Category: Excerpt

Wyoming Brave by Diana Palmer…Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Synopsis:

The Wyoming men are back! In their quest for true love on the range, are these ranchers bold enough to open their hearts to the women under their protection?

Ren Colter may own an enormous ranch in Wyoming, but he scorns his wealth. He’s closed himself off since his fiancée left him years ago, so he’s shocked when he allows Meredith Grayling to stay with him. He tells himself it’s only to protect the blonde beauty from a stalker, but Ren’s alpha instincts soon kick in.

The last thing Merrie wants is a devastatingly handsome man like Ren lurking around her. He’s too experienced, too appealing for her already shot nerves. What she needs is just to get away from it all: the man haunting her waking dreams and the one hunting her like an animal. But no woman escapes this Colter cowboy!

Excerpt:

Delsey showed Merrie to her room. “I’ll have one of the boys bring your luggage up. It’s still sitting in the hall where Randall left it.” She paused. “Don’t let Ren upset you,” she added gently. “He’s hard on people he doesn’t know. Especially women. He had a bad expe­rience. It’s made him cold.”

“I won’t bother him,” Merrie promised. “I brought my sketchbooks and my knitting. I’ll keep busy.”

“Good. If you need anything, I’m usually in the kitchen or somewhere in the house. There are helpers who come on certain days to help me with the heavy stuff. I’m feeling my age a little, but Ren likes the way I cook,” she said with a laugh.

Merrie drew in a long breath. “Our housekeeper, Mandy, taught me to cook. She even taught me how to cut up a chicken and field dress game.” She laughed softly. “I love being in the kitchen, too.”

“I’ll let you help, after you’ve been here a bit.” Her wise dark eyes searched Merrie’s. “It’s a stalker, isn’t it? Randall told me.”

Merrie hesitated. “I don’t want to put anyone in harm’s way…”

“Ren has this place protected like it was Fort Knox,” Delsey told her. “Nobody gets in here without secu­rity clearance. Did you notice the cameras at the front gate when you came in?” Merrie nodded. She con­tinued. “We even have facial recognition software. It tracks people.”

“Wow,” Merrie said softly.

“Sadly, it didn’t work on the cowboy who beat that poor horse.” She winced. “Hurricane was the sweet­est gelding on the place. It breaks my heart to see what that man did to him.” She drew in a breath. “If he keeps this up, they’ll have to put him down.” She bit her lip, then forced a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack.” She looked out the door and peered over the banis­ter. “Brady!” she called. “Can you bring those bags up here?”

“Sure thing, Miss Delsey,” the cowboy said with a long drawl.

He brought the bags up the staircase to Merrie’s room.

“Thanks,” she said softly, with a smile.

Brady tipped his hat. He was Delsey’s age, but was wiry and tough and apparently very strong. He grinned at Merrie. “You Mr. Randall’s friend that come to stay awhile?” he asked.

“Yes, I am. I’m Merrie. Nice to meet you, Brady.”

“Nice to meet you, too, miss.” He turned to Delsey.

“Willis wants to know if you’ll make the men a cake.”

“I will,” Delsey replied. “What kind do they want?”

“Chocolate, with that white frosting you make.”

“I’ll start on it right now.” She turned to Merrie. “Have you had lunch?”

“Yes, thanks,” Merrie told her. “Randall got me a cheeseburger and fries on the way here.”

“Okay, then. Supper’s at seven. Ren keeps late hours. Sometimes he doesn’t even show up for sup­per. Like tonight. He told me to leave cold cuts in the fridge, which means he probably won’t get home until bedtime.”

“Ranching is hard on schedules,” Brady said with a chuckle. “Especially for boss man. He has to be ev­erywhere before the bad weather coming.”

“I called that contractor,” Delsey added to Brady. “If you see Ren, tell him the man’s coming tomorrow morning to see what work needs doing.”

“I’ll tell him.” He tipped his hat again. “See you girls later.”

Merrie grinned. Delsey just laughed.

“He’s nice,” Merrie said.

“They mostly are. But we have a few who work security here,” she added solemnly. “One of them is dangerous. He came to us from Iraq, where he’d been training policemen. We don’t know much about him. He keeps to himself most of the time when he’s not watching the livestock.”

“Who is he?” Merrie asked curiously.

“They call him J.C. Nobody knows what the ini­tials stand for.”

“I’ll stay out of his way,” Merrie promised. She stretched. The gold chain around her neck chafed a little. She pulled out the pretty filigree gold cross she wore and dangled it on her sweatshirt.

Delsey grimaced. She wanted to warn the girl, but she didn’t want to make her more nervous than she already was. Ren wouldn’t like that cross. It would prod him, like waving a flag at a bull. But maybe he wouldn’t see it.

She smiled at Merrie and left her alone to unpack.

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About the author:

Diana Palmer is a pseudonym for author Susan Kyle.

(1)romance author
Susan Eloise Spaeth was born on 11 December 1946 in Cuthbert, Georgia, USA. She was the eldest daughter of Maggie Eloise Cliatt, a nurse and also journalist, and William Olin Spaeth, a college professor. Her mother was part of the women’s liberation movement many years before it became fashionable. Her best friends are her mother and her sister, Dannis Spaeth (Cole), who now has two daughters, Amanda Belle Hofstetter and Maggie and lives in Utah. Susan grew up reading Zane Grey and fell in love with cowboys. Susan is a former newspaper reporter, with sixteen years experience on both daily and weekly newspapers. Since 1972, she has been married to James Kyle and have since settled down in Cornelia, Georgia, where she started to write romance novels. Susan and her husband have one son, Blayne Edward, born in 1980.

She began selling romances in 1979 as Diana Palmer. She also used the pseudonyms Diana Blayne and Katy Currie, and her married name: Susan Kyle. Now, she has over 40 million copies of her books in print, which have been translated and published around the world. She is listed in numerous publications, including Contemporary Authors by Gale Research, Inc., Twentieth Century Romance and Historical Writers by St. James Press, The Writers Directory by St. James Press, the International Who’s Who of Authors and Writers by Meirose Press, Ltd., and Love’s Leading Ladies by Kathryn Falk. Her awards include seven Waldenbooks national sales awards, four B. Dalton national sales awards, two Bookrak national sales awards, a Lifetime Achievement Award for series storytelling from Romantic Times, several Affaire de Coeur awards, and two regional RWA awards.

Inspired by her husband, who quit a blue-collar manufacturing job to return to school and get his diploma in computer programming, Susan herself went back to college as a day student at the age of 45. In 1995, she graduated summa cum laude from Piedmont College, Demorest, GA, with a major in history and a double minor in archaeology and Spanish. She was named to two honor societies (the Torch Club and Alpha Chi), and was named to the National Dean’s List. In addition to her writing projects, she is currently working on her master’s degree in history at California State University. She hopes to specialize in Native American studies. She is a member of the Native American Rights Fund, the American Museum of Natural History, the National Cattlemen’s Association, the Archaeological Institute of Amenca, the Planetary Society, The Georgia Conservancy, the Georgia Sheriff’s Association, and numerous conservation and charitable organizations. Her hobbies include gardening, archaeology, anthropology, iguanas, astronomy and music.

In 1998, her husband retired from his own computer business and now pursues skeet shooting medals in local, state, national and international competition. They love riding around and looking at the countryside, watching sci-fi on TV and at the movies, just talking and eating out.

Satisfaction by Lexi Blake…Release Day Blitz & Review

The sizzling second novel in a sexy new contemporary romance series featuring the Lawless siblings—from New York Times bestselling author Lexi Blake.

Brandon Lawless is a man on a mission: obtain the information that will clear his father’s name. He’s willing to do whatever it takes—even seduce his enemy’s personal assistant, the beautiful and innocent Carly Hendricks. But with her beguiling smile and captivating intelligence, Brandon soon realizes he doesn’t want to deceive Carly, he wants to win her over—both in the boardroom and the bedroom.

Then a twisted crime leaves Carly vulnerable and Brandon finds himself reeling. The stakes of his mission are now life or death—Carly’s life. And Brandon realizes he’s lost his heart to an amazing woman and his plan must succeed, because the stakes are no longer just revenge, but a once in a lifetime love.

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Oh Lexi Blake, how do I love thee?!?!  Let me count the ways……oh wait, we don’t have all day for that.  But let me tell you, that list is incredibly long!!

Lexi never ceases to amaze me with her talent.  Her books are never repetitive of any previous plots or scenarios.  And I love that we see the awesome characters from her other series (Masters and Mercenaries).  And she gives us just enough information to give us an idea on who they are, but also gives us the perfect combination of curiosity with a hint of hidden persuasion to have us wanting to go read that series. 

But back to the book.  Satisfaction is book #2 in Lexi’s Lawless series and it’s just as good as the first one.  This book is about Brandon (Bran) and Carly.  The Lawless family is still going after the people who murdered their family and their next target is Patricia Cain, Carly’s boss.  But Brandon doesn’t want to use another person in their game of revenge and throws a few curve balls into Drew’s plans by meeting Carly first.

We met Bran in the first book and know he has this sort of hero complex where he wants to help the damsels in distress.  But Carly isn’t exactly the same woman he’s used to going after.  And Bran is completely different from the rest of his family because of his experience in the foster care system.

I love the chemistry between Bran and Carly. And their entire relationship is built differently.  They are both coming at this with a means to an end.  But when things get more involved than they anticipated, they both need to face their problems one way or another.  One thing I loved about these two was their honesty with each other.  I think that really add to their connection and made their story so much more.

