He rejected her. She loathes him. Now they have to fool everyone and pretend they actually like each other.
Tanner Harris has been busy shagging his way through the ladies of east London, but getting caught by the paparazzi buck-naked with his trouser snake in his hands means he’s sowed his last wild oat.
Dr. Belle Ryan once thought Tanner Harris was the perfect kind of bearded bad boy she needed to relieve a bit of stress after her intense job as a surgical fellow, but an icy cold rejection from London’s sluttiest footballer puts the two at each other’s throats.
Fate and a favour conspire to put Tanner and Belle back in each other’s paths and they’re forced to do a lot more than get along to save face and their careers.
Rage turns to passion and tempers run sizzling hot when they realise they aren’t just falling for each other—they’re jumping head first. And neither have the endurance to keep their hands to themselves.
EXCERPT
I cheers my beer with hers and chug the rest down. I drop the bottle and begin swirling Indie around in a childish spin that sends us both flying in different directions and crashing to the ground. Hot, sweaty hands wrap around me and pull me to my feet.
“Thank you, Good Samaritan,” I slur, turning to face my gallant saviour.
When my eyes glance up and focus, I’m stunned by the bearded vision before me. “You look like a guy I know!”
He clutches his hands firmly around my waist and holds me to him. “You look like a girl I want to know.”
I laugh half-heartedly and try to pull away.
“Are you trying to leave me, lass?” he slurs into my ear.
I frown and my head bobbles. “How could I leave you, Jesus? You’re God’s son…You’re everywhere.” I throw my hands out wide to punctuate my “everywhere” and attempt to stumble away.
He grabs me again, this time his hands dipping lower to my arse. My good mood evaporates instantly. “Hey!” I shout. “Watch your fucking hands!”
I attempt to shove him away, but he feels like one of those doors that you push when you’re supposed to pull. He doesn’t budge. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “I’d like to put my hands on your tight little—”
Right when I’m about ready to punch the wank stain in his vile mouth, I nearly fall over as a strange momentum spins me away. The man’s hands are no longer groping me. They are now pinned deftly behind his back by no other than—
“Tanner?” I utter with a gasp, my hands covering my mouth at the shock of the scene before me.
“Shove the fuck off, you disgusting prat, before I turn your wrist into a pretzel.” Tanner pushes him into a nearby table, and the man almost topples over but catches himself before scurrying away without a look back.
Blue, angry eyes swerve to me. “Ryan,” Tanner growls, slicing a hand through his hair to get it off of his face. “I’ve texted you like twenty times.”
“I…I…I haven’t looked at my mobile in a while.”
“No fucking shit.” His bearded jaw is taut with anger. “I’m taking you home.”
He reaches out for my arm but I yank it away from him.
“No, you’re not.”
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “I’m taking you home. You’re completely pissed.”
My eyes narrow. “Of course I am. It’s Tequila Sunrise night.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he snaps. “Let’s go.”
I shoot him a murderous look when a voice interrupts us. “I’ve got mine. You got yours?” I turn to see Camden holding a sleepy-looking Indie against his body.
Determination slices through Tanner’s voice. “I’ve got her.”
I turn to face him, stumbling a bit as I wag my finger in his face. “Hey, I am not yours!” Suddenly, Tanner bends over and I’m airborne for a second, landing heavily on top of his shoulder. “Are you fucking kidding me, Harris?” I begin pounding on his back but it’s to no avail. “I’m in a dress. My arse is hanging out for all of England!”
“Your arse was hanging out when you spread out on the floor a minute ago. I’m taking you home, Ryan. Even if you’re kicking and screaming.”
“You’re such an arrogant arsehole!” My hands stop their assault on Tanner’s backside in favour of covering my rump. This is mortifying. I hang my head and let my hair cover my face, praying like fuck I don’t see anyone I know. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it, woman.” Tanner pauses at the door and turns his body so my head is facing a different direction. “Now, tell this nice man I’m not a rapist.”
A bouncer-looking bloke turns his head upside down to make eye contact with me. I mumble, “He’s not a rapist. Just a walking dead man.” I straighten a bit with my crescendoed scream. The bouncer lets out a hearty laugh that dumps hot coals into the pit of my belly. So not the reaction I was looking for.
He moves to let us pass and then Tanner drops me down in front of a cab. I ball up my fists and wallop him a few times. “I’m not a petulant child, you animal.”
He doesn’t even flinch.
I exhale in concession and fold myself in behind Indie and Camden. When we’re all in the cab and it begins moving, Tanner breaks the silence with a surprisingly jovial tone. “Well, did you all have a fun night?”
Meet “the other” Harris TWIN in Challenge!
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Amy Daws is a lover of all things British and her London-based love stories bring the incredible city to life on every page. Read all about hot British men, hilarious heroines, and unforgettable and original ensemble casts that pull out all the feels. For more of Amy’s work, visit www.amydawsauthor.com
They say the only way to go from there is up, but what is “up” when you’re born into someone else’s rock bottom?
At ten, football became my first love. It’s what got me out of the house away from my self-destructive family. My love for football landed me at Las Vegas University with a full ride scholarship, and the orange on my jersey was my favorite color…until my eyes landed on the red dress Fallyn wore the night we met.
At twenty-one, I jumped off the cliff into the unknown the second Fallyn McIntyre danced in my arms at a party. I had the greatest girl in the world and the opportunity to play college ball every Saturday. My rock bottom was looking up, thanks to my two first loves.
Parties, sex, and football—life was perfect. But one drink too many, and my world came crashing down. When I chose pills over my second love, my head told me it was the best decision I ever made. The pills keep me warm and protect me from the distance Fallyn created. Percs don’t judge me. They make me feel alive.
Threes.
