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Meet Dirty Dom in this fantastic stand-alone!

AVAILABLE NOW!

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Blurb

I’d like to tell you that I’m ok.

That the meaningless sex with countless women has somehow numbed the pain. That it’s deciphered the constant confusion in my head. Eased the self-hatred that sinks into my gut every time I look in the mirror.

I’d like to tell you that time heals all wounds.

That we evolve and grow into well-adjusted, stable adults, set on a path to right the world’s wrongs. That we are not our past…we are not our pain.

I want to tell you all those things. Hell, I want to believe all those things. But I’d be lying. I’m good at that. Living a lie is the only way I truly know how to survive.

But the day I saw her, I stopped surviving. I stopped existing. And for the first time in 24 years, I started living.

She brought me back to life. Set me free and sent my soul soaring. Made this useless shell of a man feel like…something. Something whole and real and good.

She saved me.

Although she believes I wasn’t even worth saving.

This story chronicles the journey of Dominic Trevino, a character from Fear of Falling. However, it can be read as a standalone.

Excerpt #1

I approached her slowly, letting my eyes take in her soft, feminine curves. That’s what I loved the most about women—their softness, their delicateness. It made them appear breakable, just like me. And it made me appreciate that vulnerability, in hopes that someone could—and would—one day, appreciate mine.

That’s why even though I never offered more than a few hours of toe-curling pleasure, I assured each second was spent tending to their sexual desires and making them feel treasured. Just because I was a whore, it didn’t make me callous or uncaring. If anything, it made me more aware of my humanity.

I pushed it all away, trading my own hang-ups and idiosyncrasies for the mental numbness that sex could provide and did what I do best: Fuck. I was good at this part—touching, kissing, licking. And when we were both ready—too ravenous with desire to consider my aversions—I drove into her slowly, all the way to the hilt. Until her body completely covered mine and soothed the ache of loneliness with wet warmth. This was the feeling I had been chasing since I was just a child, barely a man. That sweet oblivion that only mindless sex could provide. I was made whole by emptying myself into another, and for the barest of moments, I became separate from my pain and anger. I became the type of man that could look himself in the mirror and not see the horror of his past standing behind him, its razor sharp claws cutting into the skin of his shoulders while it smiled in that sinister way that still made my skin crawl.

I had seen that malevolence in my dreams every day since as long as I could remember. Sometimes it was in the form of a smile, a laugh. Sometimes it wore the face of ecstasy and passion. But it was always terrifying.

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling long after Alyssa had passed out in blissful exhaustion. She came twice, once by my tongue, the other with her ankles on my shoulders. She was a screamer, and I kept wondering if Angel would bust in here, wondering if I was fucking or killing the girl. Then, if Alyssa was up for it, she’d join, like she had just this past weekend with Cherri. It wasn’t that we wanted each other in that way—oh hell no. We were just better…together. It made it even easier to get out of our heads and lost in the movement of our bodies.

It was co-dependent like a motherfucker. And unhealthy. And unconventional. But it was all we knew.

Excerpt #2

Velvet sucked me until I was on the brink of release and for a quick moment, I thought about just getting it over with. But I needed more. I needed that physical connection. I yearned for her touch, her kiss, her smell. It reminded me that I was not like him. I was not what he had hoped I would be. It stated that just because I had been violated, that didn’t make me…it didn’t make different. It didn’t make me gay. I didn’t want that. I wanted this.

Spreading those shapely, toned thighs and filling her up until I pulsed in her womb validated me. Every stroke was a confirmation, and the deeper I went, the more whole I felt. But the moment it was over, the moment I pulled out of her, my latex-sheathed cock wet with her gratification, the doubt began to claw its way back in. Telling me that I was dirty—stained. Used. Useless.

She smiled lazily at me, the dark kohl outlining her eyes smudged along the apple of her cheek. I brushed it tenderly with the pad of my thumb and told her she was beautiful.

“Oh, Dom. You’re such a sweet gent. Too bloody sweet for this shit,” she giggled, looking soft and girlish. I liked her better that way, untarnished by the hardness of life.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Good guys like you shouldn’t be fucking strippers in the middle of the day. I mean, I’m not complaining—I can still feel you inside me, for crying out loud—but, I don’t know. You deserve better.”

I winced at her words, and how much I longed for them to be true. She was just feeding me more lies, and I was ingesting them like candy.