Lexi has this unique way of combining her suspenseful writing with her romance.  Neither is out of sorts and they both blend perfectly giving us this amazing story.  Lexi gives her characters some complexity to them and you always are able to connect to them and they become so real to you. 

And of course, just when I think Lexi has given us every twist or surprise we can think of, she goes and throws us a huge cliffhanger that leaves me jaw smashing into the ground….where it will stay until I get the next book.

EXCERPT

 

“Are you absolutely sure you want to stay here?” Carly frowned as she brought out a blanket twenty minutes later. “The couch is pretty small. I’m not sure you’ll be comfortable on it.”

Bran was one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t be, but that wasn’t the point. He tugged his shirt over his head and folded it neatly. “I’ve slept in worse places. And I think it’s best I stay here tonight. Unless you want to come home with me.”

He knew she wasn’t going to take that option, but it would be nice. If Drew and Riley and Hatch met her, got to know her, they wouldn’t be so worried about her. All he’d had to do was spend a couple of hours with her to know that she was a deeply loyal woman. All he needed to do was prove he was worthy of that loyalty. She’d been bitten before and she was shy, but the man who gained her trust again would get everything from her.

She deserved to have someone who would watch her back, and that included ensuring that she could sleep the rest of the night. What little of it was left.

If someone showed up on her doorstep, he would take care of them. As viciously as he possibly could. He still intended to write her that check. He would do it because it would bring her peace of mind, but he was going to make sure none of them ever threatened her again. He would handle them in a way that would ensure her safety.

She shook her head. “You said your place is out in Palm Coast. That’s forty minutes away. I have to be at work pretty early in the morning.” She turned and started working on the couch, but not before he’d caught her staring at his chest. She smoothed out a sheet over the leather. “Why all the way out there? Why wouldn’t you set up here in St. Augustine?”

He would have to thank his brother-in-law for all the workouts. It was how they’d bonded. Case Taggart liked to lift weights and he’d brought Bran into his daily routine the last time he was in town. It wasn’t like Bran had been out of shape before, but Case’s daily regime had taken his lanky frame and honed it to something strong and masculine. He wished he could tell her how soft and sexy she looked in her pj’s. She had a robe wrapped around her, but every now and then it slipped open, revealing creamy skin and breasts he would love to get his hands on. He’d spent the majority of his evening watching women strip, but it was Carly in her pink tank top and perfectly respectable pajama bottoms that had his cock engaged. “We have some friends who have a condo out there and it’s outfitted with the best tech possible both computer-wise and security. Also, we thought it would be best if we were close but not too close. Patricia knew our parents quite well. One new person in her life who reminds her of old enemies won’t cause too much stress but if she were to see me and Drew, or worse, Hatch, she would definitely be suspicious. We’re simply being careful.”

“You have your mother’s coloring, but you don’t really look like her. You look more like your dad,” Carly said as she worked a pillow into a soft-looking pillowcase.

“I’m taller than he was, a bit more built. I looked more like him when I was smaller. Take off about thirty pounds of muscle, cut my hair into a military buzz, and put some glasses on me, and I look quite like him. Of course I’ve been told my father had an air of unmistakable genius about him that I don’t have.” Not that Hatch had put it that way. He’d explained that most people didn’t remember Benedict for his looks. They remembered his brilliant brain. “Drew is most like him. Another reason I thought it was better for me to go in instead of him. I think Drew would remind Patricia of our father.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s not very observant. One of the things you need to know about her is that she’s a narcissist. She doesn’t care about anything but herself and her bottom line.” She looked up at him. “Your brother is the man behind 4L?”

Naturally everyone was impressed with a thirty-four-year-old billionaire. “He is. I need you to understand that we have resources that we’ll use to take care of you. You’ll have a job at 4L if you want one. I’ll promise you that right now.”

“You need a personal assistant?” she said, her lips curling slightly.

He frowned because he hadn’t thought she’d ask that question. “No. I don’t really need one, but I promise I’ll find something for you. You won’t be left out in the cold. 4L is a big company and we own a lot of other companies. You would have your pick.”

Actually, Ellie could use a new PA. That wouldn’t be a bad fit. Ellie would be good to Carly and Bran spent a lot of time in New York. He could see her from time to time. He would have to think about it. He didn’t mention it, though, because Ellie’s last assistant had been brutally murdered in front of her. It wouldn’t give Carly great faith in them as a group.

She settled the pillow down and smoothed out the blanket. “I don’t know how I feel about a new job. Not that I’m not happy at the thought of keeping my house, but being a personal assistant wasn’t exactly my life plan. I wanted to write cookbooks. Well, I wanted to start out by editing them and work my way up.”

“It sounds like you want to be a chef.”

Her head shook slightly. “No. It’s different. I don’t want my own restaurant or to be in charge of a kitchen. I want to work at a lifestyle magazine. I love looking at decorating trends and cooking trends. A chef tends to focus on one type of cuisine. I want to try them all, not necessarily be a master at them. I like making people comfortable. At my heart, I’m a homemaker.”

Her home was lovely. The minute he’d walked in he’d felt a certain peace rush over him and not simply because the space was well decorated. Carly herself made a person feel at home.

Even when she was crying on his shoulder. She would probably run as fast as she could if she knew how much that had fed his soul. It wasn’t that he liked watching her cry. He’d enjoyed knowing he was helping her. He’d loved the way she’d clung to him, her arms tight around his body.

He probably shouldn’t tell her that, either.

 

 

NY Times and USA Today bestselling author Lexi Blake lives in North Texas with her husband, three kids, and the laziest rescue dog int eh world. She began writing at a young age, concentrating on plays and journalism. It wasn’t until she started writing romance and urban fantasy that she found the stories of her heart. She likes to find humor in the strangest places and believes in happy endings no matter how odd the couple, threesome, or foursome may seem.

Rather Be Wrong by Debra Kayn…Release Blitz with Excerpt

 

 

Title: Rather Be Wrong
Series: Ronacks Motorcycle Club #3
Author: Debra Kayn
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Suspense/MC Romance
Release Date: January 3, 2017
Blurb
Growing up with an absentee father never prepared her for the dysfunctional family journey she finds herself living.Heather Jones is settling in Montana as if her dad had never left her, the club had always been her family, and the women at Pine Bar and Grill were her life-long friends. Meeting Rod, the sexiest biker of Ronacks, distracts her in the most delicious way from the heartache she knows is coming. Because eventually, everyone she loves always ends up leaving her.

Only he can keep her alive.

As vice president of Ronacks Motorcycle Club, Rod wanted Heather the moment her fist hit his mouth. He should’ve known better than to believe the danger spinning around him wouldn’t touch her. All the weapons, high security, and even his club can’t protect Heather against the storm.

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Excerpt

 

The light in her eyes turned to concern and puckered her brows. “Are you okay?”His heart drummed inside of him, and he moistened his lips. Taken aback, he’d never had anyone ask him that question and feel like they honestly wanted to know the answer.

He nodded. “I’m good. A little stiff and sore but good.”

Heather shook her head and leaned closer to the table, reaching for his hand. He crossed his arms.

“Don’t be like that,” she whispered. “I care about you.”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t care?”

“Shit is going on, Heather. You look out for yourself and stay away from me.” His rapid heartbeat made his chest hurt, and he forced a deeper breath inside of him. “I shouldn’t have played around with you. You’re a good woman.”

“And, what? You’re a bad man?” Heather smirked. “Give that story to someone else. Whatever is going on with you has everything to do with you being attacked. It’s not about how I enjoy your company, and you’ve shown me you’re interested.”

“Like I said, you’re a good—”

“I am.” She stood from the table, stepped toward him, and bent down. “You’re also good. That doesn’t mean I’ll let you act like an asshole toward me. Go home, get some rest, and for God’s sake, take care of yourself.”

She kissed the top of his head, shocking him. All he could do was sit there and watch her walk up to the group of women across the room and join their conversation. She’d spoken words as if ordering him around and yet delivered them softly he could still feel the vibration of warmth she’d left behind in his chest. That feeling had him feeling better than he’d felt since he got his ass handed to him.

Heather leaned forward. Her hard, round ass pressed tight against her jeans. He stretched his leg out, leaned back in the chair, and wondered if Heather was aware of him ogling her. She shifted her hips side to side and then straightened, tilting back her head, and drinking from a bottle of beer.

Not from a glass, which Gia preferred.

Not a mixed drink, which Jana consumed.

No, Heather wrapped her slim fingers around the cold bottle and drank as if she enjoyed simply putting her lips on the glass.

Rod brushed the back of his hand across his lips. He’d taken things slow and gotten to know her without putting any demands on her and had enjoyed every fucking minute of frustration.

He hadn’t planned a relationship with Heather. It happened the moment she’d stepped forward without stepping back and decked him in the mouth. Her strength surprised the shit out of him. Most people backed away.

Drawn to that strength, he discovered pure softness. It wasn’t easy to get behind the layer of safety she carried herself. Short on sharing and hesitant of his intentions, she’d slowly let down her guard until he was afraid of hurting her. Hurting Swiss. Hurting the club.

If he were a good man, he’d have her in his bed every night and keep her to himself because he hated the thought of one of his MC brothers having her. But even Heather could see he was an asshole at heart.

He had to be.

Because he was one.

He shook his head, looked away from the woman who made him forget and stood. It was time to get out of here and go find the person after him. He never once believed the attack was a random hit.

He wasn’t that lucky.

 

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Author Bio

 

Debra Kayn is the author of the Bestselling Bantorus MC series, Moroad MC series, Red Light: Silver Girls series, Hard Body series, Playing For hearts series, and a huge backlist of books.She lives with her family in the Bitterroot Mountains of beautiful Northern Idaho where she enjoys the outdoors, the four seasons, and small-town living.