They say the best things come in threes, but one leads to a stable future, one is my salvation, and the other drags me to hell—a hell I’d willingly burn in for eternity…if it weren’t for my second love.
Marie James: I’m a full-time, working mother of two boys and wife of 12 years. I’ve spent almost my entire lifetime living in central Texas, with only short stays in South Carolina, Alabama, and Florida. I’ve always wanted to write novels and just recently had the gumption to sit down and start one. My passions include reading everything under the sun and plotting out new books to write in the future.
by Rachel L. Demeter Fairy Tale Retellings, #1 Publication Date: March 15, 2017 Genres: Historical Romance, Fairy Tale Retelling, Gothic Romance, Adult
Experience the world’s most enchanting and timeless love story—retold with a dark and realistic twist.
A BEAST LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF HIS PAST
Reclusive and severely scarred Prince Adam Delacroix has remained hidden inside a secluded, decrepit castle ever since he witnessed his family’s brutal massacre. Cloaked in shadow, with only the lamentations of past ghosts for company, he has abandoned all hope, allowing the world to believe he died on that tragic eve twenty-five years ago.
A BEAUTY IN PURSUIT OF A BETTER FUTURE
Caught in a fierce snowstorm, beautiful and strong-willed Isabelle Rose seeks shelter at a castle—unaware that its beastly and disfigured master is much more than he appears to be. When he imprisons her gravely ill and blind father, she bravely offers herself in his place.
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
Stripped of his emotional defenses, Adam’s humanity reawakens as he encounters a kindred soul in Isabelle. Together they will wade through darkness and discover beauty and passion in the most unlikely of places. But when a monster from Isabelle’s former life threatens their new love, Demrov’s forgotten prince must emerge from his shadows and face the world once more…
Perfect for fans of Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty of the Beast brings a familiar and well-loved fairy tale to life with a rich setting in the kingdom of Demrov and a captivating, Gothic voice.
Beauty of the Beast is the first standalone installment in a series of classic fairy tales reimagined with a dark and realistic twist.
Disclaimer: This is an edgy retelling of the classic fairy tale. Due to strong sexual content, profanity, and dark subject matter, including an instance of sexual assault committed by the villain, Beauty of the Beast is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
? Book Trailer ?
?Excerpt?
~ Isabelle bravely takes her papa’s place ~
Quite a while later, as Isabelle relaxed and soaked in the hearth’s warmth, she found herself nodding off to sleep.
Her mind detached from the stress of the past few days and receded to another time and place. She recalled her journeys with Papa when she’d been little more than a girl. All the villages they’d passed through; all the faces they’d seen. She thought of reading fairy tales beneath a bejeweled sky, of leaning against a mountain of crates as Papa pointed out the constellations and their eternal stories—
Rattling seized her attention and ruptured her thoughts. She peered at Papa, who was carefully examining his teacup. Not with his sightless eyes, of course—but with wandering fingertips. The same impressive coat of arms engraved the fine proclaim; Papa ran his weathered fingers over its surface, clearly in awe of the raised gold decorations and studded gems. The thing must have cost a small fortune. Indeed, she’d never beheld such finery. Even the wares Papa had once sold paled in comparison. The faded brim of his top hat hung low and covered his glassy eyes.
Then her mouth went dry as he slipped the teacup inside his coat.
Has he gone mad—or simply grown that desperate? It was completely unlike Papa to steal. How could he—and after being shown hospitality?
Her outcry startled him.He half leapt from the chair—and Isabelle watched in horror as the teacup tumbled out from the coat. It rattled and rolled onto the stone ground, shattering into a million pieces.
A gloved hand broke through the darkness, quicker than a lightning strike. The hooded figure emerged from the shadows and seized Papa by his cravat. His other hand clasped a branch of flickering candles. The illumination flashed across the dark folds of his cloak, soaking him in a pool of light.
“Stealing from me, are you? Breaking my family’s keepsakes?” A sharp jerk forced Papa to his feet. The rough movement sent the top hat tumbling from his head and onto the stone floor. Papa’s waxen features melted into an expression of horror and confusion.
Her heart pounding, Isabelle lunged forward and frantically cried out, “Let him alone! It was an accident. Don’t you see that you’re frightening him?”
“Good.” The simple declaration threw Isabelle into stunned silence. Papa called out for her as the man strode from the sitting room, his solid legs eating up the ground in swift, decisive strides. Mon Dieu, he was physically dragging Papa through the castle.
This isn’t happening. It cannot be…
“Stop it! Stop it now—you monster!” Isabelle picked up her skirts and frantically chased after them. Parts of the castle were dark and unkempt, causing her to trip several times over wayward pieces of furniture. Her heart violently pounded in her ears. The man moved impressively fast; between his agile stride and sweeping cloak, he almost appeared to float through the corridors. Plopping onto the stone floor, his dog gave up trying to keep pace. Dust motes rose and fell in midair like ashes, obscuring her vision. She followed the branch’s illumination, watching as the candlelight threw prisms along the walls and floor.
“Please, monsieur. Have mercy, I beg you! He didn’t know any better. He’s not in his right mind. He would never—”
“No one steals from me.” His low voice echoed in the darkness, steady as a war drum.
Isabelle felt herself descending. She ducked as she crossed a low archway, where she was met with a steep flight of stairs. A mouth into Hell. The ceiling lurked unusually low and was strung with cobwebs. Isabelle hiked up her skirts, which were now a filthy mess, and raced down the decayed steps. The hooded figure kept a swift pace while she desperately pursued Papa’s frightened cries.
Plagued by the darkness, Isabelle tripped and crashed down the stone steps. Pain cascaded through her body, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her skinned knees and elbows throbbed, her heart pounded, her head burned. She spared a moment to catch her breath as she struggled to her feet and resumed her vain quest. Papa’s muffled pleas and the sound of slamming bars ripped at her very soul.
