Into The Fire by Meredith Wild
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Other Books in the series:
On My Knees (The Bridge Series #1)
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EXCERPT:
“Hi there, handsome.”
“Well, hello, love.”
“You know,” I say as I lock the door behind him, then walk to my counter to close out the till and get ready to leave. “I’ve discovered that since you’ve been here, you’re very bad for my productivity.”
“How is that?” He leans on the counter and braces his chin on his fist, watching me.
“I’m closing the shop early, for one.”
“I do believe the sign in the window says you close at six.” He checks his watch. “And look at that, it’s six.”
“I haven’t actually closed at six since…well, I don’t remember. I usually chat with customers, redesign displays, shop for new stock. But most of that has been set aside because I seem to be spending most of my time with a certain sexy Brit. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
He raises a brow and stands to full height, taking my breath away. His ink is on display again in a simple black T-shirt, stretched over wide, muscular shoulders.
Where did my knees go again?
“Cute, am I?”
His accent gets even thicker when he’s turned on, and it’s on full blast now.
“Adorable.”
He slowly circles around the counter and leans into me, pinning my hips against it. His lips are inches from mine.
“I don’t think a man is supposed to becute.”
“No?” Oh, God, I can’t breathe right when he’s this close to me. His hands are on my hips now, his fingers under the hem of my blouse, and then gliding up my skin and over my bra to cup my breasts.
“We shouldn’t do this here.” Is that my voice? I sound breathy and turned on, which is pretty accurate.
“No one is here,” he says and brushes feather-soft kisses over my cheek to my ear. My body is one giant shiver. Thank God for the giant display I built today that blocks us from outside traffic.
As if by their own volition, my hands make their way down the back of his jeans to cup his very fine ass just as he nips my neck, making me gasp.
“How cute am I now?” he whispers, never taking his lips from my skin.
“You’re just precious,” I reply, hearing my own accent thicken along with his cock pressed to my belly.
“You make me laugh,” he says, smiling against my neck. “You make me so hard it hurts. And I’m grateful that you’re wearing a skirt.”
“Why is that?”
He reaches down and balls the material in his fists, raising it above my waist.
“You’re not wearing panties,” he says with surprise, his blue eyes pinned to mine.
“Not today.”
ABOUT KRISTEN PROBY:
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.
A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE FILLED WITH DARK DESIRES AND DANGEROUS SECRETS…
Emily Wayborn has made a decision.
She might not fully trust handsome and deadly Reeve Sallis, but he is the one person that gives her what she needs. With Reeve she can finally be herself. Submitting to him is the only thing keeping her grounded as the rest of her life falls apart. But the hotelier is a master at keeping secrets and as she continues her quest for answers someone is making sure she doesn’t find them.
Time is running out and she is questioning everything she thought she knew about friendship and love. She must now make an impossible choice that will determine if she will survive with her heart…or at all.
Reeve smirked—he loved it when I begged—but he didn’t take me where I wanted to go. Instead, with his fingers pinching my chin, he twisted my face so that my cheek pressed against the glass.
“Look,” he said in reverence.
The mirror ran the whole wall behind me then wrapped around the vanity so, facing this direction, I could see our reflections in the glass, half eclipsed by steam from the shower. He let go of me long enough to wipe the fog then resumed his grip on my jaw. I stared, transfixed by the sight of his cock driving into me over and over.
With my focus where he wanted it, Reeve rearranged my legs, bringing one foot up to brace on the counter and propping the other in the sink. Now I was angled so that my cunt could better be seen in the mirror. It was naughty and erotic and I couldn’t stop staring.
“Look at that,” he said again, his fingers jabbing into my skin. “The way you let me use you is so beautiful.”
Beautiful. It was beautiful. The way he had me spread out awkwardly across the bathroom sink, naked while he was still clothed—it was vile and wicked and oh, so beautiful.
“I can’t control myself when I’m inside you.” His voice was ragged and threadbare. “I want to tear you apart. I want to rip you to shreds.” He moved both of his hands to grasp my thighs, tilting my pelvis so that his thrusts hit even deeper. “I want to destroy you. Want to fuck you to pieces. Want to shatter you. Want to break you.”
His awful, wonderful words set a storm to gather low inside me, and I could tell that this time it wouldn’t back down. I shifted my hands from the counter to his forearms to brace myself for its attack. The movement drew his attention from the mirror to my face.