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Hate Story by Nicole Williams….Blog Tour & Review

 

 

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Nina can’t let herself fall in love with the man she’s going to marry. Both of them have experienced the sting and sham of love and have no intentions of falling victim to it twice. Love is expensive—hate is free.

Three years. A million dollars. A solution to both of their problems. They planned it all, from the story of their first meeting to the date of their divorce. Nothing could go wrong.

But what they didn’t consider was chemistry, and Nina and Max have no shortage of it. After too many near-kisses, Nina convinces herself that hating Max is better than loving him, and the more she gets to know this soon-to-be-husband of hers, the more she discovers just how very much she truly, madly, and deeply . . . hates him.

This isn’t a love story. This is the other kind.
He hadn’t stopped smiling at me, and it wasn’t the friendly kind of smile. It was the kind that made it seem like he was in on some secret I wasn’t privy to. The kind of smile that made me feel like I was being trifled with and made the punch line of a hundred jokes I had yet to hear.
I wanted to wipe the cocky smile off his face, but that would have required touching him and even I wasn’t gutsy enough for that. A woman did not touch a guy like him unless she wanted him to be her undoing. Nope. You didn’t play with fire. You didn’t touch it. You didn’t even come close.
Fire. That was all I saw when I looked at him. I was playing with it by agreeing to this kind of arrangement with him.
Even the way he lounged in the chair was smug. Like it was his throne and he was just waiting for minions to come bow before him.
“You’re younger than I thought you’d be.” He broke the silence first.
Though it was faint, I could just make out an accent. It was European, but I couldn’t nail down the country. To look at the bastard, you’d think he was Scandinavian—blond hair, blue eyes, commanding frame—but his accent was too sharp to hail from the land of Vikings.
I was tempted to glare at the tipped smile aimed at me, but I didn’t want to lead him to the impression I cared. I gave him my version of the same smile, abandoning my “no expectations” policy for the prospect of pissing him off. “You’re older than I thought you’d be.”
His smile shifted into the realm of a smirk, like he knew I was lying. So yeah, maybe I was lying about thinking he was older, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of confirming his silent accusation. He was older than me, but not by much. He might have been closing in on thirty, but he wasn’t past it.
He leaned forward in the chair. When his gaze circled my face to my fiery red hair, his brow elevated. Yes, I am the stereotype. Be warned.
“Prettier too.”
I stiffened. He was fucking with me now. I’d already agreed to marry him. How much more did he think he could screw me over?
I gave him a cursory glance and kept the unaffected look on my face. “Uglier.”
He cocked a brow like he knew better. “And the personality of ten women rolled into one.”
“Intimidated?”
His head shook once. “Intrigued.”
“Irritated?”
His eyes investigated me again. It felt intrusive, definitely not cursory. “Impressed.”
“As impressed by me as the woman in heat who was just mauling you over by the bar?”
“You mean the woman who gave me this?” He pulled something out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and set it on the small table between us.
It was a hotel card key. With a lipstick kiss pressed into it.
“Classy place, this five-star hotel.” I glanced back at the woman at the bar. She was still there, watching him as though he was the height of the male species. “Did you tell her the reason you were here?”
His attention stayed on me. “Yes, I told her I was here to meet the woman I was going to marry.”
My stomach wrung. This was the man I was going to marry.
Holy shit.
“And she didn’t ask for her room key back?” I asked.
“She didn’t give it to me until right after I mentioned that.” His stare was intense. Too intense. I felt like every secret—every piece of who I was—was strewn out on that table for him to see. “Women love a man who isn’t afraid of commitment. It’s like an aphrodisiac.”
“You know what else women like?” I didn’t pause for an answer because I guessed he didn’t have a clue. “A man who’s humble.”
He fought a smile and leaned back in his chair when a server approached with a couple of drinks on a tray. “No, they like to think they do, but they don’t.” His head shook authoritatively. “They like the cocky bastard who goes after what he wants and doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Because the server was shielding some of me from his view, I allowed myself to shift. I was getting fired up, and if he kept saying the same kinds of things with the same kinds of looks on his face, that drink was going to wind up in his face.
That was when I noticed what the server had set in front of me. A tumbler with something amber in color. The same thing she was setting in front of him. Although from the curve of her smile, she was offering to give him a blow job on the side, compliments of the house.
“What is this?” I asked. Him. Her. Whoever wanted to answer.
“Scotch,” he answered, ignoring the server lingering between us.
My nose curled at the drink.
“Expensive scotch.”
“I don’t care if it came from the fountain of youth. I won’t drink it.”
His forehead creased with what appeared to be irritation, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was confusion, like he couldn’t decide what to make of me. “You would have me believe you wouldn’t take a sip of that if you knew it would give you eternal life?” When I shook my head, his head tipped. “Why?”
“Because I value my free will far more than long life.” I pushed the drink away until it clinked against his. “I’d rather live one day free than an eternity in a cage.”
He was quiet for a moment. The server stayed between us, staring at him, waiting.
“Then why are you here?” he asked me finally.
I leaned forward and hoped my stare was as powerful as his. “Because free will is expensive.”

 

Hate Story is most definitely not your typical love-hate story.  It’s Nina and Max’s story of Hate.
Nina and Max – I loved these two.  And not just together, but they are absolutely amazing by themselves.  And that’s what makes Hate Story so damn believable.
Nina is a very independent and strong woman.  She knows she’s in a bind and has no problem going to whatever depths it takes to get her out of it.  Including marrying a man she’s never met before.
Max has been biten in the ass by falling in love once before.  And he refuses to go down that rabbit hole again.  But he himself needs the help of a woman, one he will never have the chance of falling in love with.  Enter Nina.
These two are complete opposites for one another. And they definitely have no shortage of hate for the other.  They push each other’s buttons and truly just want to get through the next 3 years.  But sometimes life throws you a curve ball and everything that is so meticulously planned, goes down the drain.  And these find themselves in a predicament they never expected.
Nicole really knows how to write characters that you will find yourself connecting to so easily and quickly.  And you will find yourself so immersed into their story.  Nicole has a very unique way with writing her stories that you sometimes forget that you are just reading a book.
Another amazing hit for Nicole!!

 

 

 

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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.

 

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In Your Arms by Shannyn Schroeder…Virtual Book Tour with Excerpt

A KNIGHT IN SHINING LEATHER…
IN YOUR ARMS
For Your Love #2
Shannyn Schroeder
Releasing Dec 27th, 2016
Zebra Shout

 

A KNIGHT IN
SHINING LEATHER…
 
Sean O’Malley has never tried to
hide who he is. He shows it in the motorcycle thrumming between the legs of his
tight jeans…the shaggy hair that falls in his gorgeous eyes…the wicked gleam in
his smile when he asks Emma out for a drink. Sean is a rebel, a bad boy, and a
ton of fun: exactly the kind of guy she’s sworn off forever.
Emma isn’t just the prim
kindergarten teacher she appears to be. And somehow Sean can tell. As soon as
he pulls up to her overheated car he knows that a fast bike and a cold beer
will fix her rotten day better than compliments or a bubble bath. Her
straitlaced exterior and her wild heart light him up. But Emma wants to escape
her past and settle down—and if her desk jockey dates don’t understand where
she comes from, at least she doesn’t worry about them bringing her back.

 

One weekend of intense connection
can’t change the paths Sean and Emma have chosen. But with a little space to be
themselves together, maybe the rest of the world can wait…

Excerpt

They climbed back on the motorcycle and left the parking lot. Sean drove them into a quiet residential neighborhood of single-family homes. Not an apartment in sight. Her radar immediately pinged. This was not a guy who had his shit together enough to own a house.

She could write a book on how to pick up the man-boy. Sean parked and she shoved the thought away. This was about the weekend. About her getting what she wanted—no, needed—for the moment. Then she’d go back to her real life and look for what she should have. What she really wanted. At least find a guy who was adult enough to not live at home with mom.

Sean held her hand and pulled her to the back of the building. When he moved toward basement steps, she pulled from his grasp. “Where are we going?”

“My place.” He hitched his chin in the direction of the door. “My room’s in the basement.”

“What are you? Twelve?”

“My brother Tommy and I have it set up as our own place.”

She sighed. “Do you at least have your own bedroom? Or am I supposed to screw you with an audience?”

He laughed and reached for her hip. His voice dropped into the sexy range. “While I share a lot of things with my brother, a woman isn’t one.”

Then he turned and pushed her toward the steps leading upstairs. “We can have a drink upstairs first so you can see I’m not a crazy guy looking to lock you in my basement.”

She laughed a little at that. For a bad boy, Sean was pretty adept at reading things. He opened the back door and flicked on the light, flooding the kitchen. As he locked up, she saw how beat up his hand was. His knuckles were red and swollen.

She winced. “You should ice your hand.”

Sean reached into the refrigerator and handed her a bottle of beer. With his own bottle in one hand, he grabbed a bag of frozen green beans with the other. Emma took his beer from him and opened it.

He flexed his hand and looked at it as if he hadn’t noticed before. “No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. She’d been in similar situations too many times to recall. Her mom had taught her to smile and laugh it off, but Emma had never been able to do that. It rattled her every time. Memories of the guy pressing against her, trapping her, washed over her now. From deep in her bones, she felt every part of her start to tremble. To cover it, she gulped some beer.

She gripped the bottle tightly as she set it on the table and took a seat across from Sean. He watched her closely. “You sure that guy didn’t do anything to you? I mean, other than get in your face?”

She shook her head and didn’t like the way the room started to spin, so she answered, “No.”

“You look really upset.”