Except this one. This one I knew would never be true. Even if it was the one I wished for the most.

“Nah, I don’t. They don’t call me Dirty for nothing.”

Fear of Falling (A Fearless Novel)

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About the Author:

S.L. Jennings is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance, reality TV junkie, obsessive coffee drinker and collector of crazy.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter |Goodreads

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Today we are celebrating the release of SEARCHING FOR BEAUTIFUL by Jennifer Probst. This is the 3rd book in the Searching For series and it is published by Gallery Books. Check out the teaser and giveaway below for a chance to win a necklace and signed book.

SEARCHING FOR BEAUTIFUL Synopsis:

The highly anticipated third novel in the Searching For series from Jennifer Probst, “one of the most exciting breakout novelists” (USA Today), featuring a runaway bride and the man who wants to be more than just her best friend…

Genevieve MacKenzie has her life completely under control. About to wed the charming Chief doctor at the local hospital, she’s an up-and-coming surgeon with everything she could ever want. Until an escape through the church window on the day of her wedding sends her life into a tailspin…and flings her right into her best friend’s arms.

When Wolfe catches his best friend falling out a window on her wedding day, he doesn’t ask questions. He whisks her away, determined to watch over her and discover the truth behind her desperate escape. But when his feelings turn more than platonic, he realizes he may risk his most important relationship in order to protect his damaged heart, and the woman he loves.

Can Genevieve and Wolfe’s friendship turn into something deeper—or is it already too late for true love?

Add the book to Goodreads

PURCHASE SEARCHING FOR BEAUTIFUL

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AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Jennifer Probst – Bio:
Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.

She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean.
She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon’s Best Books for 2012. She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at www.jenniferprobst.com.

LINKS:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Meet Naomi and Vasily in the newest addition to the Hitman Series*

NOW AVAILABLE!

Published by Berkley, a division of Penguin

$7.99

Amazon US  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  iBooks  |  Google Play  |  Goodreads

*The first book in the series, Last Hit, has been optioned for a movie by Flame Ventures.

Blurb

Naomi: When I was kidnapped I thought only of survival. I don’t thrive well in chaos. That’s why I gave my captors exactly what they wanted: my skill with computers. Making millions for a crime lord who kept me imprisoned in his basement compound kept my family safe. When he was taken out, I thought my ticket to freedom had arrived. Wrong. I traded one keeper for another. This time I’m in the hands of a scarred, dark, demanding Russian who happens to be the head of the Bratva, a Russian crime organization. He wants my brain and my body. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued, but I can’t be a prisoner forever…no matter how good he makes me feel.

Vasily: At a young age, I was taught that a man without power is a puppet for all. I’ve clawed—and killed—my way to the top so that it is my heel on their necks. But to unify the fractured organization into an undefeatable machine, I need a technological genius to help me steal one particular artifact. That she is breathtaking, determined, and vulnerable is making her more dangerous than all of my enemies combined. But only I can keep her safe from the world that she now inhabits. Soon, I must choose between Naomi and Bratva law. But with every day that passes, this becomes a more impossible choice.

Excerpt:

“Do you wish for me to touch you?”

I nod, sucking in a breath when his thumb skates across my lower lip. I should be thinking GERMS BACTERIA CONJUNCTIVITIS HERPES SKIN CONTACT PATHOGENS but all I can focus on is how skittery and excited his touch makes me. My pulse jumps, and I realize that I’m as aroused now with him talking to me and touching me with his fingers as I was in the bathroom when I masturbated.

He pulls his hand away again, and I realize his other is gripping my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my back. I’m pulled against his chest, and I feel oddly secure here against him. Then, Vasily moves his fingers in the air again, as if to get my attention. I watch as his free hand now moves to my knee and firmly presses it back, nudging my legs apart.

And I’m helpless to protest. I want this. I want to know what’s going to happen when he touches me. I’m throbbing and aching with need, and my breath is coming as small, gasping little pants that are registering even in my distracted mind.

“Are you still unsettled?” he asks in a low voice.

“No,” I whisper, my tone matching his. “I’m aching.”

He groans softly, and then his hand glides up the inside of my thigh, the backs of his fingers skimming along my leg. Then, Vasily’s hand moves and he is cupping my pussy. He feels scorching hot against me, and just the sensation of his skin touching mine is making me anxious.

“You are very wet,” he rasps, and I notice curiously that his breathing is as rapid as my own. One of his fingers presses forward, parting the lips of my pussy and pushing in. “Very wet.”