The dank dungeon was nearly black. She slowed her pace, moving toward a beam of light at the far end. Rats the size of kittens scurried across the stone floor and filled the darkness with their terrible squeaking. Her heart thudding, Isabelle rushed through the maze of cells, following Papa’s voice and that flickering light. Chains and crude-looking objects littered the ground—torture devices from a past age, she realized with a shudder.
She found them.
Papa was grasping the rusted bars; disoriented and frightened, he was murmuring incoherent pleas. Tears fell from his sightless eyes, though Isabelle knew he fought to restrain them. The branch of candles sat in front of the cell, its wavering light illuminating his terrified expression.
“Forgive me. I have wronged you when you showed my daughter and me hospitality and mercy. Please, monsieur!”
The man towered before him, silent and still. His long arms remaining crossed, he stood with his lean torso straighter than a broadsword. His hood was drawn back, though Isabelle couldn’t see his face from her angle.
“Papa, I’m here,” she said beneath the weight of a strained breath.
“I-Isabelle?”
Not sparing a moment, she dashed over to the cell—and the man slowly rotated into sight.
Except he resembled more of a beast than any man she’d ever seen.
Isabelle clamped both hands over her mouth and forced her eyes away. The sight burned—and the inferno in his gaze only kindled that fire.
Half of his face looked monstrously twisted; charred mounds of puckered flesh distorted the features beyond any recognition, draining him of all traces of humanity. Those heaps of burned, leather-like skin gleamed and glistened in the candlelight. His hairline receded on the left side of his face and slanted high above a shriveled ear.
Under the severe scarring, his age was more or less indistinguishable—though Isabelle guessed he wasn’t a day under thirty-five.
But his eyes were breathtaking. Two brilliant sapphires. There was also a great sadness and anger in those eyes, as if he’d suffered more than his share of original sin. Alas, as she gazed into his eyes, all she saw was blue ice—an endless, arctic landscape of cold desolation.
The man turned away, appearing greatly affected by her stare, and hastily rearranged the hood. His scarred hands trembled as he smoothed down the cloak’s thick folds.
“Release him,” she demanded. “He didn’t mean any harm. I—”
“No one meddles with my family’s possessions. He can rot down here as my prisoner. He ought to count himself fortunate that I haven’t taken his hand.”
“Your prisoner? This… this is a mistake! You must believe me. He’d never—”
A deep, husky chuckle cut through her plea. “Even so.”
“Please. Just let him out.”
“It’s too late for that.” Those words seemed to speak volumes. He exhaled a long breath, and Isabelle watched as it unfurled against the darkness in a cloud.
Silence.
“Why… why are you so angry? Why must you be so hateful? So cruel?”
“If I let him go,” he said at length, “what can you offer in return?” Isabelle couldn’t find her tongue. She wandered directly in front of the cell, almost in a lucid trance, and clasped the cold bars. Papa was huddled in the corner now, coughing and shivering. Guilt, unlike anything she’d known before, pulsated through her.
I’m to blame for this. And if Papa stays here, he’ll die well within a fortnight, likely much sooner…
“Get out of my sight.” The man’s voice jarred Isabelle from her inward stupor. She turned to him and stepped forward, raising her chin at a defiant angle.
I am not so easily broken or frightened.
I am a survivor.
She scanned her empty, dank surroundings: the cold stone walls, sweeping cobwebs, and blazing branch of candles. Despair encased her. Stark emptiness. She dared to step closer while a faint trace of pity bloomed inside her heart.
They stood centimeters apart. Heat radiated from the man’s body, surrounding her, immersing her. Isabelle vainly searched for softness him, but only a dark, embittered spirit reached her. She stared up at his towering frame and gestured for him to bow forward. He hesitated, then did as she commanded. Her hands shook, damn her, as she peeled back his hood and met that piercing gaze again.
Half of his face was handsome—devastatingly so. In her twenty-two years of life, she’d never beheld such haunting beauty.
Jet‑black waves, rich and flowing, framed the chiseled lines of his startling features. Stubble peppered the strong curve of his jawline and shadowed a smooth, sculpted cheekbone. The right side of his face was striking, beautiful—a stark contrast to its wrecked counterpart. And within those patrician angles and intense eyes, she encountered his humanity.
His was a face of inconsistencies. Complex. Damaged. Predatory. And more than a bit intriguing.
“I will stay with you,” she heard herself whisper. “In my father’s place.”
“Isabelle—no! I forbid it!”
The man folded long, strong arms across his broad chest. His gaze crawled down her face and settled on the rise of her breasts—planting directly on her silver cross.
“I demand he’s seen by the finest of physicians.”
“Isabelle! Listen to me! I’m an old man. I’m dying. I—”
The man’s dark, strangely erotic voice cut through the cellar, and his eyes whipped back to her own with a startling force. “As my mistress.”
“What?”
“You must stay here as my mistress. For as long as I demand. Perhaps forever.”
Forever.
The word rang with a note of finality.
“Please, Isabelle! I beg you. Don’t do this!”
How could I endure it?
“Do as I say and your father shall safely return home.” He waved his cloaked arms with a magician’s delicate grace. “Your father—whatever family you may have—shall want for nothing. A house, clothing, anything they require. You only need to say the word. Your father will be under my protection—under the care of nurses and physicians—until his last breath.”
Isabelle briefly recalled what—and who—was waiting for her back in Ruillé. This fate wouldn’t be much worse. This desolate castle could serve as the perfect hideout. Papa would live in France, free from Raphael’s clutches and in the hands of the world’s greatest physicians…
“How… how can I trust you?” And does he even have the wealth to uphold such a promise?
“You cannot.”