“I’m fine. Are we going downstairs or what?” Right now, she’d give almost anything to forget this day. She pushed off the table, wobblier than she’d thought she was.

Sean stood, still eyeing her, and tossed his vegetables back in the freezer. She finished her beer and suddenly realized the goldfish crackers she’d eaten in her car were the closest thing she’d had to dinner. No wonder the alcohol had hit so hard. Sean grabbed her hand and led her downstairs.

The basement was mostly unfinished. Concrete floor and walls. A washer and dryer sat against one side. Sean pulled her toward the back of the basement. Actually, the front of the house. There, crudely constructed walls divided the space.

He pointed toward the corner. “That’s the bathroom. Tommy’s room is next to it. This one’s mine,” he added with his hand on the doorknob.

She snickered. “This is your idea of having it set up like an apartment?”

“It’s better than a mattress on the floor or sleeping on the living room couch.”

The last remark hit home because that was exactly where she’d found Nicky more often than she cared to consider. So at least Sean was a step up from her loser brother.

Don’t miss the other FOR YOUR LOVE titles!

 


Shannyn
Schroeder is the author of the O’Leary series, contemporary
romances centered around a large Irish-American family in Chicago and the Hot
& Nerdy series about 3 nerdy friends finding love. Her new series (For Your
Love) will release this summer with the first title Under Your Skin. When she’s
not wrangling her three kids or writing, she watches a ton of TV and loves to
bake cookies.
 

 

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Freeks by Amanda Hocking…Blog Tour & Review

 

 

 

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EXCERPT

5. carnival

Unlike many of the other members of the sideshow, I didn’t have a specific job. My mom was a fortune- teller, Gideon did a magic show, Zeke had his tigers, Brendon and his family did acrobatics, Seth was a strongman. My best friend Roxie Smith was in two acts— she helped out Zeke, and did a peepshow revue with two other girls.

I had no talent. No special ability, making me essentially a roadie. I did what was needed of me, which usually involved helping set up and take down, and various menial tasks. I cleaned the tiger cages and emptied out latrines when I had to. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was crucial to our way of life.

Since Roxie worked with the tigers, Mahilā actually tolerated her. Roxie was helping me clean out the tiger cage they traveled in. The cage was open to a fenced-in enclosure Seth had built, so the tigers could roam as they pleased.

Safēda lounged in the grass, the sun shining brightly on her white fur. Whenever we stopped, Safēda seemed content to just lay in the sun, sleeping the entire time, but as the older tiger, it made sense.

Mahilā paced along the fence, occasionally emitting an irritated guttural noise in between casting furtive glances back toward Roxie and me. Her golden fur was mottled with scars from her past life in the abusive circus, including a nasty one that ran across her nose.

“So where did you go last night?” Roxie asked, her voice lilting in a sing song playful way. She was out in the run, using a hose to fill up a blue plastic kiddie pool so the tigers could play in it, while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing dung off the cage floor.

Her bleached blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the sleeves of her white T- shirt were rolled up, revealing her well-toned arms. The cut- off jean shorts she wore barely covered her bum, and her old cowboy boots went up to her knees— her chosen footwear anytime she was at risk of stepping in tiger poop.

With fair skin, full lips, large blue eyes, and a dainty nose, Roxie was pretty and deceptively tough. Being a beautiful carnie was not an easy job, and dancing in the revue under the stage name “Foxy Roxie” didn’t help that. But she made decent money doing it, and Roxie never put up with anybody’s crap. I’d seen her deck guys much bigger than her and lay them out flat on their backs.

“I was just at a party,” I said as I rinsed the brush off in a bucket of bleach and warm water.

“A party?” Roxie looked over at me with a hand on her hip.

“How’d you get invited to a party so fast?”

I shrugged. “I was just exploring town, and I saw some people hanging outside of this big house party, and they invited me in.”

“So what are the people like here? Are they nice?”

Safēda had gotten up and climbed into the pool, and then she flopped down in it, splashing Roxie as she did. Roxie took a step back, but kept looking at me.

“I don’t know. The people I met last night seemed nice, and they were superrich, so that bodes well for the town, I guess.”

“Like how rich?” Roxie asked.

“Like their house is practically a mansion.” I dropped the brush in the water and sat back on my knees, taking a break to talk to her. “It was the nicest house I’ve ever been in, hands down.”

“Is that why you spent the night there?”

Roxie understood my fascination with houses. Well, “understood” wasn’t the right word. It was more like she knew of it, but didn’t understand it all. She’d grown up in an upper- middleclass family, in nice houses with basements, and thought they were about as boring and lame as she could imagine.

“Partly.” I nodded. “It was a really amazing house. There were pillars out front, and the front hall was bigger than my trailer.”

“It’s just a house, Mara.” Roxie shook her head.

“I know but . . .” I trailed off, trying to think of how to explain it to her. “You know how you felt when you first joined the sideshow two years ago? How everything seemed so exciting and fun, and I was like, ‘We live in cramped trailers. It kinda sucks.’”

Roxie nodded. “Yeah. But I still think this life is a million times better than my old life. I get to see everything. I get to decide things for myself. I can leave whenever I want. There’s nothing to hold me back or tie me down.”

She’d finished filling up the pool, so she twisted the nozzle on the hose to shut it off. Stepping carefully over an old tire and a large branch that the tigers used as toys, she went to the edge of the run and tossed the hose over the fence, before Mahilā

decided to play with it and tore it up.

She walked over to the cage and scraped her boots on the edge, to be sure she didn’t track any poop inside, before climbing up inside it.

“So what was the other reason?” Roxie asked.

I kept scrubbing for a moment and didn’t look up at her when I said, “Gabe.”

“Gabe?” Roxie asked. “That sounds like a boy’s name.”

“That’s because it is.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

“No.” I shot her a look. “We just made out a little.”

“What what what?” Luka Zajiček happened to be walking by just in time to hear that, and he changed his course to walk over to the tiger cage. “Is that what you were up to last night?”

“That’s what sucks about living in a community so small. Whenever anything happens, everybody knows about it right away,” I muttered.

Luka put his arms through the cage bars and leaned against it, in the area I’d cleaned already. Since he was rather short, the floor came up to his chest, and his black hair fell into his eyes.

His eyes were the same shade of gray as mine, but his olive skin was slightly lighter than mine. We first met him when he joined the carnival four years ago, and the first thing my mom said was that she was certain that we were related somehow.

Unfortunately, Mom knew next to nothing about our family tree to be able to prove it. All she could really tell me was that we were a mixture of Egyptian, Turkish, and Filipino, with a bit of German thrown in for good measure.

Luka had been born in Czechoslovakia, but he’d moved here with his family when he was young, so he’d lost his accent.

He had recently roped me into helping him with a trick. He’d stand with his back against a wall, while I fi red a crossbow around him. Originally, Blossom had been the one to help him, but she kept missing and shooting him in the leg or arm, so he’d asked me to do it because I had a steadier hand.

“So you made out with some local guy last night?” Luka asked, smirking at me. “Are you gonna see him again?”

“He’s a local guy. What do you think?” I asked, and gave him a hard look.

Luka shrugged. “Sometimes you bump into them again.”

“And that goes so well when they find out that I work and live with a traveling sideshow,” I said.

The floor was spotless, or at least as spotless as tiger cages can get, and I tossed my brush in the bucket and took off my yellow rubber gloves.

“We can’t all meet our boyfriends in the sideshow,” I reminded Luka as I stood up, and it only made him grin wider. He’d been dating Tim— one of the Flying Phoenixes— for the past three months.

“But you didn’t see Blossom anywhere in town last night?” Roxie asked, and Luka’s smile instantly fell away.

A sour feeling stirred in my stomach, and I looked out around camp through the bars of the cage, as if Blossom would suddenly appear standing beside a trailer. As I’d been doing my chores all morning, I kept scanning the campsite for her, expecting her to return at any moment with a funny story about how she’d gotten lost in town.

But so far, she hadn’t. And the longer she went without coming back, the worse the feeling in my stomach got. I shook my head. “No. I didn’t see her at all last night.”

“She’s gotta turn up, though, right?” Luka asked. “I mean, it’s not like there are really that many places she could’ve gone considering she has no money or car and she’s in a small town.”

The tigers were still down in the run, so I opened the side gate and hopped down out of the cage. Roxie got out behind me, then we closed the door.

“I should talk to Gideon,” I decided as Roxie locked the cage up behind me. “It’s not like Blossom to do this.”

“It’s not totally unlike her, though,” Roxie pointed out.

“When we were in Toledo six months ago, she dis appeared for a few days with that weird commune, and came back just before we were leaving, totally baked out of her mind.”

Blossom had grown up with parents who pretended to be hippies but were really just a couple of drug addicts. That— along with her unexplainable telekinesis— led to her dabbling with drugs and alcohol at a young age, before the state intervened and shipped her off to a group home.

My mom tried to keep her clean of her bad habits, but sometimes Blossom just liked to run off and do her own thing. That wasn’t that unusual for people who lived in the carnival.

“But if you’re worried, you should talk to Gideon,” Roxie suggested. “Luka’s right in that Blossom really couldn’t have gone far. Maybe you can scope out Caudry.”

“Since that sounds like a mission that may take a bit of time, can you help me and Hutch with the museum before you talk to Gideon?” Luka asked. “The exit door is jammed, and we can’t get it open, and Seth is busy helping set up the tents.”

“Sure. Between me and Mara, I’m sure the two of us can get the door unstuck,” Roxie said.