“Want to break you,” he repeated, his words more of a rumble than actual speech.
“You do,” I said, peering up under heavy lids, my voice a mere rasp. “You do break me. Every time.”
Reeve’s eyes sparked in awe, then the muscles in his neck grew taut and his rhythm stuttered. With a low growl, he froze and spilled into me, his fingers digging so deep into my skin I was sure they’d leave bruises on my thighs.
It was so hot, how he defiled and wrecked me. So hot how he loved to see me devastated. So hot that I joined him in his release. My mouth fell open and my climax took over, coarsely racking through my body. Even with the mirror supporting my back, I was freefalling, spinning with pleasure. Only a thin layer of sweat and steam covered my body, but it felt like I’d been pulled underwater into a whirlpool of bliss.
Reeve put himself away, then watched me as I finished, as if completely enamored with my orgasm. As if completely enamored with me.
It was somewhat disconcerting to feel his eyes so heavy on me. He’d seen me come so many times before, but I’d never noticed him so intent. I lowered my gaze, but he lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his stare head-on.
With a gentle touch, he swept a lock of sweat-drenched hair from my forehead. “Every time?”
He’d been tender with me in the past, but it wasn’t his usual M.O., and it startled me. Moved me as I realized it came from a place of concern.
“Yes,” I answered honestly, because he did break me, every time that he stuck his cock inside me, every time that he made me climax, every time that he touched me. Outside of the moment, when the sex was over and we were people instead of sex-driven beasts, it sounded horrible. Who would want to be broken by her lover? Who would want to be destroyed?
I do. I always did. I longed for it and needed it. I needed him.
I caught his hand and pressed the back of it to my cheek. “It’s the only reason I ever want to be someone who’s put together. So that you can break me all over again.”
NY Times & USA Today Bestselling author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender.
Everything is the story every Book Boyfriend fan has been
waiting for!
Preorder your copy at the following retailers:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Sd9zD2
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1UF88TP
Add Everything to your TBR for a June 23rd release here:
http://bit.ly/24M8UBF
Music was was part of my DNA, pumping hard through my veins, resonating deep
within my bones. Not surprising, considering my dad was a global rock star and
my mom had the voice of a fallen angel.
With my twin sister by my side in our indierock duo, Singed Wings, we were
ready to finally see our name in lights when we opened for the hottest act to sell
out stadiums – Jobu’s Rum Summer Reunion Tour.
The life I’d always wanted was finally within my reach. All I had left to do was
finish out my last semester of high school.
But there was one problem: Ms. Sloan, the new art history teacher.
The same Ms. Sloan I’d met as Belle, the sexy little pixie who’d captivated me at a
New Year’s Eve concert last year.
The same Ms. Sloan who’d owned nearly every one of my thoughts since that
night.
The same Ms. Sloan whose class I was in danger of failing.
With my dream gig dangling just on the other side of that cap and gown, all of my
focus should’ve been on my school work and improving my music as I prepared
for my big shot to rock the world…
But I never expected her to rock mine first… and to change everything.
Everything is a standalone novel. It is a spinoff from the Book Boyfriend Series.
I leaned down to her level then skimmed the tip of my nose along her jawline,
inhaling her intoxicating scent. “But you are out with him? Like together, on a
date?”
With a soft moan, her head lolled to the side, granting me access to the smooth,
creamy skin of her neck. “Not together,” she rasped, her eyelids fluttering closed.
“Friends… we’re just friends. I promise.”
Her words immediately erased most of the anger jetting through my veins. I still
wasn’t happy she was out with him, because I knew damned well Mr. Carroll
wasn’t interested in being “just friends.” But that was his fucking problem.
“And us?” I asked, as my mouth grazed from her throat to her hairline. “Are we
just friends too, beautiful Belle?”
“We’re not friends,” she hissed when I caught her earlobe between my teeth and
flicked my tongue over it. “And we shouldn’t… we can’t do this again. I’m your
teacher.”
She made no attempt to open her eyes or to move away despite her claim, and I had
no intention of stopping until she explicitly told me to. As she fought her own inner
battle of right versus wrong, mind against body, I planned on showing her every
reason we absolutely should and could do it again. And again and again.
“Indeed you are, Ms. Sloan,” I murmured against her delicate flesh, ghosting kisses
from her ear to her barelyparted lips. “But right now, I think it’s time you learn a
little lesson of your own.”