She had faith Papa would send help once his health recovered. Or she’d find a way out, means of escape. In the interim, she would survive this grim castle and whatever horrors it concealed.
Papa would not. The castle would crush him beneath its dark heel in a matter of days.
Isabelle glanced at Papa again, then stared into the man’s brilliant eyes. There, lurking within those expressive depths, she found the softness she’d pursued minutes before.
She sucked in her breath and nodded her agreement.
“It is done.” The man swept backward. “He’s to remain down here till first light. Then our agreement shall be carried out. In the meantime, I will bring blankets and food—”
“But it’s so cold! He—”
“Stole from me while he was a guest in my castle.”
He would not compromise. That much was certain.
“I demand to stay with him.”
“As you please.” He unlocked the cell. “Beyond the dungeon lies a labyrinth. Try to escape, and you’ll be lost forever.”
He tapped the wall with his booted heel. It swiveled, spun, and rotated, sweeping her captor to the other side…
?Excerpt?
~ Adam gives Isabelle his library ~
“Close your eyes, ma belle.”
Strong hands cupped either side of her face. She felt as Adam’s thumbs tentatively brushed back and forth, stroking her cheeks in reverent caresses. Isabelle shut her eyes and slipped beneath his spell… leaned closer in the darkness until they stood heartbeat to heartbeat. The warmth of his breaths teased her hairline, bringing with them a minty scent. His thumbs descended to just below her chin. She lowered her face… felt a featherlight kiss land on her brow. It happened so subtly and gently—Isabelle wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it.
She was allowing herself to feel too much. A stab of guilt penetrated her chest as her thoughts crept inward. Yet instincts told her to trust in her gut—to allow her heart to speak over her tumultuous thoughts. So she shoved away her guilt and allowed herself to simply feel.
Pounding footfalls echoed in the room, attesting to its sheer size. Isabelle waited in anticipation under the veil of darkness, her small hands knotted in Stranger’s wiry coat. The steady beat of Adam’s boots floated away from her. A loud whipping noise and a burst of light illuminated the room as he tugged a heavy damask curtain aside.
“Open your eyes, Isabelle.”
She did as he commanded. Shafts of sunlight tore inside, dancing across the marble floor in blaring prisms—though the darkness still obstructed the room’s contents. Isabelle’s imagination soared as she fantasized about what lay in those clotted shadows. Pale light fringed Adam’s formidable shape, contrasting his silhouette against the dim atmosphere.
He paused in front of the opened window and folded both arms behind his ramrod-straight back. Isabelle gazed at the line of his body, unable to tear her eyes away. Indeed, light from the window set him aglow, shrouding him in a cloak of gold. He wore black trousers and a white silk shirt, which fluttered lightly when he moved. Over the past several days, he’d made a habit of abandoning the cloak and hood. Isabelle had become accustomed to the mismatched sides of his face; where she once felt horror and revulsion, she now tingled with curiosity and budding admiration. Alas, the only true revulsion that remained was the memory of that night…
Adam was an undeniably prideful man, and she knew he’d only scorn her pity. Even his stance exuded a sense of importance and authority. Strange, how he was so often shy and almost childlike; then, as if by a flip of a coin, he’d turn regal, confident. It was as though he was battling two separate halves… as if an intricate part of himself kept fighting to emerge.
Not unlike the two contrasting sides of his face, Isabelle mused.
For a suspended moment, he stood in front of the conservatory window, his scarred hands planted on his lean hips as he surveyed the distant gardens. Then he crossed the room, his footfalls amplified by the medallion flooring, and thrust open another curtain.
Whoosh. Light flooded the space and chased away the shadows, and the room’s contents were ushered into view.
Isabelle nearly lost her breath at the sight.
It was a beautiful library—the most stunning sight she’d ever beheld. Ornate, intricately carved shelves towered against the painted walls and reached for a gilded ceiling. A baroque chandelier hung in the heart of the room; its crystals sparkled like diamonds as they drank in morning’s light. Isabelle fought to temper her racing heart as she gaped at the sweeping shelves. An intimate reading nook lined a curved window; lush pillows decorated the chaise, and a brass candelabra towered beside it.
In all her life, she’d never seen so many books. There were far too many to count. Too many books to read in one lifetime. Isabelle couldn’t help but think of the little storekeeper from Ruillé’s bookshop; she imagined his astonishment, how his bushy white brows would rise at the sight of Adam’s vast library. He’d run his wrinkled fingertips over the bindings and spines, reverently caressing each one. Her heart twisted with nostalgia at the thought of her former home. Once Raphael had entered her life, however, Ruillé had transformed into a prison.
This castle should have been just that. A jail cell. Yet she’d never felt more free than in that moment.
The library was larger than her whole cottage; several book-filled rooms connected to it, each one built with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Three sliding ladders were nestled against the circular walls, soaring to the very top of the domed ceiling.
She spun on her heels, twirling in place—watching as the immense collection flurried by in a fantastic mosaic of colorful spines and intricate woodwork.
Her eyes planted on Adam, who stood in front of the large row of glowing, arched windows. His arms were still folded behind his body, his sleek back straighter than an arrow. She couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t move forward, although she ached to reach out and embrace his solid body.
How would it feel to be enveloped inside that commanding strength?
A devastating smile spread across his misshapen features and cut her thought short. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, which was highlighted by the sun’s rays, and then hesitantly strode toward her. His boots rapped against the floor, and the sound swelled through the library. Stranger barked as he approached, the loud noise echoing in the room and jarring Isabelle from her trance.
“Do… do you like it?”
Finally he stood before her, silent and still. Isabelle inhaled a long breath, then laid her palm on the left side of his face. Her fingertips danced over the raised ridges and welts, the reddish scars and shriveled ear. His eyes shuttered closed, and she felt a shudder rake through his tense body.