“I can’t help it. It’s a natural reaction to stimuli, but I understand if it disturbs you—”

“I like it.” His voice is a guttural growl against my ear, and I shiver. I didn’t realize how close he’s pressed to me but I can feel his breath on my neck, and his head is canted toward mine, as if he is telling me secrets. “I like that your wetness is for me.”

“I don’t know if—” I begin to protest, but his finger taps against my clit, and I gasp, completely and utterly distracted by that quick touch. It feels . . . different to have a man do it for me. Very different. Intense. Raw. I grab his hand at the wrist and press my flesh against his fingers, asking for more.

“Tell me what you want, Naomi.”

“More.” I press his hand again, breathless, and my hips twitch. “Start with an even rhythm and circle the hood of my clit. Over time, speed up and increase the frequency of touches. You can change the pattern as you go but don’t let up until I come.”

He laughs again, and I stiffen, but then his finger begins to move against my clit, stroking it in tiny circles like I told him. “I like that you tell me exactly what you want, Naomi. There are no games with you.”

I’m confused at that. Isn’t that what he wants me to do? But then a second finger follows the first, and he’s rubbing wide circles around my clit, and adding an extra little stroke every now and then, and it feels like he’s taking my flesh between his fingers and just rubbing rubbing rubbing . . . And I love it.

“Just like that,” I tell him, closing my eyes and falling against his shoulder. I hold my knees open wider so he won’t stop touching me, and my hips begin to move, involuntarily following his fingers as he touches me.

“Do you like this?” His voice is rough, biting, and so close to my face.

I nod without opening my eyes, letting the sensations take over. “It feels much better when you do it,” I tell him, and cry out when one of his fingers dips lower and touches me . . . deeper. “What are you doing?”

“I am seeing if you like more touches.” His nose nuzzles against my face, and I press against him, seeming to need his caresses as much as I need his touch on my clitoris. “Are you frightened?”

“No, but I like the other touch better,” I tell him as his finger circles lower. “That one just makes me ache.”

“It makes your cunt ache to be filled,” he tells me. “Someday, you will let me fill it for you.”

I don’t reply; I don’t need to, because he circles a finger at the entrance to my core a moment longer, and then shifts his hand. My fingers graze over his, exploring—I feel too good to open my eyes and leave the sea of sensations—and I realize he’s now working my clit with his thumb. His finger presses deeper again, and I gasp when he sinks it into me.

I’m riding his hand.

He murmurs something in Russian and I feel his mouth press against my brow.

Then, as if he’s a car that’s changed gears, he begins to press his thumb against my clit rapidly. His speed is so fast that he practically feels as if he’s vibrating . . . and these motions carry down to the thick finger that’s buried deep inside me.

I’ve never experienced this double sensation before, and it’s overwhelming.

I bite my lip, and when that won’t hold my feelings inside, I burst into noisy gasps and my hands start clawing at him, at his shirt. I don’t know what I need, but this feels like too much. It’s overwhelming and twice as powerful as anything I’ve ever done to myself. “Stop, stop,” I breathe, even as I press my legs further apart and lift my hips against his hand.

“Vasily, stop. Vasily!”

“Keep saying my name like that, Naomi.”

“Vasily, please.” I pull at his shirt, practically butting my head against him as I writhe against his hand. “I need . . . something . . . more . . . not as fast. Too much!”

But he keeps twitching that intense thumb against my clit, stroking his finger inside me. He’s not stopping. If anything, he’s going faster.

And all of a sudden, my body can’t handle it anymore. I burst and a hard, choked noise rushes out of my throat, and my body clenches and I’m coming, coming, coming, endlessly coming.

I feel as if I’m being torn apart by pleasure so intense it’s making my toes curl even as the breath leaves my lungs. And all the while, I gasp like a dying fish and cling to his shirt.

Hypothesis? Destroyed.

Hitman Series Reading Order

Last Hit

Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  Google Play   |  iBooks

Last Breath

Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  Google Play  |  iBooks

About the Authors:

Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog.  She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

Website: http://jenfrederick.com/blog/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jensfred

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/p3ptasx

__________________

Jessica Clare has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the ‘naughty parts’ of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.

After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own – stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.

Website: http://jillmyles.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare?directed_target_id=0

Twitter: https://twitter.com/_JessicaClare

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/q4272wf

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