My mouth slammed down on hers, swallowing whatever her response was going to
be. The lesson I had in mind involved a lot of doing, and not much talking. The
question and answer portion came after the handson demonstration.
I swept my tongue across her lips, and she opened up for me without any
resistance. My dick throbbed and twitched against my zipper as her hands fisted
my shirt and tugged me closer. Our tongues melted together, the intensity of the
kiss building deeper and deeper until I had to break free.
“Everett,” she breathed, reaching for me as I drew back. God, the sound of my
name on her lips, full of desperate need, was like a direct hit of lightning between
my legs. Instantly, I was rockfuckinghard.
Belle Sloan awakened the untamed, possessive animal that lurked inside me. One I
never knew existed before her. And there was no way of putting him back in his
cage now.
Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband, two daughters,
and three fur babies. When she’s not reading or writing romance novels, she enjoys
winning at cards and board games, awkward peoplewatching in public places, and
doing cartwheels at the most random times. She’s usually barefoot, is never
without a song in her head, and currently holds the title of World’s Best
Procrastinator.
Her titles published include the Book Boyfriend Series, Dusk ‘Til Dawn Series,
Luminous Duet, Fire on the Mountain series, and numerous standalone books that
range from New Adult to Contemporary romance. Her books have been a part of
the USA Today Bestselling list as well as the Amazon and Barnes & Noble overall
Top 100. You can follow her on Facebook @ www.facebook.com/erin.noelle.98,
her blog @ www.erinnoelleauthor.com, on Twitter @authorenoelle, and on
Instagram @erinnoelleauthor.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Cassie
I brew coffee downstairs, being careful not to make too much noise. He hates it when I’m loud. He likes to wake up gradually. I trudge upstairs, my bare feet freezing on the threadbare carpet.
I bring the coffee and I set it beside him. I pull one curtain open, just the way he likes it. It’s been snowing again. It’s so beautiful out there. So empty.
“Good morning,” he says. I turn away from the snow, my retinas pulsing and blind in the center of my vision from the stark white burst of light outside.
Sometimes, if I can get on his good side when he first wakes up, he’ll be nice to me for the rest of the day. Lately that happens less and less, but I still try.
“Sleep well?” he asks, sipping his coffee. He hands it to me and I take a sip. I don’t like coffee the way he has it, but he insists on sharing with me, probably to ensure I don’t poison him. He’s a smart man. Thinks of everything.
I ache between my thighs. I’m reminded of the night before. Of the guy who crept into my bedroom and fucked me until I hurt.
“Like the dead,” I reply. I had to check and make sure he was in a deep sleep before I showered the evidence away last night. I couldn’t risk him waking up and hearing me.
He smiles lazily, his eyes still puffy from sleep. The smile that could dazzle the entire female population has a hard edge to it. “I can see the cogs turning in your brain, Cassandra. What are you daydreaming about?”
I sit on the edge of the bed. My legs are tired and my head hurts.
“I remembered what a sociopath is.”
“Oh, yeah?” He props himself up on one elbow, the coffee finished, the cup discarded somewhere on the dresser beside him. “Enlighten me.”
“Somebody who’s empty inside. Somebody who needs to take from everybody else to fill them up. Because they were born wrong. Because there’s nothing inside them.”
He smiles; his lazulite eyes crease up ever-so-slightly at the edges. I imagine how beautiful he would have looked as a young child; how his mother would have melted whenever he smiled up at her. Because his eyes deceive. They don’t look empty. They’re beautiful, full of the souls of everyone else he’s sucked dry and left in his quest to find that something, that perfect thing to fill him up.
I can see myself in his eyes. My soul. He’s taken it from me.
“Do you feel empty?” I whisper.
He rests a hand on my upper thigh, all trace of his smile gone as he matches his fingers to the bruises he left on me in the night, in the dark. “Not when I’m inside you.”
The man I’ve been fucking for the past year, or rather, the man who’s been fucking me — his eyes gleam in the harsh sunlight that casts a brightness over the bedroom, bathing it in some macabre stage lights that scream: Action! But this isn’t make-believe, and the curtains won’t fall at the end of our grotesque little act, and after we’re done here, I won’t be able to peel my mask off and toss it on the ground as I exit the stage.
I swallow thickly. I wish he’d get tired of me.
“I heard you in the shower last night,” he says, his fingers squeezing into my flesh. “After I left you, you thought you could just wash me off like nothing happened, huh?”