“Yes. I love it.” And I’m starting to fall in love with you, too…
?Meet the Author?
Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing poignant romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and explore the redeeming power of love.
Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul.
Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness.
Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words.
Don’t be a stranger! Rachel loves to connect and interact with her readers:
New York Times bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is back with the highly-anticipated sequel to Big Girls Do It Running. In this book, Jasinda expands on the life-changing Wilder Way, showing you how to take the lessons and tactics learned in the first book and create a life of strength. Including all new recipes, beginner and advanced workout routines, and eating plans, Wilder Way 2.0 is designed to help you continue shedding pounds and inches while increasing your muscles mass.
Can’t do a single pushup? Think working out is for muscle-bound macho men and stick-thin fitness models? Think you have to hire an expensive personal trainer and spend hours in the gym every single day just to get fit? Think again!
If you read Big Girls Do It Running and participated in the Wilder Way eight-week challenge along with thousands of other health-seekers, then you went from couch to 5k, went from the on-again/off-again diet cycle to living a lifestyle of positive, delicious nutrition and fun, consistent movement. In Big Girls Do It Stronger, Jasinda Wilder builds on those lessons and shows you how to incorporate strength training into your daily routine, whether you’ve never done a single pushup or are a card-carrying member of the gym.
Filled with more practical advice, humorous anecdotes as only Jasinda can tell them, and life-altering real talk, Big Girls Do it Stronger has everything you need to find your strong.
What are you waiting for? Open the book and let’s get fit!
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New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and internationally bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is a Michigan native with a penchant for titillating tales about sexy men and strong women. Her bestselling titles include Alpha, Stripped, Wounded, and the #1 Amazon.com and international bestseller Falling into You. You can find her on her farm in northern Michigan with her husband, author Jack Wilder, her six children, and a menagerie of animals.
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Join Big Girls Do It Stronger Support group today!
Smith Hamilton has it all—he’s smart, good-looking and loaded. But he remembers a time when he had nothing and no one, so he’s not about to mess up, especially with his best friend’s little sister. That means keeping Evie at arm’s length … even though the once pesky little girl is now a buxom bombshell. A sexy blonde who pushes his self-control to the limit the night she crawls into bed with him.
Evie Reed knows she’s blessed—with an exclusive education, a family who loves her, and a new job managing social media for her family’s lingerie company. But she wants more, like a reason to wear the sexy lingerie herself. She has just the man in mind to help with that. She’s crushed on Smith forever. Surely tricking her way into his bed will force him to see her in a new, adult way.
Except that when Evie’s plan leads to disaster, she and Smith must decide—ignore the attraction sizzling between them, or become play mates and risk it all.
Ok – So I don’t think I have ever given a 3 star review to Kendall. And 3 stars isn’t bad by any means. This book is good, just for me it wasn’t my favorite from her. There were parts that were harder for me to believe and that took away the connection I usually get with her books.
The Play Mate is the 2nd book in Kendall’s Roommates series but can be read as a standalone. Every book features a new couple and nothing overlaps; no previous characters or needing to know about the previous book.
As with all Kendall Ryan books, I know to expect a quick, sweet, sexy and fun read. And The Play Mate is nothing short of that. Kendall writes her characters so they are relatable and honest and that helps makes her stories even more enjoyable.
The Play Mate is another brother’s best friend romances. Yes, I know this is starting to get played out a bit, but Kendall keeps it light and enjoyable. Evie attempts to seduce Smith one night and everything backfires. But she refuses to hang her head in shame and moves on.
Then they are stuck working together. Evie and Smith can both sense the tension and growing attraction that neither can hide. But Smith made it clear that he doesn’t want to move past the friend-zone. He’s her brother’s best friend and things would just ugly between all of them if they did. That is until he realizes it’s almost impossible to work with Evie on a daily basis and not die of slow death of blue balls.
These two try to keep it casual but we all know that won’t happen. As much as they keep their relationship a secret, they both fall for each other a little more during their time together. I enjoyed watching these two get to know one another in a new way. However, my biggest gripe is the whole no sex during most of that time. I’m sorry, I just don’t buy it. He’s a grown man who has needs. And seeing one another every day and night and it never once leads into sex after all that foreplay – that’s some really good restraint. Hell, I think I got blue balls a few times reading this. Geez. But enough about that.
Overall, the book was really enjoyable. I loved watching these two go from friends, to coworkers to lovers. The story moves at a great pace and there isn’t any huge drama. It’s a light and sugary story!
A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 2 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine. She lives in Texas with her husband and two sons.
Loss, betrayal, addiction . . . on their own, each of these heartaches can break you, but mix them all together and the concoction will ruin you.
When I closed the door on my past I didn’t expect it to come back and haunt me. But when you’re the sole person who can save the only man you’ve ever loved, you rush through that door, face your fears, and pray for the best.
Only, anything good has been long forgotten. In its place is destruction, devastation and enough regret to last a lifetime. I was appalled when she called for my help. I went willingly in hopes to make things right. But I never expected this. A broken man, a hopeless future, the beginning of the end.
She’s to blame for the mess of a man in front of me and I’m to blame for walking away.
Can things ever go back to the normal the three of us once knew? Or am I too late to fix the damage we’ve caused together?
Faith Andrews is living out her dream right outside the greatest city in the world, New York City. Happily married to her high school sweetheart, she is the mother of two beautiful and wild daughters, and a furry Yorkie son named Rocco Giovanni. When she’s not tapping her toes to a Mumford & Sons tune or busy being a dance mom, her nose is stuck in a book or she’s sitting behind the laptop, creating her next swoon worthy book boyfriend. Coffee addict, lover of wine and cheese, and sucker for concerts and Netflix, Faith believes in love at first sight and happily ever after.
