment. Plus she has no idea who I really am. Hanging out with the locals, I feel like I can just be myself again. Besides, our chemistry is undeniable—especially after we take things to the next level.

What happens in Vegas is special, and I don’t want it to stay there. But I’ve been keeping a secret that will tear us apart. The last thing I expect, though? Hannah’s been keeping a secret of her own . . . one that might just bring us together.

Reluctantly Royal

Ballantine Group; Loveswept | On Sale: January 16th, 2018 | ISBN: 978152479171 | Pages 250 | Price: $4.99

Reluctantly Royal By Gillian Archer

Excerpt

With a song like “Sexyback” playing, I thought we’d be grinding against each other, all full of sexual tension and steps away from going home together.

Not so much.

Hannah bounced around the small dance floor with her hands over her head, apparently without a care in the world. It felt like the entire bar was watching us, but Hannah didn’t seem to notice. She bounced and gyrated and yelled the lyrics along with the tone-deaf singer on stage. She was pure joy and didn’t appear to have a single worry. It was intoxicating and impossible to ignore.

Not that Hannah would let me just stand there and watch her dance.

On her second trip bopping around the dance floor, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her insanity. In seconds I was laughing, gyrating alongside her. Dancing like this was so far outside my comfort level, but I don’t think I’d ever enjoyed myself so much in my life.

All too soon the song ended, and I found myself breathing a bit harder than before and staring into her hazel eyes. “That was . . . fun.”

“You’ve got some moves. I wasn’t sure at first—you were just standing there like a bump on a log. But once you loosened up—”

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off as the karaoke host took over the mic. “That’s it for me. Thanks for partying with me tonight. I’m gonna leave you with the sultry sounds of Beyoncé’s “Naughty Girl” as I pack up, and then it’s the digital jukebox after that. Night, all!”

The guy had the balls to wink at me as the music started.

Hannah burst out laughing. “I think he’s playing my song.”

“It would be rude to disappoint him.”

She lifted her hands over her head again and started to do this hip-shake thing that immediately got my dick hard.

I shook my head and grabbed her hand to pull her to me. “This time we’re dancing my way.”

Hannah laughed as she fell into my arms, but she didn’t complain or protest. No, she did that hip-shaking thing against my body. I groaned and ground my hard dick into her soft belly. Hannah made a soft keening sound, then burrowed her head into my chest.

“Not so funny now,” she murmured.

I hummed in reply as I tried to get my dick under control. But it was no use; Hannah was just too fucking hot in my arms. Instead I brushed the hair off her face. Merde, she was gorgeous.

She looked up at me with a question in her eyes.

So I answered it by ducking my head and covering her lips with mine. Her body went rigid for a second, then melted in my arms as my lips coaxed a response from her. Then it was she who was the aggressor. She buried a hand in my hair and held me firmly against her. My scalp tinged with pain, and I’d be damned if I’d let her take the lead either on the dance floor or with our sexual chemistry. My tongue probed the seam of her lips until she opened her mouth to me. I quickly lead her in a parry and thrust motion that I couldn’t wait to repeat with other parts of our anatomy later.

. . . Or now, but for the fact that we had an audience.

It was that last thought, combined with the faint roaring of a crowd, that drew me out of our hormone-induced fog. And I became aware of the fact that the Beyoncé song was over and a rowdy crowd of soldiers at a table near us were cheering on our floor show.

Hannah registered our audience a second later than I and pulled away, ending our kiss. She buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking. I had a second to wonder how I was going to calm her down when I realized she wasn’t crying.

She was laughing.

After a beat Hannah stepped away from me, turned, and dropped into a theatrical curtsy to the whooping table of soldiers.

I shook my head and laughed. My eyes met Nicolas’s across the room; despite the distance, I could read the disapproval in his expression. My chief bodyguard wasn’t as capable as Dimitri at hiding his expressions.

Not that I gave a fuck.

I turned to the soldiers’ table and did a little bow of my own, then grabbed Hannah’s hand and pulled her to me just as a new-to-me slow techno song started to play.

This time Hannah let me lead her as we swayed on the dance floor. She looked up at me with laughing eyes. “I kinda forgot where we were for a second. Good thing we really didn’t give them a floor show.”

“What was it you said to me a few minutes ago? Wh—”

“Wanna get your sexy on?” Hannah interjected.

“No.” I laughed. “But I guess that works, too. I was thinking when you asked me: ‘Who said tonight was over?’”

“Hmmmm.” Hannah smiled up at me. “Well, one, I don’t do public displays of affection. Usually. And two, I never have sex on the first date.”

“Wait, that’s a lot for me to process in my second language. You’re considering this a first date?”

“Maybe. I guess we’ll have to see how it goes. It could be our first date. Could be our last date.”

“No pressure.”

“Exactly. Just so you know, I’m grading your every move.”

Christ, she was hot. And challenging. And complex. Somehow I didn’t think I’d be able to figure her out in just one week. A girl like her would take time. Time I sadly didn’t have.

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About the Author

Gillian Archer has a bachelor’s degree in mining engineering but prefers to spend her time on happily ever after. She writes the kind of stories she loves to read—the hotter the better! When she’s not pounding away on the keyboard, she can be found surfing the couch, indulging in her latest reality TV fixation, or baking something ridiculously tasty (and horrible for her waist line). Gillian Archer lives in the wilds of Nevada with her amazing husband, gorgeous new baby, and two goofy dogs.