My cheeks burn as I try to twist away from him; He sits up in bed and reaches for my throat, crushing my windpipe as he pulls my face to his.
“You need to learn,” he says, “that I know everything about you, Cassie. I know what you think. I know where you are. I know where you’re going. I know more about you than you know about yourself, darlin’.
I choke.
“Say sorry,” he says, loosening his grip.
“I’m sorry!” I wheeze, my throat burning as tears stream down from my eyes.
“Not like that. Show me how sorry you are. Apologize.”
He pulls the covers back and fists a hand in my long hair, wrenching me down into his lap.
I do what I’m told. I show him just how sorry I am. I’m not sorry for washing him off me last night, though. I’m sorry that he ever came to this godforsaken town and ruined our lives.
PRE-ORDER EXCLUSIVELY ON iBooks
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Add to your TBR here: http://bit.ly/1O9Plbg
RELEASE DATE: June 27th, 2016
Blurb
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?
In the middle of a fierce snowstorm in Gun Creek, Nevada, a teenage girl disappears without a trace.
The second girl in as many years.
Identical cases. Identical conditions. Only last time, the girl was found. Dead, floating face-down in the creek that feeds the town’s water supply.
The killer was never found.
As the small town mobilises and searches for newly vanished Jennifer Thomas, one suspect comes to the fore. But did he do it? Or is there something else at play? Something nobody could have anticipated?
For Jennifer’s classmate Cassie Carlino, the worst is yet to come. As she pins MISSING posters to store windows and joins the search, she begins to suspect that Jennifer’s disappearance might be much closer to her than she could have ever imagined.
Lili Saint Germain
Lili writes dark, disturbing romance. Her #1 bestselling Gypsy Brothers series was created in a serial format – quick, intense episodes released frequently with some wicked cliffhangers. The Gypsy Brothers series focuses on a morally bankrupt biker gang and the girl who seeks her vengeance upon them. The Cartel series is a prequel trilogy of full-length novels that explores the beginnings of the club, to be released in 2015 by HarperCollins.
Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, good coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Pinterest.
She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest
To See You by Rachel Blaufeld is a new emotional standalone coming June 2016!
No cliffhanger, only hard-earned unexpected love. And angst.
Read the first three chapters and pre-order your copy
exclusively on iBooks: http://apple.co/1OrSMfi
Add To See You to your TBR at: http://bit.ly/24lwZgC
To See You by Rachel Blaufeld from Bibliophile Productions on Vimeo.
Meet Rachel
Rachel Blaufeld is a social worker/entrepreneur/blogger turned author. Fearless about sharing her opinion, Rachel captured the ear of stay-at-home and working moms on her blog,BacknGrooveMom, chronicling her adventures in parenting tweens and inventing a product, often at the same time. She has also blogged for The Huffington Post, Modern Mom, and StartupNation.
Turning her focus on her sometimes wild-and-crazy creative side, it only took Rachel two decades to do exactly what she wanted to do—write a fiction novel. Now she spends way too many hours in local coffee shops plotting her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end lusciously.
Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two dogs. Her obsessions include running, coffee, icing-filled doughnuts, anti-heroes, and mighty fine epilogues.
Stalk Rachel at: website / Twitter / Facebook
Sign up for her newsletter for the latest news on releases, sales, giveaways and other updates.
THANK YOU!
I remember the lights.
I remember I wanted to photograph them, the way the red and blue splashed across his cold, emotionless face. But I knew even if my feet could move from the place where they had cemented themselves to the ground and I could run for my camera, I wouldn’t be able to capture that moment.
I had trusted him, I had loved him, and even though my body had changed that summer, he’d made sure to help me hold on to who I was inside, regardless of how the exterior altered.
But then everything changed.
He stole my innocence. He scarred my heart. He took everything I thought I knew about my life and fast-pitched it out the window, shattering the glass that held my world together in the process.
I remember the lights.
The passionate, desperate, hot strikes of red. The harsh, cruel, icy bolts of blue.
They symbolized everything I endured that summer.
And everything I would never face again.
Ok. So I will probably be in the minority where I wasn’t in love with this book. I enjoyed reading this book. But where I can’t love it is the blurb doesn’t exactly fit the whole nature of this book. I was expecting a totally different story than what I got.
Kandi has always written great stories. Her plot lines are always interesting and keep you glued to your seat. Her characters are always intriguing and you can relate to them. And Kandi delivered this in Weightless. However, again I felt a little mislead with blurb.