Three countries.
Two months.
All expenses paid.
Just you and me.About you: You’re fun loving, adventurous and you have a wicked sense of humor. You’re spontaneous, open minded and creative. You live for today because you never know what tomorrow holds.
I’m Erin and this isn’t your usual Craigslist Ad. I’m twenty-four, and full disclosure, I’m dying. But I don’t want your pity. What I want is your help. I’m not looking for a nanny, or for someone to hold my hand. I want a friend, a confidante, a partner in crime.
“Who the hell books a flight for seven a.m.?” I grumble under my breath as I hoist my suitcase out from the boot of the taxi. I toss a twenty through the open window of the driver’s seat, telling him to keep the change. The whole twenty cents. Yeah, I’m generous like that.I’ve barely slept, which I guess is good considering the eighteen-hour flight I have ahead of me. Unless she’s going to want to talk the whole way, in which case no sleep is bad. Of course she is. Women always want to talk. Dying women probably take that to a whole other level. I chastise myself for being so insensitive. Let’s see if I can get through this trip without offending the girl. Or more realistically, let’s see if I can get through the week.
I stroll through departures, scanning the crowd for Erin. I’ve only met her twice now, but she was kind of unforgettable—hot in a she-has-no-idea-how-hot-she-is kind of way. Even that first time, all wet and dishevelled, she was mesmerizing.
My eyes fall on her and a smile tugs at my lips. She’s bent over her open bag, her long blond hair hanging loosely over her shoulder. It feels kind of wrong that I’m checking her out, given her situation, but I can’t help myself. I give it another minute before I walk over to join her.
“Hey,” I say.
She jumps, straightening up. Her face reddens when she faces me.
“You’re supposed to do the packing thing at home,” I tease her. Half her luggage is dumped onto the floor next to her, and I love that she doesn’t seem to give a shit.
“I’m looking for something,” she retorts, narrowing her stunning blue eyes.
I raise my eyebrows curiously and grin.
“It’s not important.”
“It obviously is,” I argue. I’m enjoying playing with her. “And the fact that you don’t want to tell me what it is makes me wonder…”
“Well stop wondering,” she replies. “If you want to do something useful, help me zip this up. It’s stuck.” She bends back over and gives the zip a yank, as if to prove her point.
“It’s stuck because you have this caught in it.” I grab hold of the offending material and back the zipper up. It releases, and I proudly hold it up. “Lacy and transparent,” I say when I realise I’m holding a pair of her panties. I let out a low whistle. “I’m impressed.”
She blushes and snatches them out of my hand, shoving them back in her suitcase. She zips it closed and glares at me. “I’m beginning to regret this already,” she growls.
“Never regret lacy panties, Erin,” I tease. “But seriously, I’m just messing with you. This trip will be great. Trust me. We’ll have fun.”
“I’m having trouble believing that,” she retorts, properly facing me for the first time.
Missy lives in a small town in Central Victoria with her husband, and her confused pets (a dog who think she’s a cat, a cat who thinks he’s a dog…you get the picture).
When she’s not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read.
Smith Hamilton has it all—he’s smart, good-looking and loaded. But he remembers a time when he had nothing and no one, so he’s not about to mess up, especially with his best friend’s little sister. That means keeping Evie at arm’s length … even though the once pesky little girl is now a buxom bombshell. A sexy blonde who pushes his self-control to the limit the night she crawls into bed with him.
Evie Reed knows she’s blessed—with an exclusive education, a family who loves her, and a new job managing social media for her family’s lingerie company. But she wants more, like a reason to wear the sexy lingerie herself. She has just the man in mind to help with that. She’s crushed on Smith forever. Surely tricking her way into his bed will force him to see her in a new, adult way.
Except that when Evie’s plan leads to disaster, she and Smith must decide—ignore the attraction sizzling between them, or become play mates and risk it all.
A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 2 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine. She lives in Texas with her husband and two sons.
EPISODE TWO: As a calculated assassin, Ripley thrives on always being in control. But when the woman he’s sworn to kill makes an offer he can’t refuse, his control is what he risks losing most.
Ripley They call me RIP. I’m a killer. A murderer. A psychopath. In the eyes of the righteous, I’m a monster, born of sin and depravity. I want to protect her, but I’m not a good man. I want to love her, but I no longer feel. She gets under my skin, though, and has awakened something inside of me. Something I’d kill for. I’m not her savior—not even close. In fact, I’m worse than the hell she’s already suffered. I’m her vengeance. Tit for tat, as they say. And if she’s not careful, I’ll be her ruin. Dylan For months, I’ve watched him. I’ve fantasized him as my savior, my lover. My ticket out of the hell I’ve lived in for the last six years. I never dreamed he’d be my nightmare. Had I known what he really is, I’d have never gotten in the car that night, but life is full of cause and effect. And sometimes the choice on offer isn’t a choice at all. It’s the result of something already in motion, and we’re merely left to survive the ripple effect. *This is an erotic suspense/erotic romance not recommended for readers under the age of 18 due to graphic violence and sex.
This series continues to get dirtier, grittier and more intense as we go.
We get to know more about Ripley and how he works – the inner workings of his brain. He’s no prince charming and he definitely shows no mercy to anyone. He’s a man we fear yet his intensity draws us in.
“For a monster, he’s stunning.”
Dylan is a firecracker. She’s learned to live life in the worst of ways and understands one thing – life will kill you, if you let it. She will not be a victim. She holds nothing back when it comes to Ripley and has no problem voicing her opinion, even though she knows he could easily end her life without thinking twice of it.
“But this is my world, and getting fucked over is all I’ve known.”