I dropped off the bucket with the other tiger supplies, and then followed Roxie and Luka away from our campsite to the fairgrounds on the other side of a chain- link fence. We always stayed close to the rides, the midway, and the circus tent, but we didn’t actually sleep there. It was much better for every one if we kept our private lives separate from the crowds.

Many of the games were already set up, and the Ferris wheel was in the process of being erected as we passed. Near the end of the midway was a long black trailer painted with all kinds of frightening images of werewolves and specters, along with happier pictures of mermaids and unicorns, and the sign was written in bloodred:

Beneath that were several smaller signs warning “Enter at your own risk. The creatures inside can be DISTURBING and cause NIGHTMARES.”

The entrance to the left was open, but the exit door at the other end was still shut. Wearing a pair of workman’s gloves, Hutch was pulling at the door with all his might. His neon green tank showed that his muscles were flexed and straining in effort. The bandana kept his dark brown hair off his face, but sweat was dripping down his brow.

“Let me have a try, Hutch,” Roxie said.

“What?” He turned to look back at her. “Door’s stuck.”

“I can see that. That’s why I said let me have a try.”

“Okay.” Hutch shrugged and stepped back.

Hutch’s real name was Donald Hutchence, but nobody ever called him anything but Hutch. He didn’t have any special powers, unless you considered being really agreeable and easygoing a super power, so, like me, he was left doing whatever else needed to be done.

Roxie grabbed the door and started pulling on it, and when it didn’t budge, I joined her.

“Luka, go and push from the inside,” Roxie commanded through gritted teeth.

Both Luka and Hutch went inside, pushing as Roxie and I pulled. And then all at once, the door gave way, and we all fell back on the gravel. I landed on my back, scraping my elbow on the rocks.

Roxie made it out unscathed, and Hutch fell painfully on top of me, so he’d avoided injury. Luka crashed right on the gravel, though, and the rocks tore through his jeans and ripped up his knees and the palms of his hands pretty badly.

“Do you need me to get a Band- Aid or anything?” Hutch asked as he helped me to my feet.

“No, I’ll be okay.” I glanced over at Luka and the blood dripping down his knees. “What about you? Do you want anything?”

“Nah. Just give it a few minutes.” Luka waved it off and sat down on the steps leading up to the museum door.

No matter how many times I saw it, I couldn’t help but watch. His knee was shredded, with bits of gravel sticking in the skin. Right before my eyes, the bleeding stopped, and the rocks started falling out, as if pushed by his flesh, and the skin grew back, reattaching itself where it had been little mangled flaps.

Within a few minutes, Luka’s knee was healed completely.

Copyright © 2017 by Amanda Hocking and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Griffin.

 

 

I loved Amanda Hocking and her books.  And when I read the blurb to this book, I was immediately hooked.  However, I did not enjoy it as much as I was expecting.

The overall story of this book was great.  That’s what kept me glued to the pages.  I love the idea of the sideshow and all the characters involved.  They were very interesting and I wish we could have gotten to know more about them.  But I get that this book revolved around Mara and her family in the carnival.

While I enjoyed the characters and their abilities, I had a hard time connecting to any of them.  And it’s not that because this is a YA book, but I just don’t think any of them were as well developed as her other books.  And the whole insta-love thing between Gabe and Mara just seemed to far fetched for me.  I understand they have unique gifts and that’s the underlying part of how they connect so quickly, but without feeling any connection to them, everything just felt off and hard to believe.

Overall, the book is a good read.  There wasn’t a point that I wanted to walk away.  As I said, the overall story kept me glued and had me wanting to know what was going on.  Just don’t expect to get too attached to any characters or anything along those lines.

AMANDA HOCKING Q&A

 Your characters are sent into the Hunger Games. Who wins?

If it’s just the characters from FREEKS, and only one could win, I would put my money on Luka or maybe Roxie. Luka because he can heal from injuries, which gives him a crazy advantage, but Roxie is smart and she’s a survivor. Plus, she has the power of pyrokinesis, which I think I would come in handy in a battle to the death.

  What do you listen to while you write? Or do you prefer silence?

I almost always listen to music when I write, unless I’m writing a really difficult scene. Sometimes the silence helps me focus, but most of the time, I prefer music. For FREEKS, I got to make a really fun 80s playlist, so I especially enjoyed working to that.

  What is the most embarrassing thing you’ve looked up in the name of research – or what do you think the government has maybe flagged you for?

There are sooo many things. For FREEKS, I had to do fun stuff like, “What does a dead body smell like?” and “How much blood can a human lose?” And then after those macabre questions, I did a bunch of googling on fireflies and tarot cards. My search history when I’m working can be pretty exciting like that.

  What was your favorite part of writing FREEKS?

I love Southern Gothics and I love pulpy 80s horror movies, so I was excited to be able incorporate those things in FREEKS. But my favorite part was actually Mara and Gabe. I think they complement each other well, and it was fun writing their banter and flirtations.

  Which actor/actress would you like to see playing your main characters from FREEKS?

For Mara, I envisioned Cassie Steele from the start. I used to be a hardcore Degrassi fan, and I loved Cassie Steele on that. For Gabe, I like Ryan Guzman. I saw him in a Jennifer Lopez movie, and I was like, “Yep. That could be Gabe.”

  Do you have a special time to write or how is your day structured?

I usually write between 11 am and 7 pm. I’ve tried to write earlier in the day and have more of a 8-5 type schedule, but I am not a morning person. My brain just doesn’t want to work much before noon.

  Do you aim for a set amount of words/pages per day?

I usually have a goal in mind before I start writing, but it varies. Some days, it’s slow going and I hope to get at least 500 words out. Other days, I fly through with thousands of words. So it depends on where I’m at in the book, when it’s due, and how I’m feeling about the whole thing.

  When you develop your characters, do you already have an idea of who they are before you write or do you let them develop as you go?

With all my main characters, I have a really good idea of who they are, and it’s just a matter of showing that to the readers. With the side characters, they tend to be rather one-dimensional, and they grow into the story as they’re needed.

  How did writing Freeks differ from your writing your previous novels?

FREEKS was the first thing I had written in awhile that was started out just for me. For most of the past ten years, I have been writing my books with the intention of publishing them, with the audience and readers and trends in mind. I think I had gotten a little burnt out on trying to make everyone happy (mostly because it is impossible to please all readers all the time), and I just wanted to write something that for the sake of writing it.

And that turned out to be a gothic love story about a teenage girl travelling with a band of misfits in the 1980s. It was a very cathartic writing experience for me, and it reminded me of exactly why I loved writing in the first place – I love getting lost in the world, with the characters.

  If Freeks had a theme song what would it be?

Either “Hush” by Limousines or “Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears.

 Can you please tell us a little bit about Freeks and where you got the inspiration to write it?

I was going through a rough patch, creatively speaking, and so I just sat back and tried to think of my favorite and what I loved most that I would want to write about.

When I was a kid, I used to get old books at garage sales all the time, and I distinctly remember getting Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King and a few old V. C. Andrews novels, which are pulpy Southern Gothic-esque novels. I also watched The Lost Boys and Pretty in Pink over and over again (I think I literally ruined the old VHS of The Lost Boys from watching it too much).

So I basically threw all those things together in a soup, and I picked apart the things I liked and wanted to explore more. That became a travelling sideshow in the 80s stopping Louisiana, where a supernatural monster is afoot, and a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who is smith with a local boy with secrets of his own.

  Freeks is full of many amazingly talented characters and I imagine it was really fun to create some of them, but which one was your favorite and why?

Mara and Gabe are my obvious favorites, since they’re the main characters because I was drawn to them and their story the most. Both of them of them have complex feelings about family and personal identity, and their instant chemistry was fun to write.

But I think Gideon – the namesake and head of sideshow – was actually the biggest surprise, which made him fun in a different way. In the original outlines of the story, he was much a different character – very one-note and cruel – but he completely changed and evolved as I was writing.

  The book is based off of a type of traveling circus that is full of many mysterious acts. If you were to attend a Freekshow, which act would you want to see most?

My favorites are usually the acrobatics, but I think if I attended Gideon Davorin’s Traveling Sideshow, I would be most excited to see Gideon’s magic act. With his skills and knowledge, I think it would be a really amazing show.

  What do you hope readers will take away from FREEKS after reading it? 

With some of my other novels, I deal with heavy themes like life and death, identity, honor, mortality, classism, and family. And while I do definitely touch on those themes in FREEKS, I mostly wrote it as an escape for myself, and that’s what I hope it is for other readers. Life can be hard and frustrating, and I just wanted to write a fun book that readers could get lost in for awhile.

  What is something people would be surprised to know about you? 

Probably how chronically shy I am. Writing is a weird profession, because a good 90% of it is perfect for introverts – you sit alone by yourself and make up imaginary friends to go on adventures. But the last 10% – which involves introducing the whole word to your imaginary friends – is the most exciting and rewarding part, but it’s also the most difficult when you’re as shy as I am.

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Swing by Adriana Locke…Release Boost with Review

 

 

Title: Swing
Series: Landry Family #2
Author: Adriana Locke
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: December 19, 2016

 

Blurb

 

Screw him and his perfect stats.

Sinful smirk.

Delicious body.

Lincoln Landry probably even has game-winning stamina.

 

I’d like to screw her and her perfect ass.

Dangerous curves.

Sweet smile.

Danielle Ashley probably even has a game-changing personality.

 

There’s no denying the chemistry between them. It’s so fiery, it’s undeniable. They partake in it. Enjoy it.

They really enjoy it.

Attraction is not a problem. Nor is their banter, relationship status, or habits. That’s all fine. Perfect, actually.

The problem is as tangled up as their sheets.

 

A STANDALONE romantic comedy from USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke.

 

Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

 

 

Excerpt

Screw him and his perfect resume.

And flawless face.

And delicious body.

And probably game-winning stamina. I’m going to be a mess today just thinking about it.

“Why was he in your office?” Macie asks, right as I was ready to mentally remove his clothes. “Oh my God, Danielle! I just pulled him up. Why can’t I be you? Just for a day?”

“I’m quite happy I’m me today,” I laugh. “He just walked off the elevator on the wrong floor and followed me to my office.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter? Now I’m sitting here with wet panties, his ‘Fuck me’ cologne filling my office, and all sorts of ideas as to what his body looks like under those sweatpants and t-shirt.”

I started reading this book with the expectation that it was my everyday romance sports novel. However, I was pleasantly surprise that Adriana Locke gave me my “everyday romance” with such humor and wonderful character this book was not a mundane read. The banter between Ryan Danielle (AKA Dani) and Lincoln Landry was so great, I often found myself smiling and laughing out loud.

These two come together by a chance elevator ride and from there the love just blossoms. It was great to see Dani not just fall ahead over hills for Lincoln. She knows his love for baseball is not only his passion but his job. However, she fears that this will rip him away from her. Lincoln is currently injured and working hard to recover so he can return to what he loves most in the world, baseball. The possibility of Lincoln returning to the game looms heavy on Dani because she knows from experience that athletes always choose the game before her. Not wanting Lincoln to make that choice, she starts to pull away from him again. This is where I fell in love with this story! I assume, yes he picks baseball, lives his life a little and realizes that he loves her and once he realizes this he runs into her open arms. You know the typical love story. Like I said Adriana Locke takes the mundane love story and turns it into a story that melts your heart if you are a romance lover like myself. It was such a sweet love story with characters I adore!

Also Available
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
AUDIBLE
Free in Kindle Unlimited

 

Author Bio

 

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

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

For sneak peeks, giveaways, and more, please join Adriana’s Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke, or her Goodreads group, All Locked Up.

 

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Nina can’t let herself fall in love with the man she’s going to marry. Both of them have experienced the sting and sham of love and have no intentions of falling victim to it twice. Love is expensive—hate is free.

Three years. A million dollars. A solution to both of their problems. They planned it all, from the story of their first meeting to the date of their divorce. Nothing could go wrong.

But what they didn’t consider was chemistry, and Nina and Max have no shortage of it. After too many near-kisses, Nina convinces herself that hating Max is better than loving him, and the more she gets to know this soon-to-be-husband of hers, the more she discovers just how very much she truly, madly, and deeply . . . hates him.

This isn’t a love story. This is the other kind.

 

“Okay. So how do you think this is going?” Max tipped the broom handle between us. “You and me?”
​My forehead pinched together. “You and me the plan? Or you and me the surprise?”
​Max’s brow answered my question.
​“And this topic is what you consider not-so-deep?” I nudged him and moved to finish stocking syrups.
​“All I’m looking for is a simple estimation. Since we were just talking about school, give us a grade for how you think this is going.”
​“A grade? Like A, B, C, D, F?”
​“Exactly like that.”
​I shook my head. “Did you have a rough day at work today? Lose an Olympic-size swimming pool of money or something? Are you needing your daily ego stroking to come from somewhere else today?” When I glanced back at him, I found Max leaning into the door he’d relocked, arms crossed and waiting.
​“Our relationship is unique,” he said. “Intricate. I’m asking not because I need my ego stroked, but because I care. If I need to make some changes, I’m willing to. Anything you need, whatever you want, that’s what I’ll give you. But first, I have to know how I’m doing.”
​If a man could get a woman pregnant from a piercing stare and a collection of words, I’d just gotten myself good and knocked up. With twins.
​“You know how it’s going,” I said, trying to focus on the syrups instead of what—or who—I wanted to focus on.
​“I know how I think it’s going. I’d like to know how you think it’s going.”
​My mouth went a little dry. Having these kinds of talks was hard for anyone—they were next to impossible for me. “Well, you haven’t gone and confessed your undying love or scared the hell out of me by asking me to be your baby mama, so you’re keeping your promise to take it nice and slow.” When he gave a mini bow, I rolled my eyes. “Not to mention you aren’t too shabby in the sack, you don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink, and you share the remote well.”
​Max’s face went flat. “Not too shabby?”
​“Oh, please. You know how good you are. Stop fishing for compliments.” A flush crept up my neck as I thought of the most recent evidence to support that theory.
​A slow, crooked smile spread across his face. “I want a grade.”
​“Like comprehensive? Or broken down by category?” I was stalling, and Max knew I was stalling.
​“You’re making this way too difficult,” he grumbled.
​“An A minus,” I said abruptly. “I’d give you an A minus.”
​“Why not an A plus?”
​I kept my head turned so he couldn’t see my smile. Only Max Sturm would be outraged by an A minus. “Because there’s always room for improvement. And I wouldn’t want it to go to your head, that’s why not an A plus.”
​The door creaked when he shoved off of it. He made no move to tame the way he was checking me out, leaning into the counter as I organized the syrups. “Something’s definitely going to my head.”
​My gaze roamed his zipper region. “I was talking about the one north of your neck.”
​“And I’m talking about the one at the end of my dick. My, at present, hard dick, thanks to you.” He came up behind me, fitting himself against my backside as his hands moved around to work on my jeans.
​“Max,” I protested, my eyes closing a second later when his dick nuzzled deeper into my backside.
​“Nina. I’m taking your body. Here. Now.” His chest pressed into my back as he lowered my zipper. “Accept that so we can move on to the next part.”

 

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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.

 

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Empire by Lili St Germain….Book Tour Stop

 

The breathtaking finale to the Cartel Trilogy by Lili St Germain

Is FINALLY HERE!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2gukCjI

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2gPC68p

iBooks: http://apple.co/2guo5Py

Nook: http://bit.ly/2gUfSRz

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2gPJ0KQ

Series link:  www.lilisaintgermain.com/the-cartel-trilogy

Blurb

 

People aren’t born monsters.

They’re created.

I’d been with Dornan Ross for the better part of a decade. Slept in his bed, sewn up his wounds, tasted his blood, seen inside his soul.

But even I wasn’t prepared for what he did.

I should have known it would always come down to this, from the very moment I laid eyes on him in that motel.

I should have known his salvation was too good to be true.

Because it’s all gone now, the impossible love I had for him bleeding away in the darkness that came afterward.

Now there’s only hate.

Now I just want to escape.

Even if it means I have to kill him to be free.

 

ABOUT THE CARTEL TRILOGY

How much is a life worth?

Mariana Rodriguez is the eldest daughter of a Colombian drug lord. Growing up in Villanueva, Colombia, she has never wanted for anything. Private schools, a lavish lifestyle, and the safety of the Cartel that her father works for.

At nineteen, she’s got her entire life mapped out, and what a good life it’s going to be: graduate from college, move to America, and finally be free from the stifling grip of the Cartel.

Only, her father messes up. A shipment of cocaine – a very large, very valuable shipment – is seized by the authorities whilst under his care and he becomes liable for the debt. Half a million dollars’ worth of cocaine.

Half a million dollars he does not have.

But he has a daughter, a very smart one, a daughter who would give up her very existence and offer herself as payment for her father’s sins, to ensure her family survives.

But falling in love with the man who owns her isn’t part of the plan…

EXCERPT

John paid the waitress and she took my waffles to box up. I’d barely touched them, too busy talking, but I might want them after a couple of hours’ sleep.

‘You got a bathroom?’ John asked her. The woman looked at him like he was an idiot. She didn’t even respond with words, just pointed to a door in the back.

‘I’m gonna go get this cleaned up,’ he said.

I held up my purse. ‘I’ll come with you. I brought extra gauze. Since you insist on not getting stitches.’

Luckily there was a staff bathroom and changeroom that nobody seemed to be using. John held the door open for me and then locked it, testing it to make sure it couldn’t open. We were good. He leaned down while I took off the old gauze and tried my best to clean the wound again. It was deep, and looked nasty.

‘Does it hurt?’ I asked him.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve had things hurt a lot more.’
‘Like what?’
He licked his lips, put his hands on my waist. ‘Like my cock right now.’
Lust dragged through my belly like wildfire and I swear, I felt my pupils dilate.
‘Oh, yeah? Your cock needs medical attention, too?’

He smirked, pulling me close with a forceful jerk. I could feel his hardness against my belly, and I wanted it all to myself. An empty ache throbbed between my thighs, demanding to be filled.

He brought a finger to my chin, tilting my face up to his. One kiss. That was all it took for my lamb to become a lion.

‘Take your fucking panties off before I rip them off.’ His eyes burned with desire and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Shit. I was about ready to come just from his words.

I hitched my skirt up, making it a show for him as I hooked my thumbs into the edges of my panties and slid them down my thighs. I was wearing white panties, and there was a clear wet patch on the inside. John saw it as I stepped out of the panties and he made a growling noise in the back of his throat, snatching them from me.

He fell to his knees before me, prising my thighs apart. I had to shuffle my feet wider apart to accommodate him. His tongue touched me, ever so gently, and it took everything inside me not to scream.

‘John,’ I begged. I wasn’t even sure what I was begging for. I just knew that I needed him, desperately. He slid a finger inside me and I tightened around it, involuntary, pulsing with need. A finger wasn’t going to be enough. I needed him. Inside me. Now. I squeezed his head, my hands fisted in his hair. Every time his tongue touched me, it was like a fucking inferno lit up inside me. Every time he pulled away, I pressed my hips forward, seeking that wet caress that was threatening to bring me undone in a Denny’s bathroom stall. Of all places. Guess I’d been wrong. Seemed we really were going to fuck in a restaurant bathroom.

When he pulled his face away, I just about crumpled over on myself. I caught a look at myself in the mirror – clumped mascara from the nap I’d taken on the kitchen counter earlier; my cheeks flushed.

‘Somebody might catch us,’ John said, that teasing glint in his eye.

I held onto his arms, my legs still shaking from the way he’d cruelly taunted me until I was almost coming. ‘Let’s shoot everyone on that bridge when we come to it,’ I said, pulling my tank top down to expose a nipple. I pulled his hair, and he went with it, bringing his mouth to my pebbled nipple and sucking hard enough that pleasure hummed dangerously close to pain.

He pulled his mouth away and picked me up effortlessly, his hands cupping my ass cheeks. ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he murmured. I did, breathless with anticipation as he walked me backward to the sink. He dropped me onto the edge, and luckily the thing was built solid enough, because he hitched my skirt up and slammed into me so hard, my head went back into the mirror and left a little crack in the glass. Not enough to draw blood. Not even enough to see stars. But enough that I hoped I’d be driving past this Denny’s with Dornan one time, and have to stop off, and come in here to relive this moment, one crack in the mirror and John’s hand over my mouth as he made me come so hard, I drew blood along his arm with my fingernails. Especially when he pulled back and with every insistent thrust inside me, he told me he loved me. I love you. Fuck. I love you. Fuck! At one point, I thought his love was going to send me through the wall and into the next room. With my free hand I gripped the edge of the basin, as hot, wet kisses trailed up my neck, one thumb on my clit, making me come so hard I bit down on his shoulder without thinking, and John shuddered forcefully as he came inside me.

I felt bruised inside. I’d be sore for days after that. Some very sick part of me wondered if I’d still feel like this, raw and tender, the next time Dornan put his hands or his mouth or his cock near me.

I hoped so.

I know, it’s not right. I never said I was a good person, did I? Part of me was already looking forward to the bruised places Dornan would touch inside me, the map John had made when he’d fucked me, and that Dornan would never know I was feeling John’s touch when he was inside me.

About the Author:

Lili writes dark romance, suspense and paranormal stories. Her serial novel, Seven Sons, was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to be released in quick succession. 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

 

 

 

 

 

Bad Billionaires After Dark: Dylan by Melissa Foster….Release Blitz

It’s the release week blitz for BAD BILLIONAIRES AFTER DARK: DYLAN by Melissa Foster. Check it out and grab your copy today!

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About Bad Billionaires After Dark: Dylan:

Bad Billionaires After Dark are a series of stand-alone hot and sexy romances.

Indulge your inner vixen with these sexy billionaires!

Meet the Bad Boys… Four fiercely loyal, sinfully sexy, uber alpha brothers, about to fall head over heels for their leading ladies.

Everything’s naughtier after dark…

Sinfully sexy bar owner Dylan Bad has a thing for needy women. He’s a savior, a knight in shining armor, and his mighty talented sword has no trouble bringing damsels in distress to their knees. Enter Tiffany Winters, a gorgeous cutthroat sports agent who looks like sex on legs, f**ks like she’s passion personified, and wouldn’t let a man help her if she were dangling from a ledge and he was her only hope. One night and too much tequila might change their lives forever. The question is, will either one survive?

*** BAD BILLIONAIRES AFTER DARK

Mick

Dylan

Carson (coming soon)

Brett (coming soon)

More After Dark books:

WILD BOYS AFTER DARK (Available Now!)

Logan

Heath

Jackson

Cooper

The BILLIONAIRES AFTER DARK series is part of the LOVE IN BLOOM big family romance collection. Each book may be read as a stand-alone novel, or as part of the series.

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Get your copy today!

Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EZ400X8

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bad-boys-after-dark-melissa-foster/1123782702?ean=2940157029845

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/bad-boys-after-dark-dylan

GPlay: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Melissa_Foster_Bad_Boys_After_Dark_Dylan?id=Mv8VDAAAQBAJ

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/bad-boys-after-dark-dylan/id1109524331?mt=11

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/634128

Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Bad-Boys-After-Dark-Dylan/dp/1941480551

 

Exclusive Excerpt:

WITH HER PHONE pressed to her ear, Tiffany Winters ducked out of the rain and into the Kiss, an eclectic Manhattan bar, to return calls and take care of a mountain of text messages that had piled up during her dinner meeting. She listened to her client’s wife explain why she didn’t want her husband traveling too often to endorse a hotel chain Tiffany was planning on pitching to him next week. Her client had already nixed any mention of his family in the advertisements, and reducing his travel would make it an even harder sell.

“I hear your concern, Allison,” she said as she sat on a barstool. “If you and Matt decide this isn’t the right thing for your family, we’ll turn our efforts in another direction.” As a sports agent, dealing with significant others was part of the job, a part Tiffany enjoyed and other agents rued. Sure, some wives assumed their husband’s success granted them the power to be overly demanding. Ass kissing was part of the game. Sometimes she wished she could give the meeker wives lessons in how to be tough. Teach them to have balls as big as their husbands’ and come right out and say what they meant instead of beating around the bush with bullshit hypotheticals. She reminded herself often that not every woman grew up in a testosterone-laden house with two competitive older brothers and a father who won the Heisman in college and went on to play pro sports—a house where mincing words didn’t cut the mustard.

“You missed the wedding.”

The deep male voice drew Tiffany’s attention from her phone call to the fine specimen of a man standing behind the bar. He looked like he’d just stepped off a Hot Guys in Suits Pinterest page. His tie hung loosely around the collar of his white dress shirt, which was open three buttons deep, revealing a smattering of dark chest hair, a rarity nowadays, when so many men manscaped every inch of their bodies. Tiffany preferred a man to look like a man, which included hair in all the right places. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing heavily corded forearms, and his jacket hung casually from two fingers over his left shoulder. Her fingers itched to send the last few buttons—and that jacket—flying to the floor. The guy’s chiseled jaw and dark eyes were movie-star classic, and his dark hair was thick enough to hang on to. She’d had a long, hard day, and he looked like he could provide a long, hard, pleasure-filled night.

Perfect.

Holding his gaze, she spoke into the phone as he laid his jacket across the bar, giving her the impression he wasn’t the bartender, but rather a guest who’d happened to wander back there. “Allison, I’ll see what else I can come up with and get back to you. Right. Okay, hon. Thank you.” After ending the call, she responded to the stud behind the bar. “Wedding? Who gets married at a bar?”

“My brother, for one.” He nodded across the room to a group of men and women who were holding their glasses up in a toast.

She zeroed in on one she recognized as her tall, dark colleague. “Mick Bad is married?” The high-powered attorney was a workaholic like her, and he’d been unattached two months earlier, when they’d worked together on a deal for one of her clients. She’d never understand couples who claimed to fall in love practically overnight. Love was a crutch for weak people who needed someone else to lean on. Except Mick Bad had never needed anyone to lean on. She wondered if his new bride was pregnant.

“The one and only.” Hot guy’s eyes took a long, luxurious stroll down her body, lingered on her breasts, then roamed north, hovering around her mouth, before finally meeting her gaze. He flashed a wolfish grin full of sinful promises.

“Dylan Bad at your service.”

Pushing thoughts of her newly married colleague’s expedient nuptials aside, she focused on his very available brother. A definite player, which was fine with her. She had no time—or interest—in anything but a quick hookup, and the six-two or -three stud had already shot to the top of tonight’s fantasy list.

“What’s your pleasure?” he asked with more than a hint of innuendo.

You. Naked, with your head buried between my legs, to start.

“Surprise me.” She watched him turn to prepare her drink and checked out the way his dark slacks hugged his perfect ass. It had been a long time since she’d found a man this attractive. But Mick Bad’s brother? That spelled trouble.

 

 

About Melissa Foster:

melissa-foster

Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance and new adult romance, contemporary women’s fiction, suspense, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café and Fostering Success. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa has been published in Calgary’s Child Magazine, the Huffington Post, and Women Business Owners magazine.

Melissa hosts an Aspiring Authors contest for children and has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Melissa lives in Maryland with her family.

Visit Melissa on social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups, and welcomes an invitation to your event.

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Connect with Melissa:

NEWSLETTER:

http://www.melissafoster.com/newsletter

CONNECT WITH MELISSA

FACEBOOK:

https://www.facebook.com/MelissaFosterAuthor

TWITTER:

https://twitter.com/Melissa_Foster

WEBSITE:

http://www.MelissaFoster.com

STREET TEAM:

http://www.facebook.com/groups/melissafosterfans

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Enter Melissa’s Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Chapter Reveal…Hate Story by Nicole Williams

 

 

Coming December 26th
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Nina can’t let herself fall in love with the man she’s going to marry. Both of them have experienced the sting and sham of love and have no intentions of falling victim to it twice. Love is expensive—hate is free.

Three years. A million dollars. A solution to both of their problems. They planned it all, from the story of their first meeting to the date of their divorce. Nothing could go wrong.

But what they didn’t consider was chemistry, and Nina and Max have no shortage of it. After too many near-kisses, Nina convinces herself that hating Max is better than loving him, and the more she gets to know this soon-to-be-husband of hers, the more she discovers just how very much she truly, madly, and deeply . . . hates him.

This isn’t a love story. This is the other kind.

 

 

 

   Second thoughts. I was having them.
   Experiencing these any time before stepping into the lobby of the swanky hotel I was meeting him at would have been helpful.
   “Sure you’re ready for this?” my best friend, Kate, asked, surveying the lobby like he was going to be lurking there with a sign hanging above his head.
   “I’m sure.”
   It was a lie. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but I didn’t have a choice. The bills had gone from a pile to a pillar, and if I didn’t do something soon, I would lose the house. I couldn’t lose the house. Not ever. It was the only home I’d ever known.
   “You don’t have to do this, you know? There are other options. When I mentioned this a few months ago, it was just a far-off suggestion, not one I thought you’d actually run with.” Kate slowed down as we got closer to the hotel lounge where he was supposed to be waiting.
   “There are no other options that include me keeping the house. At least not ones that are any less illicit than this one.” I licked my lips out of nervousness. With the way things had been lately, it was a miracle they hadn’t turned into sandpaper.
   “You know you could go to jail, right?”
   My tongue touched my lips again. “Only if I get caught.”
   Kate shook her head, and her light hair whipped across her shoulders. She was everything I wasn’t. Tall, rail-thin, straight blond hair that cooperated, skin that looked like she’d been gilded in something ethereal, and dressed like life was one endless party. Our personalities were a stark contrast as well. She was effervescent, where I fell somewhere closer to the jaded end of the scale. She wrung the life out of each day, loved like she’d never been hurt, and laughed like she’d never known sorrow.
   What she saw in me that kept our friendship enduring, I didn’t know. I just hoped she hadn’t hung around when others bailed because she felt obligated. I didn’t want to be anyone’s pity penance.
   She snagged my arm when I walked in front of her, braking me to a stop when I was a few steps from the lounge’s entrance. “Do you know what he looks like?”
   I tempered my irritation before glancing at her. She was coming from a place of concern, but I was committed. I just needed to get this over with already. “No.”
   “About how old he is?”
    My armpits were starting to sweat. I hadn’t even seen him yet and I was already pitting out. “No,” I answered, lifting my arms a little for ventilation.
   “Do you know what he’s going to be wearing tonight?” Kate glanced over my shoulder, almost glaring into the lounge.
   “No.” I twisted from side to side to create as much of a breeze as I could. I so should have splurged for the clinical strength deodorant instead of this cheap dollar-store junk that was probably going to give me cancer one day. If my budget hadn’t been worked out to the last quarter, I would have.
   “Do you know anything about him?” Kate sighed, motioning at me like I was the lamb who’d just brayed as the first volunteer for the slaughter. “Other than, you know . . .” She swallowed. “What he wants?”
   My stomach rolled. I definitely knew what he wanted.
   “I know his name.”
    Kate waited a moment. “And his name is . . .?”
   “Sturm.”
   Her nose wrinkled. “What kind of a name is that?”
   “Sturm’s his last name. I don’t know what his first is.”
   Kate’s nose went back to normal, but a high eyebrow took over its job of disapproving. She was especially expressive. That was another way we were different. Kate seemed to have no desire or inclination to hide what she felt, whereas I had every desire and inclination to hide.
   “So what is he expecting you to call him? Mister Sturm? Because this twenty-first-century feminist is so not okay with one of her best friends addressing this guy like that.”
   “Yeah, neither is this twenty-first-century feminist.” I flapped air in the direction of my armpits because they were only getting worse.
   “The same feminist agreeing to marry a man for money?” Kate drew her hand up to her hip and stretched into every inch of her nearly-six-foot frame.
   The word still sucked the air out of my lungs, but it had lost some of its potency. “Exactly—agreeing to marry him for money instead of lame reasons like love or feelings or to grow old together. How much more feminist does it get?”
   Kate looked down at me. “Eh, how about instead of marrying him for money, you could turn him into the authorities for trying to commit green card fraud?” She peeked over my shoulder and craned her neck to look into the lounge. “Besides, what is a million dollars really? That chick in that Indecent Proposal movie got a million and she only had to spend one night with him. Plus if you factor in inflation, since that movie’s almost as old as I am, you are getting the proverbial and literal shaft. In the ass.”
   I gave up the armpit sweat battle and hung my arms at my sides. Why did I care if this guy’s first impression of me was as a profuse sweater? I wasn’t asking for his approval or even expecting it. He was a business transaction to me. I was a means to an end to him.
   A case of two people embracing the capitalist spirit of America.
   “Yeah, but she had to sleep with the guy. That’s not part of our deal,” I argued. “But if it was part of the fine print, believe me, I’d ask for a hell of a lot more.”
   We had an agreement. Kind of. It was more a rough draft that had just as many amendments as it had bullet points, but I preferred having everything ironed out in advance. I wanted to know exactly what I was getting into before sinking up to my neck in it, which I was minutes away from doing.
   “So you’re saying you would sleep with him if the price was right?” Kate’s other hand flew to her hip.
   I gave her the most indifferent face I could. I might have been able to look the part, but I certainly didn’t feel the part. “Hey, Morality Police, I’m already agreeing to marry a guy so he can get a green card. Give me a break.”
   Kate’s phone chimed in her clutch. She’d wrangled up a couple of friends to meet her at this lounge tonight so she could keep an eye on me. I guessed she was worried the guy might not be on the up-and-up and might be using a green card as a cover for wanting to sell me off for internal organs or into the sex trade. I wasn’t worried about that, but I was thankful she was here for support if nothing else.
   After punching in a quick text, Kate circled her phone at me. “And what are you wearing? Did you think there was going to be a ribbon handed out at the end of the night for the most colorful outfit?”
   I glanced down at myself. I liked color. Lots of it. Living in a place like Portland, Oregon, a person had to find a way to fight off the perpetual gray. This was my chosen method.
   “I wanted to make sure he knew who I was,” I said, just barely peeking inside the lounge. Dozens of bodies, all of them different shapes, sizes, and colors, and all of them were dressed like they’d conspired to match. “If I’d known everyone would be in some shade of gray or blue, I wouldn’t have dressed in a green polka-dot dress, fuchsia shoes, and a blue checked scarf.”
   Kate bit her lip to keep from laughing. “You’re a fashion intervention begging to happen.”
   I stopped rubbing at a wrinkle in my dress. If an iron hadn’t been up to the challenge of smoothing it out, my thumb wasn’t going to do it. “I don’t care. I’m not here to impress him or earn his approval.”
   “Yeah, that’s obvious,” she mumbled just loud enough for me to hear. When I went to give her a little shove, she slid out of the way. “And if you’re not trying to impress him, why are you wearing the first dress I’ve seen you in since, god, probably when you wore that very one at spring fling of our senior year?” Kate was looking inside the lounge now, her gaze skimming the space like she was looking for something. Her friends must have already been there because she waved at someone before lifting her finger in a just-a-minute kind of way.
   “Because I didn’t think this place was a holey jeans and sneakers kind of place,” I argued, wondering why I was defending my wardrobe choices to someone who dressed by the less-is-more standard.
   “Let’s hope Mister Sturm is fashion blind.” The way she said it earned her another little shove.
   “He’s a single, foreign man who’s paying someone a hell of a lot of money to marry him.” I crossed my arms at her as she kept peeking into the lounge. “I think it’s safe to say I’m not about to come face-to-face with a guy who spends his nights flipping the pages of GQ. And if you call him Mister Sturm again, I’m going to pull your hair.”
   Kate winked at me. “My scalp’s a little sensitive from the hair pulling last night.”
   I rolled my eyes. “Alexander?” The last man du jour she’d mentioned to me.
   “Trenton.” She kind of sighed his name. Actually, it held the hint of a moan. God. I could never imagine sighing-slash-moaning some guy’s name. Ever. The closest I’d ever gotten to a sigh-moan was over the peanut butter pie my grandma had made for my last birthday.
    “Fine,” I said, interrupting the last notes of her moan.
   “Then I’ll slap your ass if you say it again.”
   She flashed a wicked smile my direction before giving her hips a shake. “Just as sensitive.”
   “God, fine,” I groaned. “Just stop. Your sex life nauseates me.”
   “Jealous is not a good look for you. Besides, someone needs to make up for your lack of it.” Kate waved at me like my sex life was visible for all to read.  
   “At your rate, you’re making up for the entire city’s lack of sex life.”
   She nodded solemnly. “You’re welcome.”
   “Besides, sex is not all it’s cracked up to be.” At this point, I was stalling, but I was nervous.
   “Believe me, with the right person who knows what they’re doing, it is all, and more, it’s cracked up to be.” Kate bounced her brows. “Some guys just know how to use their dick better than others.”
   I frowned. “Wow. I’m about to orgasm all over the place.”
   Kate laughed as she slid in front of me and teased my hair with her fingers.
   “Oww,” I whined as she ripped and pulled at my hair. “And I hope you washed your hands with bleach after the last dick you touched.”
   She responded by smearing her hands down the sides of my face. “Most action you’ve ever seen.” She scrubbed them down my face one more time. “You’re welcome.”
   I stepped out of the reach of her filthy little paws and waved her toward the lounge.  
   “I’ll be right there. Just give the signal if the guy turns out to be a serious creeper, okay?” She waited for me to nod, then she kissed the air in my direction. “Go get him, tomcat.”
   I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I went with an okay signal.
   I waited a minute after Kate had disappeared into the lounge. Then I waited one more before forcing my feet forward. It wasn’t like my dwindling courage was going to find its way back the longer I stalled.
   Taking in a slow breath, I pictured my house. The one I’d grown up in. The one that had housed a Burton for sixty years. The one that would probably be gutted or ripped down and replaced by whatever rich a-hole bought it at the foreclosure sale. I pictured relief from the stack of bills, the freedom to have choices, and a future that wasn’t already painted with bleak hues and dark strokes.
   Then I moved inside the lounge and took my first step toward my future husband.

 

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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.

 

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