Natalie is a girl a lot of us could probably relate to you in many ways. She struggles with her weight but has never let that hold her back. She’s always accepted her looks and has been comfortable with it.
Rhodes I am torn on. I had a harder time connecting to him because he seemed so wish washy. He’s a kid from the other side of the tracks, had run-ins with the law and grew up in foster homes. I kind of the got the feeling that Kandi was trying to make him seem like the dangerous type but when you are working on at the swanky country club, and no is afraid of you, it’s hard to keep that vibe going. So yea – he’s meh for me.
Rhodes becomes Natalie’s trainer at the gym. They slowly become friends and Natalie gets him to open up little by little. The majority of the book is watching their relationship develop, which I absolutely loved. Kandi wrote this portion of the book flawlessly. It’s why the book gets the 3.5 stars! These two know how to pull each other out from behind their walls. And watching them grow not just together but individually was amazing.
There’s another part to this story, which I won’t reveal, that I felt could have been more developed and made the book even better. This is where I was let down with the book. I felt the ending was too rushed and this portion of the plot was glazed over way too much. The blurb is based on this portion of the book and it only occupies a small part of the book – it’s misleading when the majority of the book is based on something else completely.
With that being said, the book is written beautifully and I loved it. I wish I could explain all the thoughts going on in my head. It’s almost like there was two different plots going on. The one was well developed and thought it, while the one that’s based on the blurb was glossed over and made not so important in the book. This is where I find myself struggling to rate this book higher.
Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.
Kandi started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies).
When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.
Today is the release day for Rachel Higginson’s BET ON ME! I am so excited to share this fantastic contemporary romance with you! Grab your copy today and be sure to enter Rachel’s giveaway!
About Bet on Me:
One night. One big mistake. One boy that changes everything.
Britte Nichols has a plan.
And it’s a good one. College. Med School. Illustrious career. Then maybe a husband. Possibly children, but she doesn’t want to get ahead of herself.
Britte decided at a young age that she wasn’t going to let love get in the way of her future. She has things to do. Places to go and all that.
Until the night she has one too many drinks and lets lust override logic.
Beckett Harris is gorgeous, talented and completely bad for her. But she wasn’t the only one feeling fireworks that night. Now Beckett wants to explore their chemistry and his timing couldn’t be more inconvenient.
Her heart wants what her head knows she can’t have. But a girl has needs. So when Beckett bets her a few weeks of harmless fun, she wants to say yes.
She’ll just have to bet that Beckett doesn’t fall for her too.
Buy Links:
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Exclusive Excerpt:
Other students had dressed warmer than me, apparently prepared for the day to continue dipping toward frozen. I’d grabbed my huge blanket scarf, but opted to leave my coat at home.
Stupid.
Stupid mistake.
Still, the kids I passed, had their heads dipped low and their arms wrapped around their bodies as they fought against the wind on their way to class or the cafeteria.
“Nichols!” A muffled shout carried on the wind. I could have almost believed I’d imagined it. But then I heard it again. “Nichols!”
I turned around, and the wind hit the back of my head, but I could hear clearly. “Britte!”
My gaze moved to the source of the sound. Beckett. Shit.
It was too late to pretend I hadn’t heard him now. Even though I could have gotten away with it just three seconds earlier. Damn, why had I turned?
He wore a goofy grin on his face, and a maroon and gray school polo beneath a black fleece zip up. He jogged toward me, and I realized how unfair life was.
It shouldn’t be so difficult to turn around and walk away from him. I had acted like the biggest idiot the other night. Surely he hated me.
And if he didn’t, he should. I wasn’t too self-absorbed to realize he had done nothing wrong except been oblivious to all of my issues. I’d bit his head off for just mentioning my mom.
There was no way he could have understood the deeper issues I had with her and why it was so impossible for me to ever see her or speak to her. He assumed the entire world revolved like his world, where everything was set out perfectly before you and opportunities just fell into your lap.
Beckett was in grad school with the perfect job lined up for him. And if he didn’t want that job, he could chase his dream job instead and be a coach. Sure, he was having an existential crisis, but it was between two fantastic options.
And no matter what, his picture-perfect family would be there to support him through everything.
Sure, I had the support system in my dad too. But my future was less certain, less neatly lined up. My future was not a Hallmark movie.
It was a series on the Disaster Channel.
Oh, there wasn’t such a thing? Because nobody wanted to watch tragedy after calamity after catastrophe. It was painful.
He stopped in front of me, shoving his hands into his pockets and keeping his boyish smile. “Hey.”
I should have just opened my mouth and apologized. That would have been the right thing to do. But I was so confused why he wasn’t avoiding me, that I stood there awkwardly until he raised his eyebrows. Then I managed a smoothly brilliant, “Hey.”
He was unfazed. “Just get done with class?”
I shifted my bag on my shoulder. “Yep.”
He took a big enough breath that his shoulders lifted and for the first time since he’d arrived, I realized he wasn’t unflappable. He didn’t know what to do with this strained energy between us anymore than I did.
No, that was a lie.
I knew I should apologize. I just wasn’t going to.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I have work to do. That’s why I’m here.”
My chin jutted forward. “I recognized the polo.”
His eyes glanced down at his chest as if just remembering what he was wearing. “Oh, right.”
Silence followed and stretched and thickened the air between us.
“I have to work tonight too,” I said just by way of filling up the space. “In like an hour.”
“Is Ellie working with you?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
He shook his head, and the smile reappeared. “I don’t know what Ty is thinking always scheduling you two together. You’re trouble.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I had wondered the same thing more than once. “He loves us. And he loves our trouble.”
“It’s pathetic what you two do to men.”
I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I didn’t. We honestly didn’t really do anything to men. Other than mess things up with them.
Or maybe that was just me.
Ellie seemed to be doing fine with her man.
“Hey, Beckett, about the other night—”
He waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Britte. I get it. I had no idea what I was talking about, and I shouldn’t have assumed my advice was welcome.”
“Well…” I had already started in on an argument to tell him the very same thing so when his words finally penetrated my brain, I didn’t know where to go next. “Yeah, er, right.”
His smile stretched to his eyes. “I’m the one that’s sorry, Britte. But you should know it might happen again. We’re just getting to know each other. I’m going to try to not stay stupid stuff. But odds are not in my favor.”
A smile finally broke free on my face. “You still want to get to know me?”
He took a step forward, “You’re kidding right? That’s pretty much all I want to do…get to know you…” His fingers brushed down my arm. “Every single piece of you.”
His hand encircled my wrist, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. And had I been complaining about the cold? Because now I was pretty sure I was burning up from the inside out.
His touch seared through me, straight to the bone. I found it comforting and unnerving and distracting and centering all at once. My emotions whirled through me like a brewing storm, dark on the horizon, filled with heavy weather and bursts of bright lightning.
“I don’t like how we ended our time together the other night,” he murmured, stepping closer.
His hold on my wrist felt like an anchor now. There was a part of me that wanted to run…to escape this intense moment that went against everything I had decided about Beckett and a relationship with him.
But his touch kept me in place. His touch erased doubt and concern and fear.
“What do you mean?” I managed to ask.
His head dipped toward mine. “I let you go,” he whispered. “When I should have chased after you.”
I closed my eyes against the assault of intense emotions. It was too much. Beckett was too much.
His lips brushed against mine, whispering words that made my heart pound in my chest and my skin tingle with anticipation. “And I should never have let you leave without this.”
And then he was kissing me and stealing all reason and logic and rational thought. I melted into him without a fight…without resistance.
He kissed me, and I kissed him back. That was it. Like it was supposed to happen all along. Like I was meant to kiss him. Like I was created just to bring his lips happiness.
His hand moved from my wrist to my waist, tugging me against him at the same time he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Our tongues tangled together in blissful connection, and I made a sound in the back of my throat that I should have been embarrassed of.
It only encouraged him, though. His other hand joined the first on my waist, holding me against him until I felt his entire body pressed up against mine, all hardened muscle, and masculine power. I felt soft against him, delicate and feminine, but powerful in the same breath.
There was something about his hardness against my softness that gave me the advantage, not him. I felt it wash over him as his fingers curled into my hips and his kisses became hungrier…greedier.
My hands landed on his chest and then slowly smoothed over his shoulders to entwine around his neck. This position was better. This position let me feel him even more. My nipples tingled where they pressed into his chest and my belly burned with something primitive and needy.
His teeth bit into my lower lip, but his tongue was quick to follow, soothing the sting. I mimicked him a minute later, letting my teeth sink into his full bottom lip, enjoying the feel of it before running my tongue over the same spot.
He made a growly sound and tipped me back, supporting my weight with one hand on my lower back and the other cupping my nape, holding my head in place.
His kissed moved over my cheek, along the curve of my jaw and down my neck until he found the hollow of my throat. His tongue dipped into that spot and then he sucked, hard. I laughed, surprised by the sensation.
His chest rumbled with laughter too, but then he was kissing lower, brushing the tops of my breasts through my scarf and sweater. My fingers dug into his hair, desperate for support. I felt his smile as he slowly kissed his way back to my mouth, enjoying every single inch of me.
With one final, sweet kiss on my lips, he pulled back so he could stare down at me, still holding me to him, still keeping me wrapped in his strong, firm arms.
Looking up at him was like staring directly at the sun. He was too bright…too hot. His lids were only half-raised, droopy with lust and warmth. His pupils were dilated, nearly blocking out that heated gray. His smile was seductively crooked, promising wicked secrets I was desperate to know.
How could this gorgeous man be real?
He belonged in a romance novels and chick flicks.
I blinked, realizing that I didn’t. I wasn’t fiction worthy. I was bookish and awkward and neurotic. I also realized that we were standing in the middle of campus and that people had had to move around us while we made out on the sidewalk like two horn dogs.
I cleared my throat and stepped back. “I have to go to work.”
His hands grabbed mine, holding on loosely. “Me too.”
I licked my lips. “I’d rather keep doing that, though.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Me too.”
I didn’t know what to say after that, so I took another step back, and our fingers reluctantly let go of each other.
“Bye, Beckett.”
Those heavy gray eyes lifted to mine. “I’ll text you later, Britte.”
I nodded, biting my lip to hide my smile. “I figured.”
His mouth kicked up in a half smile. “Good.”
I turned around quickly, afraid that if I stood there for a second longer with him staring at me like that, I would throw myself on top of him, wrap my legs around him like a spider monkey and attack his face with my mouth.
About Rachel Higginson:
Rachel Higginson is the author of The Five Stages of Falling in Love, Every Wrong Reason, The Star-Crossed Series, Love & Decay Novella Series and much more!
She was born and raised in Nebraska, and spent her college years traveling the world. She fell in love with Eastern Europe, Paris, Indian Food and the beautiful beaches of Sri Lanka, but came back home to marry her high school sweetheart. Now she spends her days writing stories and raising four amazing kids.
Connect with Rachel:
Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/rachelhigginsonauthor/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mywritesdntbite/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Mywritesdntbite
Website: http://www.rachelhigginson.com/
Enter Rachel’s Giveaway:
We are very thrilled to bring to you the cover for THE DEBT by Karina Halle releasing on August 29.
Her life changed in an instant.
And he’s the only one who could have prevented it.
Jessica Charles shouldn’t have even been in London when the unthinkable happened.
She should have been back at home in Edinburgh, perhaps hanging with her boyfriend, preparing the baby shower for her sister, or teaching her yoga classes. She should have been going on in her normal, dependable life as always.
But on that fateful day in August, when a mentally-ill ex-soldier opened fire in public, Jessica’s world changed forever.
Now single and crippled from the gunshot wounds, Jessica finds herself scared and alone, losing faith in herself and humanity with each agonizing moment that passes.
That is until a stranger enters her life. A stranger who makes her live again.
Keir McGregor has always been the strong, silent type. Throw in tall, dark, and handsome and you’ve got pretty much the perfect Scotsman.
Except Keir is anything but perfect. He’s got a past he’s running away from and a guilty conscience he can’t seem to shed. But the more time he spends with Jessica, the more he falls in love with her.
And the more his secret threatens to tear them apart.
He may have been a stranger to her.
But she’s never been a stranger to him.
Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Racing the Sun, Sins & Needles and over 25 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books.
Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK.
Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle, on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit www.authorkarinahalle.com and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more.
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Being the only woman working for a professional baseball team isn’t easy. As the San Diego Shock’s newest athletic trainer, Allie knows all about long hours, endless travel, and warding off players’ advances. Given she’s already the subject of a handful of rumors about how “lucky” she was to have earned such a coveted position, she can’t so much as flutter an eyelash a player’s way if she wants to be taken seriously.
But number eleven is doing more than fluttering eyelashes Allie’s way. Far more. Luke Archer is at the top of his game and doesn’t let the fear of striking out keep him from swinging. This is a motto he applies both on and off the field, but Allie appears immune, seeming to view Luke as nothing more than caution tape on legs.
He’s a player, and in Allie’s experience, they’re all the same. She won’t risk her job or her heart to another one, no matter how different this one claims to be. But as Allie gets to know him, she discovers the number eleven the public thinks they know is very different from the real Luke Archer. He seems too good to be true.
And maybe he is.
Allie will have to confront the stories attached to a player of Luke Archer’s stature and decide who she’ll put her faith in—The man she’s falling for? Or the rumors?
“Hey.” Archer slid next to me on the bench after jogging into the dugout.
“Hey,” I replied, trying to ignore that same mix of sweat and man closing in around me when he slid closer. Along with it came the hint of grass and leather. It should have been offensive, but it was the opposite. I loved this sport and everything that came with it—the scents included.
“So how do you like playing football?” I asked, keeping a straight face.
“Please, football players have it easy with all that padding and protection. I’m going to look like I got tuned up by a tire iron tomorrow.” He turned his forearms over, and I could already make out a few bruises breaking to the surface.
“You want something for the pain?” I reached down for my duffel bag.
“Do I ever want something for the pain?”
“Fine.” I tucked the bag back under the bench. The bruises weren’t bad—he’d survive.
“But I wouldn’t mind a nice deep-tissue massage later. Let’s say ten o’clock. My room. Clothing optional.” He kept his voice quiet, smirking at the field as the Rays threw a few warm-up balls.
“No pressure,” I said under my breath.
His smirk grew. “No pressure.”
When Coach paced down the dugout past us, Archer casually shifted farther down the bench from me, his smirk fading.
“I want to steal home.” Archer scooted back closer to me once Coach’s and the other players’ attention was on Hernandez stepping up to the plate.
“No one steals home anymore.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”
His arm was brushing against mine, messing with my head. “Doesn’t mean it should be done either.”
“We need a run. We need a big play.” He sucked in a breath when Hernandez swung at the pitch . . . and missed. Strike one. “If Hernandez and Garfield can get on base and I hit a double or a triple, we’ll be in good shape.”
“Or you could just hit one of those homerun things you’re setting records for. That could work.” I glanced at him from the corners of my eyes.
He shook his head at me.
“Stealing home plate?” I repeated, realizing he was serious. “It’s like a one-in-a-thousand shot you’ll pull it off.”
“Never tell me the odds. It only makes me want to do it more.” His jaw ground when Hernandez chalked up another swing and a miss.
“Play it safe. I know you’re favoring your right leg.” My gaze dropped to his leg running down the length of mine. “I don’t know what you did to it, but I know it’s hurting. Don’t risk injuring it any more.” When his jaw set a little, I sighed. “Am I going to have to tell Coach?”
“I just twisted it weird. It’s fine. A little ice and rest and I’ll be good.”
“Is this when you tell me you’re going to walk it off?”
It wasn’t affecting his performance much, but he’d need speed and luck to steal home. With the way he was favoring his leg, speed was not in his corner tonight.
“No. This is when I show you I’m going to walk it off. Right after I add another point to our side of the scoreboard when I steal home.”
When Shepherd glanced down the bench, I reached into my duffel so it looked like I had a reason to be having a conversation with the star player. Instead of the real reason we were having a conversation.
“Don’t steal home,” I said once Shepherd’s attention went back to the game. When Archer sighed, I added, “Not as in not ever. Just wait until the time’s right. When you know you’ll be successful.”
He looked ready to argue when pitch number three sailed at Hernandez and he connected with the ball, sending a whizzing line-drive into left field. Hernandez turned on the jets and hauled to first base, making it right before the ball smacked into the first baseman’s glove.
The dugout let loose with a round of whistles and cheers.
“I’m on deck.”
“Good luck.” I nudged his leg with mine as he stood.
“Hey, I’ve got my lucky shirt on. I’m all set.” He slid off his ball cap and sailed it into my lap.
“Yeah, but it’s been washed a few times since I was in it. Not sure how much luck’s left in it.”
“I’m feeling pretty damn lucky.” He pinched at the shirt before slipping a batting helmet onto his head. “But don’t worry. I fully plan on having my jersey draped around your body again soon.”
My eyes wandered down the dugout. No one was watching—they were too busy holding their breaths as Garfield sauntered up to the plate.
“Don’t steal home.”
“Make me a better offer, and I’ll consider it.” He paused for a heartbeat, challenging me with his eyes. When my lips stayed sealed, he climbed the steps out of the dugout. “Home plate it is.”
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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