Keri has no boundaries when it comes to her writing. She’s got a fucking wicked mind and I would mind being trapped there for awhile. I love how she is able to take the most disrespectful and degrading things and makes them desirable in that moment; yet you can see how messed up it is too. You know it’s wrong, but you just can’t stop the curiosity.
I am ready for Episode 3 to take me even further into this dark and erotic world……
I open my eyes to the sting of sterile scents, like disinfectant and alcohol. A quick scan of my surroundings shows crisp white sheets, the cool fabric brushing against my legs—my bare legs. The dripping of water from before pounds louder, without the chasing echo. Scents. Sounds. Touch. As if my body has turned into a sharper frequency, everything around me seems more alive. More intense.
Attached to my left arm is an IV whose tube connects to a bag labeled saline, hanging off a hook sticking out from the wall. Two white patches are stuck to my arm, and I can’t begin to imagine what the hell they are. Maybe he mutilated me? What the hell is this guy, a doctor?
The stabbing pain from before has dulled to an ache of intense hunger or the craving of pills, I can’t discern. Nausea still grips me the same way it had when I drank too much cinnamon liquor one night and ended up at the side of the toilet with my sugar crashing. I’m not a diabetic or anything, but I remember Chanel gave me a glass of orange soda and the jitters disappeared. I feel cool and sweaty at the same time, clammy and exhausted.
I stare down at myself, noticing a thin white shirt. My bra has been removed along with my panties, leaving me naked beneath the oversized garment that must belong to my captor. The heavy comforter, far too elegant and plush for the mattress on which I’m lying, covers only my ankles, as if I’d kicked it off. Or someone else had.
What did he do while I was out?
I perform a quick mental rundown, only remembering flashes of the bathtub, which I’m certain was nothing but a dream. From my fingers to my toes, I concentrate on any pain. Wriggling my toes doesn’t point out a weird absence of one, flexing my calves, thighs, nothing. I attempt to pull my knees together, testing whether or not it produces an ache that might suggest he’d raped me, but chains keep me from crossing my legs.
In my pathetic assessment, I find there’s no damage, nothing to suggest mutilation of any sort. And no evidence of blood on the sheets.
With my arms still bound, I turn to the faint musky scent on my skin and breathe in the clean aroma. He did bathe me.
He. Rip.
His name loops over and over inside my head in some desperate bid for my conscious half to hang on to it. As if I’d forget the name of the killer who tied me to a wall in his dark and dingy basement.
My mouth is bone dry and I push a swallow past the burn in my throat.
The single light that illuminates my surroundings is both a blessing and a curse, as I begin to see things in the wall of darkness that separates my little halo. Hallucinations? Maybe. The drugs still swimming through my body certainly don’t rule out that possibility. A pale white spectral figure dangling from the ceiling shakes my core, and I screw my eyes shut, hoping it’ll fade away. The withdrawals have settled over me, commandeering my mind, and have me seeing things that don’t make sense.
Like the terrors of my youth.
Keri Lake is a married mother of two living in Michigan. By day, she tries to make use of the degrees she’s earned in science. By night, she writes dark contemporary, paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Though novels tend to be her focus, she also writes short stories and flash fiction on the many occasions distraction sucks her into the Land of Shiny Things. For news, updates and sneak peeks at the sexy cover model candidates for her annual Cover Model Contest, subscribe to her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/HJPHH
The night Willow Wilson walks through the doors of my private club, all my self-control vanishes. I am known as Lord Tower, master and owner of a discreet establishment where fantasies become a reality. Years ago when fate first brought Willow to me, she was my step-daughter. She called me Daddy, then. And she will again if I have my way. In the time since we’ve been apart, she’s only grown more beautiful. Her lush curves have filled out. Her heart calls to me. And I will have her even if I have to kick down the very doors of hell to make her mine. Right or wrong. But even Lords have weaknesses. And she is the one for which I will give everything, even if it means letting her go. Again. Author Note: Never fear, this book is still as safe as can be. There is as much darkness in this hot little read as there is light. As much swoony sweetness and steamy sexiness as you expect. But be warned, this Daddy is done waiting and his princess is about to be claimed.
I stare across the small table at Willow. Her beauty is unmatched. She is perfection in my eyes. Her hair gathered in a loose ponytail that runs over her left shoulder. I imagine it in my fist, pulling at it as I tell her all the beautiful, filthy things I intend to do to her. I absently reach down under the table and give my cock a stroke, trying to calm the growing need inside me. I shift my chair back and stand, taking the few steps over behind her chair, pulling it back. “Stand up, Princess.” She does as I ask without a word of question or complaint. Her compliance only serves to heighten the desire I feel for her. For my sweet girl. I reach down for her hand, guiding her as she stands in front of me as I step back, then stop to admire her for a long moment. “What are you doing?” She toys with the little infinity pendant around her neck, zipping it back and forth on the chain while her other arm belts at her waist. “Deciding.” I utter, my mind filling with all the filthy desires I’ve stored up just for her. “Deciding? What are you deciding?” She lets out a giggle, then bites into her bottom lip. “I’m deciding if I’m going to eat you before I fuck you, or fuck you and then eat you. If I could fuck you and eat you at the same time, I’d do that.” Her face turns to a deep shade of pink and she starts to shift her weight from one foot to the next. In my own way, I love her like this. A bit off. Slightly uncomfortable.
Wondering what is coming next. “Daddy needs you to take off all your clothes, my sweet girl. Slowly, now. Start with your shoes. Then your shirt. And last your skirt. Do it now.” My words harden at the end as my cock throbs and aches for her. The thought of seeing her naked for me sends my teeth into my own lip. Biting down as she begins to disrobe. Doing exactly as I said, one piece of clothing at a time, until she stands before me, glorious and exposed. “God, Princess. You make Daddy so hard. You know you’re going to take care of me tonight, don’t you? Let my cock into that pussy.” She nods and shifts, her hands unable to find where they should be. “I’m nervous.” She whispers. “Are you also wet?” Her apple cheeks ripen another shade. “I don’t know.” “You don’t? Well then, find out. Right hand. Two fingers. Now. Put them inside you.”
Dani Wyatt loves her alpha men; make them military, cowboys, MMA — any uber alpha with a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Receive a free exclusive unpublished title when you join Dani’s private readers group for updates, free chapters and discounts.
She’s a 40 something regular lady who just happens to love badass alpha males who pull your hair and love their women with a lethal passion.
When she’s not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can’t have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.
From New York Times Bestselling author Kristen Proby, comes a steamy new standalone romance in her bestselling Fusion Series…
BLUSH FOR ME!
About BLUSH FOR ME:
New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby continues to delight the senses with the latest novel in her delectable Fusion series.
As the take-charge wine bar manager of Seduction, Portland’s hottest new restaurant, Katrina Meyers is the definition of no-nonsense, and she isn’t afraid of anything. Well, almost anything: she hates to fly. When she’s forced to travel on a death trap with wings, the turbulence from hell has her reaching for any safe haven—including the incredibly handsome guy sitting next to her.
Ryan “Mac” MacKenzie hasn’t been able to get his sexy seatmate out of his head. The way she clung to him stirred something inside him he didn’t think existed: tenderness. As the owner of a successful wine touring company, Mac thinks he’s got a handle on what life can throw at him and he’s not prepared for any surprises, especially in the feelings department. And when he brings a tour into Seduction, he sees the petite spitfire he just can’t forget.
Mac is determined to discover what else they have in common besides fine wine and the inability to keep their hands off each other. But what will it take for two stubborn people to realize that what they have is so much more than a hot chemistry between the sheets and to admit to falling in love…?
Blush For Me is the third book in Kristen’s Fusion series. And I absolutely love these women and the men they meet. And I was so excited for Kat’s book and we finally have it!!
I love Kat – she is a very strong, independent woman who is truly ok with being single. She’s not out looking for her true love or out having one night stands. She is truly focused on her career and enjoying life as is. On a trip to Napa she meets Mac. And he’s exactly what she needs while on her sexcation – vacation sex with no strings.
After Kat is back home and back into the swing of things, she finds out that he too lives and works within the area. While neither are still looking for any sort of relationship, they both agree it would nice to stay hang out and still have their amazing sex. What they didn’t expect was to slowly fall for one another.
Kat and Mac prove that sometimes two people equally alike can still balance each other out. These two made me laugh and smile so much. Normally I am not one for too mushy, but these have an added flair with their hot bedroom sex that totally evened everything out. There was some family drama near the end that definitely added to the story and made things a little more interesting as it all played out.
Kristen has another great book under her belt and I can’t wait to see which book we get next. Is it Riley or Mia? Personally I want Mia’s but we shall see!!!
And Don’t Miss the First Two Standalone Novels in the Fusion Series!
“No.” I swallow hard and tighten my hands into fists.
“Okay, take a deep breath,” he says. He’s not touching me, which is good because I’d have to break his nose, and this is already stressful enough. But his voice is soothing. “Good. Take another one. Miss, can we get a bottle of water, please?”
I just keep breathing. The flight attendant returns with a little baby bottle of water, which Mac uncaps and holds out for me.
“Take a drink of this. Just a small sip.” I comply, the cold water feeling good on my throat. I feel ridiculous. This flight is full of people who are not having panic attacks.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “This is my biggest fear.”
“I can tell,” he says gently, and I raise my gaze to meet his. He’s a handsome guy, his short hair styled nicely, his jaw firm, eyes direct. He’s tall, with long arms and legs and a lean body. “How are you feeling?
“Better,” I reply, surprised to find it true. “The water helped. Thank you.”
“No problem. Are you going to Napa Valley on vacation?”
“Work,” I reply, shaking my head. “I’m attending a conference.”
“So you’re a wine enthusiast then?”
“You could say that,” I reply with a smile. “I own a wine bar in Portland.”
His eyes narrow for just a moment. “Really? Which one?”
“The one inside Seduction.”
“I’ve heard great things about that place.”
I smile widely now, intensely proud of the restaurant that my four friends and I have built from the ground up. Seduction is our baby, our pride and joy.
“That’s nice to hear,” I reply. “You’ve never been?”
“Not yet, but I’ll make a point to go the next time I’m in the area.”
So he doesn’t live in Portland.
Bummer. Mac is one guy I wouldn’t mind running into again.
“Wicked hot, charming, and wittingly captivating. Kristen Proby made me blush several times reading this sexy love story.”
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.
Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.
New York Times bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is back with the highly-anticipated sequel to Big Girls Do It Running. In this book, Jasinda expands on the life-changing Wilder Way, showing you how to take the lessons and tactics learned in the first book and create a life of strength. Including all new recipes, beginner and advanced workout routines, and eating plans, Wilder Way 2.0 is designed to help you continue shedding pounds and inches while increasing your muscles mass.
New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and internationally bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is a Michigan native with a penchant for titillating tales about sexy men and strong women. Her bestselling titles include Alpha, Stripped, Wounded, and the #1 Amazon.com and international bestseller Falling into You. You can find her on her farm in northern Michigan with her husband, author Jack Wilder, her six children, and a menagerie of animals.
Smith Hamilton has it all—he’s smart, good-looking and loaded. But he remembers a time when he had nothing and no one, so he’s not about to mess up, especially with his best friend’s little sister. That means keeping Evie at arm’s length … even though the once pesky little girl is now a buxom bombshell. A sexy blonde who pushes his self-control to the limit the night she crawls into bed with him.
A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 2 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine. She lives in Texas with her husband and two sons.
About Kristen Proby: