Stealing Home by Nicole Williams…Release Day Blitz

Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon CA iBooks

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?

When the photographer announced he was going to commence shooting, I turned my head away, focusing on the space just over Archer’s shoulder. “You didn’t know I existed before last night,” I said quietly, so no one else in the room could hear.

“I’ve known you’ve existed from the first day you walked out onto the diamond at spring practice.” He was back to barely moving his lips, managing to hold a sexy-as-hell smirk as he stared at the camera.

“And why was last night the first time you ever said anything to me?”

His eyes darted my way for a moment. “Because you didn’t seem like the type who was open to mixing business with pleasure, and I respected that.”

“That’s why we’re in our present situation?” I glanced down at myself, where his jersey was floating a good foot above my knees. “Because you respected my policy on that topic?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the lights of the camera flashing in his eyes. “Hey, even a patient man has his limits.” With that, the position of his bat moved so the end of it was nuzzled into my backside. Which meant his fist curled around it was all up in my butt’s business too.

His crooked smile became more pronounced.

The photographer whistled, I guess approving of whatever feedback he was getting on his end of the camera. “Every woman in America wants to be you right now, sweetheart.”

Archer grunted, his knuckles digging a little deeper into my ass. “More like every guy in America wants to be me right now.”

I did my best to stay still and, you know, keep from hyperventilating. The heat from the lights, combined with the heat spilling from his body, was stifling. With his cleats on and me being barefoot, Luke Archer seemed that much taller. With my petite body pressed up against his, his frame seemed that much more imposing. With his arms snug around me, I could feel the strength he possessed. It was the kind that was meant for power. The kind that told me he could do anything he wanted to me and I’d be helpless to stop it. It was thrilling at the same time it was terrifying.

A few minutes later, my heart still thudding so hard I prayed he couldn’t hear it, the skin between Archer’s brows creased. “When will the magazines go up for auction?”

“In two months. Don’t worry, we’ll send you one.” The photographer continued to snap photo after photo.

“Yeah, I’m going to need more than that.”

“How many more?”

The crease deepened. I was trying to keep my head turned away from him, but my eyes weren’t so capable of the task.

“Eh, thirty? Maybe forty? Just enough for every wall in my apartment. Don’t worry, I’ll pay whatever the auction price winds up being.”

My forehead creased. “Every wall in your apartment?”

“I like my name on your back.”

The way he said it, like it should have been obvious and required no explanation, made me smile. “Such a caveman.”

“If I was a caveman, I’d tell you where I’d rather have my name on you.” Archer’s fist pressed into my backside enough to smash me closer to him. “Tattooed on you so you couldn’t just take it off or wash it off.”

“Wow, okay, so I retract my former accusation in favor of labeling you some barbarian-Neanderthal-caveman hybrid.”

“Before you form any more unfavorable opinions of me, let me just remind you that I’m a baseball player.” When I arched a brow at him, he continued, “I’m good with my hands, know what to do with a big stick, and am used to getting dirty.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. I didn’t want him to think I found any of what he’d said endearing, even though I kind of did.

With my hand tucked behind his back, I pinched at his side. “Only in baseball is someone highly skilled if they hit one third of the balls thrown in their direction.”

His plastered on smolder fell when he shot me a wounded expression. “Sure Coach doesn’t have you around to keep our egos in check?”

“A pro baseball player’s ego? No amount of insults could keep that in check.” I felt my straight face falter as he threw me another injured look.

“Triple ouch.”

“Oh, please. You like it.”

“Yeah”—he tipped his hips into me just enough—“I do.”

I nearly leapt through the ceiling when I felt him hard against me, but I recovered. Eventually.

“Everything okay?” the photographer asked, not sounding like he really cared.

Archer waited for me to answer.

“Everything’s great,” I muttered.

“Thanks. I get that a lot.” Archer’s eyes were spilling amusement.

Grumbling under my breath, I did my best to stay cool and collected through the remainder of the shoot. I felt the opposite though.

After a minute, Archer must have noticed the frustrated look on my face. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry for what?” I asked. “That I’m wearing nothing but your jersey? That I somehow wound up in this photo shoot when I had no idea I’d be posing for Sports Anonymous with Luke Archer? Or are you sorry for your erection you clearly can’t control when I’m stuck sandwiched between you and a baseball bat?”

Archer lowered his head so his mouth was beside my ear. “I’m sorry if my ‘erection’ makes you uncomfortable.”

“But not sorry because you have one, right?”

His head shook slowly. “No, not sorry for that.”

“Of course not.”

When he shrugged, the band of muscle beneath his chest moved against my hand. “At least now you know.”

“At least now I know what?”

“How I feel.”

I blew out a breath. “Yeah, I have a really good idea how you feel. Thanks for clearing it up.”

The harder Archer fought his smile, the more pronounced his dimple became. The auction price for these issues just spiked a grand or two. The children’s hospital could thank me later.

“You know how this game works. I know how.” He paused, letting that settle in the space between us. “You just have to decide if you want to play.”

“Because you have decided?”

His bat pressed deeper into my back, drawing me impossibly closer to his body. His arousal settled hard into the side of my stomach. “Doc, I’m already playing.”

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.

Website Facebook Twitter Blog Instagram

Hitched: Volume 1 by Kendall Ryan….Blog Tour & Review

Marry the girl I’ve had a crush on my whole life? Check.
Inherit a hundred-billion-dollar company? Check.
Produce an heir… Wait, what?
I have ninety days to knock up my brand-new fake wife. There’s only one problem—she hates my guts.
And in the fine print of the contract? The requirement that we produce an heir.
She can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Says she’ll never be in my bed.
But I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I’m not about to start now.
Mark my words—I’ll have her begging for me, and it won’t take ninety days.

Hitched is Kendall doing what Kendall does best – romantic comedy at it’s finest! Sweet, sexy, short, funny and sassy. All of it wrapped into the perfect trilogy and we’re just getting started.

Volume One is all about getting to know Noah and Olivia. Both their father’s started a business together and they both put into their wills that Noah and Olivia will be co-CEO’s when thy move on. Noah and Olivia have grown up around each other all their lives so this should be an easy feat. Right? Wrong.

Noah is a bit of ladies man and doesn’t hide that fact. He knows what he has to offer and women fall over at the possibility of being with him.

“I refuse to play travel agent for your ego trip.”

Olivia is very strong woman. She is being content with being alone, however deep down she does want to be loved and have a man by her side – when she is ready.

Olivia is very aware of Noah’s past and that’s what she keeps in the forefront of her mind. Or she tries to keep it at the forefront when he’s being quite persuasive. Noah wants to prove to Olivia that he can be monogamous and be faithful to her. But he’s got an uphill battle ahead of him.

“Game On.”

I absolutely love how Kendall is writing this story. Yes, for as business savvy and straightforward Noah and Olivia are, they lack that open communication between the two of them. But they also don’t want to show either on the wrong hand because neither want to lose the bet.

Kendall once again has started off a witty book with the perfect dose of humor, wit, and some added drama to the mix. Will these be able to get along in order to save their company? They are both committed to the company, but can they commit to one another??

Looking forward to the next book and thankfully we don’t have to wait long!

On the heels of her smash hit and New York Times bestselling SCREWED series, Kendall Ryan brings you HITCHED, a romantic comedy that delivers heart and heat. A NYC playboy turned business mogul has ninety days to win over the woman he’s always desired in order to save his father’s company. One tiny problem: She hates his guts.

“Charming, swoony and playful, Kendall Ryan’s Hitched left me salivating for more. More Noah, more Olivia, more of this series which already has my heart all aflutter, my smile perma-pinned to my face, and my mind aching for answers.” — Give Me Books

“Hitched was a perfect non-stop read!” – Jacqueline’s Reads

“Childhood friends and now frenemies forced to wed and make a baby in mere months? I’m IN!” – Bookalicious Babes Blog

“Fun, flirty and steamy, Hitched will have you addicted from the first word! Kendall Ryan delivered big time, I’m practically salivating for more!” – Angie, Angie and Jessica’s Dreamy Reads

EXCERPT:

“That’s the whole point of doing this trial period—to see how well we can play ball together before committing to a team-up. I’m doing my best to become friends with you, so . . .”

He tilts his head with a half smile. “Just friends? I’ve got my sights set a little higher.”

Gee, I never would have guessed, what with his constant attempts to steer the conversation toward sex.

I quirk one eyebrow in skepticism. “Friendship is all we need to pull this thing off. And we’re pretty much starting from square one . . . I would call us acquaintances, at best. Don’t you think you’re being a little overambitious?”

“Nope,” he replies, cocky smile still firmly in place.

I roll my eyes. “Wow. Your arrogance truly has no limits.”

“If I can put my money where my mouth is . . .” His lustful smirk makes it clear exactly where he’d like to put his mouth. “Then it’s not arrogance. Just confidence.”

“What makes you think I would want more with you, anyway? You aren’t exactly my type.”

I expect him to just give me a knowing look, or maybe toss back some mild innuendo. What I absolutely did not expect was, “Because I have a nine-inch cock.”

I almost choke on my martini for a third time. I splutter, “Is that number supposed to impress me?”

3″

I give him a skeptical look. “You want to show me your dick?”

“If it’ll help convince you.” He drains the last drops of his Scotch and stands up. “Come on, let’s go.”

I stare after him as he walks away.

Is he serious? He’s just going to whip it out? I look around to see if anyone is watching me, then I get up and follow him to the bar’s back hallway, near the restrooms, unable to comprehend why the hell I’m humoring him. This is ridiculous.

Once we’re safely in a private corner, Noah undoes his belt, opens his fly . . . and pulls out a fucking fire hose.

Holy mother of God. My hands fly to my mouth. I want to gasp in shock, but there’s no way I’m giving him the upper hand.

He was right. His cock is nothing short of massive, and it’s not even fully erect right now. Nine inches may actually be a conservative estimate of what it might look like hard. He must destroy men’s egos every time he walks into a locker room. And I don’t even want to think about what he destroys with women . . .

“Meh. I’ve seen bigger,” I force out, fighting to maintain my composure.

Noah chuckles. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Well, th-that monster is not coming anywhere near my uterus. No, thank you. I prefer to keep my organs intact.”

Noah’s grin widens. “I doubt that, but just to be on the safe side, I’ll ease it in nice and slow. Piece of cake. Plus, you’ve got good health insurance, right?”

“That is not funny, Noah. Now, put that thing away or I’ll remove it.”

I try to sound stern, but my shaking voice and bright red cheeks surely give me away. Why the hell can’t I stop staring?

He chuckles—yeah, the jerk can definitely see right through me—but he obliges, tucking the beast back into its lair.

About The Author:

A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 1.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. She’s a traditionally published author with Simon & Schuster and Harper Collins UK, as well as an independently published author. Since she first began self-publishing in 2012, she’s appeared at #1 on Barnes & Noble and iBooks charts around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras
Links:
Newsletter: http://www.MyAuthorBiz.com/ENewsletter.php?acct=KR5565164709500

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KendallRyan1
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kendallryanbooks
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kendallryan1/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6473923.Kendall_Ryan
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Kendall-Ryan/e/B009FNTHMK/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1407617700&sr=8-2-ent

No Pants Required by Kim Karr….Excerpt Reveal

No Pants Required by Kim Karr
Release Date: July 11^th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Hang Le

Synopsis:

I, Makayla Alexander, am on a mission to reinvent myself. So when a super hot guy boards the plane and flashes his rock hard abs, I pay attention. When he sits next to me and offers me his nuts, I can’t resist. But when I choke on them and he tells me I need to work on my gag reflex, I realize I might be in over my head.

Before I know it we’re in the lavatory and attempting to join the Mile High Club. Let me just say this…anyone who tells you it’s easy to get it on at 37,000 feet isn’t telling you the truth. After the flight attendant busts us for getting frisky in the air, the only thing that can ease my total and complete mortification is the simple fact that I am never going to see him again.

Hours later, I can’t help but wonder if fate will ever allow me to become a new version of myself.

Because Fate, she’s a fickle bitch.

Case in point…my seatmate is my new next-door neighbor.

Even with the whole fate thing we have going on, we are so not meant to be together. He’s all cool and sexy in that make love not war kind of way. Guys like him are dangerous. With that bring-you-to-your-knees body, that handsome-as-hell face, and that dirty, dirty mouth, I guarantee one glance from him wets every girl’s bikini bottoms.

And then there’s me…the quirky girl looking to find herself in California. All I want to do is learn to let loose. Say words like peace and groovy. Bury my toes in the sand. Who knows, maybe even have sex on the beach.

Unable to get him out of my head, I entertain the thought of being more than just friends. I know the idea is absurd. And yet, I go with it. You see Camden Waters gets me. Really gets me. Like no other guy has before.

On this 7-mile stretch of paradise, I decide to keep things simple and just have fun…that is until fate decides to screw with me, again.

Can two people hell-bent on finding themselves realize the search should have ended the day they met? Find out in No Pants Required—a sexy, funny, romantic stand-alone, that will have you hurrying to grab your bathing suit and rushing to the beach to check out every lifeguard on duty.

Excerpt

“I hate flying because I’m scared of heights…or, more specifically, falling. I don’t like bungee jumps, being near ledges, or even looking down from a tall building. It sets my heart racing and gives me a little vertigo. And sometimes on bridges, I need to walk on the inside of the sidewalk and look down at the ground to get across.”

Now he looks sympathetic. “My sister is afraid to fly. Her solution is to pop a Xanax as soon as she boards. It usually holds her over until landing.”

“I thought about it,” I admit.

His eyes are still hidden by the dark frames of his Wayfarers, and I really want to see them.
“Can I get you something?” the blond flight attendant asks him. The way she looks at him, I’m surprised she doesn’t say, “Coffee, tea, or me?”

He glances toward her. “Yeah, sure. I’ll have a Corona with a lime and a couple bags of peanuts.”

She reaches in her pocket and hands him two bags of Planters. “Here you go. And I’ll be right back with that beer.”

She’s off in a jiffy, eager beaver that she is.

“Miss,” he calls.

She turns.

“Some chocolate, too, if you have any.”

Her responding nod is almost seductive.

“Thanks,” he tells her and shoves one of the bags in the pouch in front of him. The sexy stranger then rips open the other bag and pours some of the peanuts in his palm. “Here, have some of my nuts.”

Nervous laughter spouts out of me and even though I’d never eat out of a stranger’s hand, I find myself considering trying his nuts.

Yes, I thought that.

The rakish tilt of his lips mesmerizes me as he continues to hold out his palm. “Come on, you know you want to try my nuts.”

Aha! He is so trying to be dirty.

Still, it makes me laugh enough that my wineglass starts shaking in my hand. “Oh, no, that’s where you’re wrong. My mother taught me never to take food from a guy I don’t know.”

Emptying all the peanuts into his palm, he crumples the empty bag and shoves that into the pouch, too.

I hate when people put their trash there, but it doesn’t seem to bother me right now because I’m a little preoccupied watching him.

As if he has a secret, his lips tip up a little more. He has the best smile. Unexpectedly, he pinches one of the peanuts and lifts it. “It’s ‘don’t take candy from strangers.’”

There’s a hush in the air. It takes me a moment to find my breath. “Right. That’s the saying.”

His hand moves closer to my lips. “First of all, this isn’t candy, it’s protein, and I doubt your mother ever told you not to eat protein.”

My breath hitches. “No, she didn’t.”

“And secondly, we’re not strangers. We’re seatmates. I don’t know who you think I am, but I wouldn’t offer my nuts to just anyone.”

Laughter roars out of me.

Somehow he manages to stop himself from completely losing it. With his smirk in place, he’s determined to get me to eat this peanut and moves his fingers even closer. “Come on, try it. You know you want to.”

As shocking as it seems, I find myself opening for him, and he drops the capsule of protein right on my tongue. For one brief second I imagine taking his hand and holding it to my mouth so I can lick the salt off his fingers. Oh, geez, what is wrong with me? Last night must have gotten me more worked up than I realized.

“Good, right?” he breathes.

Feeling flushed from head to toe, I give him a nod while chewing, then I swallow.
When I do, I start to choke. The peanut is stuck. Oh, this can’t be happening. Coughing profusely, I try to unlodge it and force it up.

Concern flashes in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

I nod and manage to say, “I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.”

No longer concerned for my safety, he asks, “Trouble swallowing my nuts?”

Still choking, I have no choice but to spit the peanut into my cocktail napkin.
Real lady-like.

His eyes are on me. I can feel them.

When I look up, there’s a coyness about him.

That grin turns devilish. “I’m sorry you choked on my nuts, but you might want to work on your gag reflex.”

Dirty, dirty, boy.

“What would I do without your wit?”

He quirks a brow and sits back. “You know you prefer me sitting next to you than sitting alone.”

“You think so, do you?”

“I know so. I mean, come on, you’ve already eaten my nuts and we’re still on the ground. Who knows what will happen when we’re in the air. With me by your side, you won’t have any time to think about being nervous.”

There is a dip in my belly, and we haven’t even taken off yet.

Add to Goodreads

Pre-Order Links:
Kobo / B&N / iBooks

About the Author:

Reader * Writer * Coffeelover * Romantic

Kim is a daydreamer. So much so that if daydreaming could be a hobby it would be her favorite. It’s how her stories are born and how they take root. An imagination that runs wild is something to be thankful for, and she is very thankful. 🙂

She grew up in New York and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and with the rest of her time embraces one of her biggest passions–writing.

Kim wears a lot of hats! Writer, book-lover, wife, soccer-mom, taxi driver, and the all around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read.

She likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and Happily-Ever-Afters. She loves to drink champagne, listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.

Amazon / Facebook / Twitter / Website

Dark Mafia Prince by Annika Martin…Blog Tour & Review

Dark Mafia Prince by New York Times bestselling author, Annika Martin is LIVE!

Blurb:

Aleksio

Don’t look at me like that. So trusting.
Like you think I’m not a monster.
Like I won’t wrap your hair in my fist and bend you to my will.
Like I won’t sacrifice you, piece by piece, to save my brother.
I’m the most dangerous enemy you’ll ever have because every time you look at me, you see somebody good. That friend who died.
And when you look at me like that, I die again.

Mira
I spent years making myself invisible.
A good girl, apart from the noise.
Then you came back, beautiful and deadly in your Armani suit.
Don’t look at me like you still know me, you say.
But I remember your smile and those sunny days.
Before they lowered your small casket into the ground.
Before they told us the prince was dead.

This is my first book by Annika, but most definitely won’t be my last. To say that I was blown away by this book, would be putting it mildly. I freaking loved every damn word of this book!!

Dark Mafia Prince follows two brothers, Aleksioand Viktor trying to unite themselves with their youngest brother, Kiro. They were all torn apart horrifically when they were young and grew up not ever knowing if they would see each other ever again.

“I’m different. I went somewhere you don’t come back from.”

An old legend has that once three brothers unite, they will take their kingdom. It’s an tale that everyone holds some sort of truth to it. They want to take back what is rightfully theirs. But Aleksio knows that the only leverage to find the whereabouts of their brother is the Mafia Princess. But she’s also his past and just quite possibly his future.

“I’m the most dangerous enemy you’ll ever have because every time you look at me, you see somebody who’s not there anymore.”

The suspense, dark secrets and broken characters are what makes this story so intriguing and keeps you glued to it. Underneath all that darkness is very deep rooted love of not just a lost brother but of a love that never stops between a man and a woman, no matter how much time has passed. This book is told in both Mira and Aleksio’s POV’s along with small snippets from Viktor along the way. I can’t tell you enough how amazing this story is.

Annika is a brilliant writer! She draws you in deeper and deeper into this world. Each book will feature one brother with their own HEA, but I highly recommend reading them in order. I am anxiously awaiting the next book!

Kindle: http://amzn.to/2934GBU
iBooks: http://apple.co/28WBWJe
Google: http://bit.ly/2962PLk
Kobo: http://annikamartinbooks.com/dark-mafia-prince/
Nook: http://annikamartinbooks.com/dark-mafia-prince/

ADD TO GOODREADS

About the Author:

Annika Martin is a NYT bestselling author who enjoys writing dirty stories about dangerous criminals! She loves helping animals and kicking snow clumps off the bottom of cars around the streets of Minneapolis, and in her spare time she writes as the RITA award-winning author Carolyn Crane.

Connect with Annika:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter | Dirty quote newsletter

The Summer Games: Out of Bonds….Cover Reveal

Title: THE SUMMER GAMES: Out of Bounds

Author: R.S. Grey

Release Date: Aug 1, 2016

Add on Goodreads

I despise Erik Winter.

He’s arrogant and cruel—a man I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy—and by some twisted turn of fate, he’s my new Olympic gymnastics coach.

I’ve had to contend with gruff coaches in the past, but Erik is far worse. His stern demeanor complements a body built for intimidation, and his reprimands come from a mouth so cunning, I know it could strip me of my defenses—if I let it.

Though each of us would love to be rid of the other forever, we are bound to each other by need and necessity. I’m his rising star, his best shot at proving himself to his critics. And without a coach, I have zero chance of winning gold in Rio.

The easiest way forward would be to wave a white flag and make peace with the man I’ll be sharing close quarters with for the foreseeable future, but he is intent on war.

Fine. By. Me.

If he pushes me, I’ll push back harder. If he wants to test me, to play with my head, I’ll show him just how many boundaries I’m willing to cross. Because I know it’s not a choice between winning or warring—not if you can have them both. At the end of it all, I plan on leaving Rio with gold around my neck and his icy heart in the palm of my hand.

I am a lover of books, chocolate, reality TV, black labs, and cold weather. Seriously, if I had it my way, I would be curled up on the couch with all of those things… everyday.

I live in Texas where I spend my free time writing and reading. My favorite authors include Mindy Kaling & Jonathan Safran Foer. I’m a comedy geek and love all things “funny”. Women like Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Mindy Kaling are definitely the biggest inspirations for my writing, though I think my work tends to skew a bit smuttier than theirs.

Facebook | Twitter | Instgram | Website | Goodreads

Hitched by Kendall Ryan…Release Day Blitz

Marry the girl I’ve had a crush on my whole life? Check.

Inherit a hundred-billion-dollar company? Check.

Produce an heir… Wait, what?

I have ninety days to knock up my brand-new fake wife. There’s only one problem—she hates my guts.

And in the fine print of the contract? The requirement that we produce an heir.

She can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Says she’ll never be in my bed.

But I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I’m not about to start now.

Mark my words—I’ll have her begging for me, and it won’t take ninety days.

Amazon | Amazon UK | iBooks | Nook | Paperback

make a baby

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras

Subscribe to Newletter

Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

Stroked by Meghan Quinn….Teaser Blast

We’re so excited about the upcoming release of STROKED by Meghan Quinn! Check out this amazing teaser!

STROKED by Meghan Quinn

Scheduled to release: July 20, 2016

NA Romantic Comedy

Cover designer: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

Goodreads

BLURB:
Reese King: Olympic medalist, underwear model, Greek god.

His body is chiseled from rock, sculpted by the weight room, and refined by water.

On a daily basis his skin is completely bare for everyone to see, tan and defined, only covered up by a minuscule piece of spandex. There is no denying his sex appeal.

I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.

There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.

What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.

Help us celebrate by participating in the release events!

June 21st, 28th, July 5th, 12th: Teaser Blast

July 19: Release Day Blast

July 18-30: Review Tour

July 23-August 6: Promotional Event

About the Author:

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

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

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

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

Drifter by Kathy Coopsman…Excerpt Reveal

Excerpt

I’m a lonely man. I choose to be this way. I had true love with her. It didn’t matter how old we were, or how young; once you have it, you never let it go. You spend a lifetime together. And I pissed it away. Underlining painful memories have inflicted punishment on my tattered soul for years. Besides Rori and Muriel, those two things are the only constant impressions that have kept me going. If I didn’t feel the need to live with a constant dagger shoved through my heart, I would have let myself whittle away years ago. It’s distressing, to say the least, that the pain I’ve caused is the only thing I’ve let rule my life. I’m living in hell every day, repeatedly burning from the inside out since day one. I will never forget the first time I was rejected in New York, how badly I wanted to call her and beg her to forgive me. I couldn’t do it, and I knew it. I jumped in the shower instead, rinsed off the dirt and grime, then pressed my forehead to the yellow tiles. Hot water beat down my back. I vowed not to cry, even though my heart ached and my lungs felt like they were working overtime to help me breathe. I caved and fell to the shower floor, my fist pounding and beating the wall in front of me until I became numb to the shooting pain filtering from my hands all the way to my shoulders, twining up around my neck until I choked from the lump lodged in my throat. Nausea bubbled up, and I vomited the contents from earlier in the day. The rancid smell left me dry heaving and an oversized human slumped over in the small confinement that the pain from missing her had left me in. When the water ran cold, I lay there shivering, wishing for nothing but her. Once I composed myself, I crawled back up and cleaned and towel-dried off, only to climb into an empty, cold bed, tired and defeated, scared to close my eyes, because when I did, all I saw was her. Several nights I repeated the same thing until the real life nightmares struck me hard, leaving me in this worst shape of my life. For years, I’ve been honest with myself over and over again, saying I deserve every chip and break my heart feels when her birthday or Christmas come around. It’s like this infinite cloud that hangs dormant over my head: dark and gloomy, cold and wet. It will never go away. Now that I’ve seen her, and even though I’m walking back down The Strip with no idea where I’m going, the memories that were once happy become so unpleasant I could easily bleed my life dry. Desperation pools around me. Panic sets in. What if she’s gone and I never see her again?

The Drifter by Kathy Coopmans is a heartfelt romance you are going to want to one-click!

Releasing July 11th.

Add to your TBR at: http://bit.ly/1RWK7BH

Blurb

To the outside world, Kray Brooks had it all growing up.

Wealth. The devoting parents.

The beautiful girlfriend.

Good grades.

All of it a lie, except her. The woman he left behind thirteen years ago to try and achieve his real dream… to become a musician.

Life doesn’t always go according to the plan you set out for yourself.

Sometimes, you drift. Become lost, lose hope and crash.

For thirteen years he’s been drifting wherever his guitar takes him, avoiding his past. Never thinking of his future.

Not once did he think it would all catch up to him. Until it did.

About the Author:

Kathy Coopmans

USA Today Best-Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.

After raising her children she decided to publish her first book and retiring from being a hairstylist.

She now writes full time.

She’s a huge sports fan with her favorite being Football and Tennis.

She’s a giver and will do anything she can to help another person succeed!

Use whichever one of these you would like babe.

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads | Newsletter signup

THANK YOU!

A Fine Mess by Kelly Siskind….Excerpt Reveal

Title: A Fine Mess

Author: Kelly Siskind

Series: Over The Top, #2

On Sale: August 2, 2016

Publisher: Forever

Format: eBook

Price: $3.99 USD

Add to Goodreads

PREORDER THE BOOK HERE

BLURB

Some guys should come with a warning label…

Sawyer West is Mr. One-Night Stand. He doesn’t do relationships or promises or feelings. He’s never cared enough to get involved. Until Lily Roberts. She’s sweet and shy and sexy as sin, and resisting her is testing his self-control. She believes Sawyer can be a better man, and for the first time in his life, he wants to be. But change isn’t easy, and Sawyer would do anything to protect Lily from his past self. Even break his own heart…

EXCERPT

Sawyer steps close and waits for me to make eye contact. Slowly, I lift my gaze to his gold-flecked brown eyes, but I can’t find my voice. It’s like I don’t know how to talk to him anymore.

He grins. “Hi.”

From my angle it’s easy to see the scar running down his neck, the remnant of a fall he took through a coffee table while wrestling with his brother. I’ve always wanted to touch it, feel the puckered skin under my fingers. I drop my gaze, but it doesn’t help. The cuffs of his gray button-down are rolled to his elbows, roped muscle exposed below. Something else I’d like to touch.

I blink hard. “Hi,” I say to my feet.

“Look at me, Lil.” I rock on my heels, then do as asked. He raises an eyebrow. “How fucking weird is this?”

My giggle surprises me, and I loosen my grip on my wineglass. “Totally weird.”

Thank God for Sawyer’s candid nature.

He sips his drink, probably Scotch, and a sheen of liquid clings to his bottom lip.

Touch that arm. Kiss that scar. Taste those lips. None of these urges are new, but they’re heightened. Magnified. He watches me watching him, his gaze as probing as mine. What is he thinking?

Then the music changes.

A remix of Madonna’s “Holiday” plays, and Sawyer does Sawyer. He tips his head to the right, his shoulders following, then he pushes out his hip and rolls his torso through. The guy does body waves, alternating from side to side, like he’s in an eighties music video.

People stop. People look. People laugh.

I snort, an unattractive sound I make when my laughter takes over. Sawyer says it sounds like a hyena with sleep apnea. When I snort a second time, he dances harder, and I crack up. My belly aches as he gets into it, the entire room watching now.

I suck in a breath, place my empty glass on the table behind me, then clasp his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

He stops dancing. “Making things less weird.”

“Less? What about you channeling Paula Abdul is less weird?”

“Did you laugh?”

I grin.

Then he says, “I’m sorry.”

The music vibrates in my chest, or maybe it’s his proximity. “Sorry about what?”

“Last week, when you called, I was a dick. You caught me by surprise, and I didn’t handle it well. So, I’m sorry.”

His admission pumps through my core like helium, my body nearly weightless. The confession shouldn’t be surprising, not with how he speaks his mind, but it’s been a week of silence. I was losing hope things could return to the way they were, or progress past it. I step closer, so he can hear me over the noise. “Apology accepted, but do I get an explanation?”

He drags his gaze down my body. It’s a thorough perusal—intimate, penetrating—flames sparking along my skin. His eyes linger on me, but he doesn’t speak. He rolls the pinky ring on his left hand the way he does when he’s puzzling something out. An ache travels up my thighs, heat expanding below my ribs. The longer he stays quiet, the more my skin tingles.

Finally, he releases his ring and slides his hand over my lower back. He leans forward and whispers, “I’ve wanted to do very dirty things to you and with you since Aspen, but I care about you too much to act on it. Hence my dickishness and the weirdness.”

THE OVER THE TOP SERIES

My Perfect Mistake, #1

A Fine Mess, #2

Series page on Goodreads

FOLLOW FOREVER ONLINE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A small-town girl at heart, Kelly moved from the city to open a cheese shop with her husband in Northern Ontario. When she’s not neck deep in cheese or out hiking, you can find her, notepad in hand, scribbling down one of the many plot bunnies bouncing around in her head.

She laughs at her own jokes and has been known to eat her feelings-Gummy Bears heal all. She’s also an incurable romantic, devouring romance novels into the wee hours of the morning.

The Matchmaker’s Replacement by Rachel Van Dyken….Excerpt Reveal

Wingman rule number two: never reveal how much you want them.

Lex hates Gabi. Gabi hates Lex. But, hey, at least the hate is mutual, right? All Lex has to do is survive the next few weeks training Gabi in all the ways of Wingmen Inc. and then he can be done with her. But now that they have to work together, the sexual tension and fighting is off the charts. He isn’t sure if he wants to strangle her or throw her against the nearest sturdy table and have his way with her.

But Gabi has a secret, something she’s keeping from not just her best friend but her nemesis too. Lines are blurred as Lex becomes less the villain she’s always painted him to be…and starts turning into something more. Gabi has always hated the way she’s been just a little bit attracted to him—no computer-science major should have that nice of a body or look that good in glasses—but “Lex Luthor” is an evil womanizer. He’s dangerous. Gabi should stay far, far away.

Then again, she’s always wanted a little danger.

Amazon US / Amazon UK / Amazon CA / Amazon AU

I hated him.

HATED him.

Hate, hate, hate. I chanted the words to myself that very next morning as I stomped toward his ridiculously expensive house, next to the ridiculously nice lake, with his ridiculously loud red Mercedes parked out front. Jackass.

I’d be doing society a favor if I set it on fire.

Seriously.

The thing was probably filled with so much bodily fluid and disease that if he got in a car accident he’d infect the entire freeway and start a citywide epidemic.

I shuddered.

I compartmentalized Lex into two boxes.

The first box was Childhood Lex, the friend who used to hang out with Ian and me before he moved across town, never to be seen again. He used to ride with me to school, and when I was sick he gave me my own box of Kleenex—never mind that he stole it from his teacher’s desk. The point is, Childhood Lex was a keeper.

Box number two?

Asshole Lex, also known as the version I was walking toward. The Lex I met when I was eighteen, who momentarily stunned me speechless with his godlike beauty, had been a figment of my overactive, sad, hormone-riddled imagination.

On the outside? The perfect man.

With a brooding and sultry smile.

Biceps the size of my head.

Who gave me the distinct feeling that if I ran my hands over his buzzed hair I’d orgasm before he even touched me.

Whatever. I was over it. So over it.

A lot of people had stupid crushes when they were eighteen, right?

Now all I saw when I looked into his stormy blue eyes was syph or the clap, and that was being generous. The dude was a walking STD and seriously tried every nerve I had. He was an ass. Plain and simple, no sugar coating. He was the type of guy who’d tell a chick that she looked fat in a dress or who refused to share the communal breadbasket. See! He couldn’t even adhere to typical manners during mealtime! Just thinking about him had me tied up in knots.

Last year, when I went shopping and stupidly invited Ian along—which of course meant Lex had to come—I was told in no uncertain terms that if I would just stop drinking chocolate milk in the morning I’d be able to fit into a smaller size.

He’d smiled.

His dimples had deepened.

He’d even crossed his arms as if to say, Look, I did you a favor, pat me on the back.

Instead I had kicked him in the balls and tried to give him a black eye, clocking Ian in the face.

My point? Lex. Was. The. Devil.

I made a point of only hanging out with Lex when absolutely necessary, and even then I almost always had Ian as a buffer. But now that he was playing love nest with my ex-roomie, Blake? Well, I was on my own.

Lex opened the door after my third aggressive knock. Black sweatpants hung low on his hips, a vintage Mariners shirt fell open around his neck, and he was wearing black-framed glasses that made his eyes more appealing than should be legal.

“Sunshine,” he said, his smirk deepening as he crossed his burly arms over his chest.

“Dickhead.” I smiled sweetly. “New glasses? They look thicker than last time.”

“Better to see you with.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “There they are.” He reached for one of my boobs.

I slapped his hand away so hard my palm stung.

“Probably not the best way to treat your new male clients.” He shook his hand and turned towards the living room leaving the door wide open. Manners were completely lost on him.

Gritting my teeth, I slammed the door behind me and took off my shoes because I knew if I didn’t he’d give me hell.

He was a freak like that.

For as much ass as he got, it was shocking how much Lysol he used around the house. His clothes were never wrinkled; everything was pristine.

Even his breath.

Damn him.

He drank coffee like a Starbucks employee but never had coffee breath.

It was almost painful, staring him in the face, knowing that everything on the outside appeared perfect—but didn’t match the inside at all, not even close!

Beauty like Lex’s was dangerous and wickedly tempting, like something out of a paranormal romance novel. Sometimes, at night, when I dreamed of Lex getting hit by a car, I imagined him as a vampire roaming the streets in his favorite black sweats, shirtless, shimmering under the streetlights, just waiting for whores to line up so he could take a few bites.

A pencil flew by my head.

“Yo.” Lex’s eyebrows shot up. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to get you ready for the next two clients. Daydream about chicks on your own time.”

“I’m not a lesbian.”

He bit on his bottom lip, sinking back in his chair as his eyes slowly roamed from my mismatched socks all the way up to my head. “Okay, whatever you say, Gabs.”

I will not commit homicide. I will not commit homicide. “You know,” I said as I tossed my purse onto the table, “it’s offensive that you assume all lesbians dress like crap.” So what? I was wearing a ratty white T-shirt and ripped jeans, and I was pretty sure I still had mascara on from the night before. It was my Lex repellant. He hated sloppiness.

“Offensive.” He nodded. “Also true . . .” He used the spare pencil from behind his ear to slide my purse over to the farthest side of the table. “It wouldn’t kill you to wear something other than jeans and T-shirts, Gabs.” He sighed. “Say it with me: dresssss—”

I grabbed the pencil from his hand, broke it into two pieces, and handed them back to him. “I wear dresses, just not for you. Dresses are your kryptonite, especially short black ones. I refuse to be a part of your ‘shower time.’”

He snorted. “You wish.”

“Yes. Every night when I go to sleep I pray for Lex to dream of me while he jerks off because yet another girl refused to follow his instructions in bed : ‘Damn it, use the manual!’” I said, using my best imitation of Lex’s voice. I’d only heard him shout instructions to a girl once, and it had scarred me for life. What the hell are you doing? Do I look like I’m satisfied? There’s a diagram! Ugh.

Lex rolled his eyes. “Very funny, and the manual is there for a reason. Do you even know how many chicks get confused when I call out sexual positions? It’s like, get there faster, you know?”

My feelings were torn between fascination and disgust. “So,” I changed the subject. “Let’s train, because I have about ten years worth of Organic Chem homework.”

Lex sighed and held out his hand.

“No.” I crossed my arms. “I don’t need help.”

Okay, I needed help, desperately needed help, and Lex wasn’t just passably smart but a certified genius, at least when he applied himself. I refused to ask him to go over my homework just because Organic Chem was, to me, like reading a foreign language.

He cleared his throat.

I didn’t move.

Finally, he stood, slowly walked over to the end of the table, and fished the chem book from my oversized purse. “What chapter?”

“Lex—”

“If I’m teaching you Organic Chem, at least say Professor Lex.”

“Listen very closely, Lex.” I went over and jerked my book out of his hands. “I didn’t need your help last year when I almost failed biology, and I sure as hell don’t need your help now. Let’s just get this training done so I can go home and suffer in silence, alright?”

“Fine.” He dropped my book against the table and then, without warning, grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me against the counter that bordered the kitchen. My butt hit the cupboard . “Up until now we’ve been helping people find their perfect match. Basically acting like a wingman so that the idiots of this world see the girl who’s been standing in front of them all along .”

Why was he standing so close? Did we have to be touching? I told my body not to respond to his proximity, but Lex was magnetic, even if every part of him was evil. My brain was having trouble functioning while his large palms were pressed into the tops of my shoulders.

“Okay.” I swallowed. “And now that you’re allowing guys to become clients of Wingmen Inc., I basically do the same thing. Give them confidence, help them capture the one girl who’s always seen them as the friend—or worse, who they’ve been invisible to.”

“What’s that like, I wonder?” Lex still didn’t release me. “Being invisible . . . Maybe next time a dude ignores you, take notes.”

And another insult.

“Lex.” I huffed out a breath. “Just get on with it.”

“Right.” His eyes momentarily locked on mine before he rubbed the bridge of his nose where his glasses were perched. It was not sexy. It wasn’t. Really. That. Sexy. “So whenever we take on a new client, we give them a list of questions, meet them in a public place, and then use the power of human emotions like jealousy and curiosity to get the other person interested. That’s where you come in. If another girl sees our client as desirable, he becomes desirable.”

“That easy?”

“Sort of.” Lex leaned forward. “But you can’t suck.”

“Suck?”

“At anything.” His lips hovered near my mouth. He was starting to freak me out. I wanted to run away, but I was pinned.

“Lex, if you kiss me I will bite your tongue off. I swear.”

“If I was actually kissing you”—Lex released one of my shoulders and placed a finger against my mouth—“you’d know it. This, my frumpy friend, is training.”

His lips descended.

They pressed against mine, then pulled back. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Gabs, you’re going to need to open your mouth a bit more. Guys are stupid. They always assume that more tongue means better kissing, when the opposite is true, but you still need to have your lips parted, not locked down like Fort Knox.”

“What’s happening?” I tried to push away from him.

Lex rolled his eyes. “Gabs, believe me, this is all business. You can even keep your hand on my junk the whole time.”

“What!” I roared.

“So you know without a doubt that nothing about you turns me on.” He grinned menacingly. “Seriously, I don’t mind.”

“I do!”

“Hey!” He chuckled. “I was just trying to help.”

“Grabbing your penis is not the answer, Lex!”

“Weird, because it so often is.”

“I hate today.”

“Is it the rain?” He frowned.

“It’s not—”

“It is.”

“Stop that!” I shoved him. “Hurry up and grade my kissing skills so I can go home and study.”

“Kissing, hand holding, hugging, cuddling, laughing, winking—just a few things you need to master.” He was firing off so many horrible, body-numbing words.

“Just hurry up,” I grumbled in a defeated voice as I tried to block out the fact that he was a good-looking ass who offended me with every single breath he took.

“Ah . . .” Lex held up his hand. “One never hurries a kiss.”

“What about a passionate kiss?”

“A passionate kiss isn’t hurried, it’s frenzied. Damn, don’t you know anything?”

Heat swamped my cheeks.

“How many guys have you kissed, Gabs?”

“Plenty!” Five. I’d kissed five.

“You blush down your neck when you lie.” Lex cupped my chin and then brought his lips down against mine again. “Part.”

Sighing against his mouth, I relaxed my lips while his slid across.

He pulled back, wearing a frown of irritation. “A bit more, Gabs. Guys want access.”

I kept my eyes open.

So did he.

I didn’t want him assuming I was into it, which was probably his exact line of thinking. Only keeping my eyes open was an entirely raw experience, watching him watch me while I felt him.

I shivered.

“Cold?” That stupid smirk was back.

“Frigid.” I glared, putting myself down before he had a chance to.

“You read my mind.” He nodded seriously. “Now stop being a bitch, and let me teach you how to kiss.”

“I know how to kiss!” I don’t know what came over me—maybe it was the need to prove myself, or possibly it was just stress over the entire situation. Needing to stay in school and hating that he was the answer, I wrapped my arms around his neck and jumped, my hips colliding with his as I mauled his mouth with as much passion as I could conjure up, this time closing my eyes and putting everything I had into it.

With a growl, Lex pushed me back against the countertop. As my butt collided with the edge, his tongue plunged into my mouth and his hands dug into my hair, pulling it free from its ponytail while he changed positions his lips demanding a punishing kiss from a different angle as his he gave my hair a harder tug back.

I grasped at his T-shirt, pulling him closer and nearly falling backward into the sink.

And then, just when I was in danger of losing myself to the kiss that would probably be the best kiss of my life, I bit down on his bottom lip.

That move didn’t work out the way I’d planned, not at all. In my head it was smart. I’d piss him off, get him to pull back and leave me alone.

It did nothing of the sort.

Nothing of the sort at] all.

With a hiss he pulled back, fire blazing in his eyes. For a split second that seemed to go on for an eternity, he hovered and I waited, both of us on the edge of something. He wet his lips, I mimicked the movement, and then, like a snake, he struck. His mouth fused to mine in a punishing kiss, one that bruised my mouth while imprinting its essence on my soul.

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!

You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel’s New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com .

FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE / NEWSLETTER

Stealing Home by Nicole Williams….Excerpt Reveal

Coming July 10th

Pre-order exclusively on iBooks HERE

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

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?

CHAPTER ONE

Working for a professional baseball team was going to be the end of my love life. The past two years confirmed that theory, as had the last text I’d received from my latest ex-boyfriend.

Half of the year on the road added to another half of the year working grueling hours that rivaled a doctor’s first year of residency equaled a whole lot of no free time to fill with a social agenda. Since being hired on by the San Diego Shock this season and the San Francisco Kings the year before that, the longest relationship I’d maintained spanned eight weeks.

This last one had barely cleared the four-week mark.

My lifestyle was costly, but it was worth it. Baseball was in my blood, and sports medicine was in my heart.

I’d grown up in a small Midwest town where people still got together for potlucks and everyone from the town hermit to the mayor attended a funeral. Where the only place you were expected to be after church on a Sunday was stretched out on the bleachers around the baseball field. It didn’t matter if it was a T-ball game or the high school championships—the bleachers were always packed.

Baseball was a religion where I grew up—it was stitched into the fibers of my life—so it was no surprise when I ended up with a baseball player. No, the surprise came after I’d followed him to college and found him in bed with someone else.

It had taken the wind right out of me, along with my tendency to trust first and doubt after. Ben had been sleeping around for a while by the time I found out—friends had known and said nothing—and that was the day I made a promise to myself to never let another guy hurt me as he had, to never be made a fool of like that.

After changing schools mid-year, I started studying sports medicine and never looked back. Or at least not often. I only looked back when I found myself feeling something similar to what I’d felt for Ben. The relationship never lasted long after that.

As evidenced by my newest failed relationship.

“Whose ass do I need to kick, Doc?”

Dropping my phone into my lap, I looked across the aisle to see who was sliding into the row across from me.

Luke Archer.

Known to fans as the best hitter on the Shock, if not in all of pro baseball. Known to women for his good looks and up-to-no-good smile. Known to Cosmo magazine as being voted the Finest Ass in professional baseball. And known by the athletic training staff as a well-rounded pain in our asses.

Not because he thought he knew better or was yet another prima donna—which the sport had no shortage of—but because he held to the old-school code of taking care of an injury by “walking it off.” If that didn’t work, then we could usually convince him to pop one or two pain relievers after the game, and sometimes, if he was feeling especially accommodating, he’d accept a bag of ice.

Luke Archer was the real man of steel, and no one to date had managed to convince him he was also made of those injury-prone materials known as flesh and blood.

“Doc?” Archer’s voice broke through my haze of thoughts. “Just give me his name and I’ll take care of it.”

The rest of the team and staff were shuffling down the aisle between us to find their seats on the team jet, but his stare aimed my way felt unyielding.

“What makes you think anyone’s ass deserves a kicking?” I asked.

I returned a high-five as Reynolds passed by. He’d twisted his ankle in the game earlier today, and I’d been the first on the field to get him taken care of. I’d been the last one out of the locker room to finish getting him taken care of too. As a noob, I had to work twice as hard. As a woman, I had to work ten times as hard.

“I have three younger sisters. I have more experience than most with guys deserving ass kickings.”

The last of the guys wandered by us. Without the break of their bodies coming between us, Archer’s stare became too intense. His eyes seemed capable of pinning me to the back of the seat.

The head athletic trainer, Dax Shepherd, attended to the “money” players—the ones like Archer, who brought fans to the stadium and were a large part of the Shock’s impressive win-to-loss ratio. Up until this very moment, I didn’t know Luke Archer was aware of my existence on this team or the planet.

“You really have three younger sisters?” I asked.

Unlike most of the female populace, I didn’t know every last fact about Luke Archer. The news about his parents had made headlines a few years back, and that was all I knew about his personal life.

“I really do. And I talk to or text all of them every day.”

“Plus you kick asses for them.”

Archer’s hazel eyes lightened. “Plus that.” He twisted in his seat so he was almost facing me, his eyes dropping to the phone in my lap. “So? No one messes with my sisters. And no one messes with my team.”

My forehead creased. “I’m not one of your teammates.”

“You’re a part of my team. Just because you don’t play the field or swing a bat doesn’t mean you’re not. You keep us healthy and strong out there.” When I cocked an eyebrow, he added, “And when we get injured, you make sure we get fixed up quickly so we can get back to doing what we love. You’re every bit as vital to this team as . . .” He glanced up and down the aisle like he was looking for someone to fill in the blank with.

“As Luke Archer?” I completed for him.

His answer to that was a lifting of his eyes. “I’m one man who can swing one bat.”

“One bat really, really hard. And very, very exactly,” I interjected.

He continued, “You make sure twenty-five men can keep swinging their own bats.”

“Well, there’s me, the two other athletic trainers, the physical therapist, the personal trainers, and the actual doctor who help out with that too. I can’t take all of the credit.”

“Come on. You work twice as hard as any of them, so you should at least take most of the credit.” When his phone started chiming in his slacks’ pocket, he pulled it out, turned it off, and hid it back in his pocket.

“And since the closest Shepherd and Coach Beckett have let me get to you is handing out a water bottle, how would you know that?”

He pointed at his eyes. “I’ve got two of these and use them for observation on occasion.”

“When they’re not searching for your next conquest?” I gave an internal groan the moment after I’d voiced something that should have stayed unsaid.

My relationships with the players had always been professional and rarely, if ever, delved into the realm of personal information. If it didn’t have to do with preventing or tending to injuries, I didn’t bring it up.

Until now. When I’d just suggested that Luke Archer had a reputation in every city the Shock had visited, every hotel they’d stayed in. Perfect way for my first real conversation with the star player of the team, and the whole of professional baseball, to go.

Archer stayed quiet, studying me with that tipped smile he was famous for.

“You know my opinion on rumors?” he said a minute later.

I was capable of nothing more than shaking my head.

“That they’re started by haters. Spread by fools. And accepted by idiots.”

My head tipped. “Are you calling me an idiot?”

His eyes flashed. “Are you calling me a manwhore?”

I studied him lounging in his seat with his legs kicked out in front of him, his wide chest stretching beneath his suit jacket, his long arms resting on the armrests.. His body was enough to weaken the resolve of someone as jaded to player players as I was, but his face didn’t play second-string.

Brown hair lightened by the sun, smooth skin darkened by it, a strong jaw, and hazel eyes that trended more toward the green end of the spectrum; Luke Archer was quite possibly the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on. According to Sports Anonymous’s random poll of five thousand women, he was the best-looking guy in professional sports today. The other few billion women on the planet would have agreed with that title, I assumed.

“Do you always take so long to answer a question?” Archer motioned at me, waiting.

“No,” I said, recalling the last question he’d asked me. Snap out of it. “I don’t think that you’re a . . . manwhore,” I whispered the last part.

I’d had enough experience with the rumor mill to be a sympathetic party to the target of so many. Being one of the first and only female athletic trainers in professional sports had opened me up to a hundred rumors when I’d been hired. All versions of them had to do with me fucking my way into the position.

“Good.” Archer nodded, seeming satisfied. “Because you certainly don’t seem like an idiot.”

“Thanks?”

He nodded again. “Welcome.”

That was when the pilot’s voice echoed through the team jet, running through his usual spiel. We were leaving Tampa and heading up to Chicago. Now that the season was in full swing, I lost track of the cities we were leaving and the ones we were heading toward. All of my attention was focused on the players and getting them through the season as injury-free as possible.

“I’m still waiting for that name, Doc.” Archer clicked his seat belt into place when one of the attendants stopped beside him, looking ready to strap it into place for him.

When she saw mine unfastened, all I got was a lifted brow and a pointed finger before she moved on to the next aisle.

“Oh, it’s okay. He’s not worth it.” I lifted my phone toward him before dropping it in the duffel bag I kept on hand at all times. Bandages, tape, painkillers, and a small cooler of ice packs were always at the ready whenever I was with the team. “Any guy who breaks up with someone via text message isn’t worth much.”

“Really? Over text?” Archer’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the reason the ass-kicking was invented. For those types of guys.”

I shrugged as the plane started to taxi down the runway, the interior lights dimming. “We haven’t even been together a month. Truthfully, it lasted longer than I thought it would. This kind of lifestyle”—I twirled my finger around the airplane—“makes it difficult to sustain a long-term relationship.”

“That’s why I’m not a fan of them.”

“Long-term relationships?”

“Any kind of relationship,” he said.

I nodded my understanding. The players had it worse than the team staff. At least in terms of having to question if a person was into them for who they were or because of their job, and the fame and money that came with it.

“I’m either practicing for a game, playing a game, recovering from a game, or fueling up and resting for a game. There’s not time for much else,” he said.

Leaning into my armrest, I realized how strange it was to be having such an easy conversation with Luke Archer. It felt natural, not forced. Most of the players would take a moment to chat with me about something game-related, but I was still the new kid on the block. I felt like I had to pass some test before they’d accept me as a member of the team.

Archer didn’t seem to be of the same mind though.

“Yeah, I know. It’s like you need to find someone who can just travel with you wherever you go, right?” I said, thinking how much easier it would to be in a relationship with someone I got to see on a daily basis without two computer screens.

“Exactly. Someone who understands the lifestyle. Appreciates the sacrifices you have to make.”

My head fell back into the headrest from the inertia of takeoff, but I could still feel Archer’s eyes on me. “Someone who understands that the job comes first. Someone who doesn’t get insecure or jealous or bent out of shape that they get the few precious minutes in between the job.”

When my head turned toward him again, I found Luke Archer staring at me with a kind of intensity I hadn’t seen aimed my way in a long time. My breath caught, and even though the strength of his stare threatened to overwhelm me, I held his gaze.

“Someone who understands the game. The commitment. The time. The sacrifice. Someone who’s as committed to it as you are.” One corner of his mouth twitched, carving a dimple into his cheek. “It’s not like you could ever expect to find a person like that sitting in the row across the aisle from you, right?”

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

Website Facebook Twitter Blog Instagram

Category: Romance

Stealing Home by Nicole Williams…Release Day Blitz

Hitched: Volume 1 by Kendall Ryan….Blog Tour & Review

BUY LINKS:

EXCERPT:

No Pants Required by Kim Karr….Excerpt Reveal

No Pants Required by Kim Karr
Release Date: July 11^th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Hang Le

Synopsis:

Excerpt

Add to Goodreads

Pre-Order Links:
Kobo / B&N / iBooks

About the Author:

Amazon / Facebook / Twitter / Website

Dark Mafia Prince by Annika Martin…Blog Tour & Review

ADD TO GOODREADS

The Summer Games: Out of Bonds….Cover Reveal

Hitched by Kendall Ryan…Release Day Blitz

Stroked by Meghan Quinn….Teaser Blast

Drifter by Kathy Coopsman…Excerpt Reveal

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads | Newsletter signup

A Fine Mess by Kelly Siskind….Excerpt Reveal

BLURB

EXCERPT

THE OVER THE TOP SERIES

FOLLOW FOREVER ONLINE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The Matchmaker’s Replacement by Rachel Van Dyken….Excerpt Reveal

Amazon US / Amazon UK / Amazon CA / Amazon AU

Stealing Home by Nicole Williams….Excerpt Reveal

BUY LINKS:

EXCERPT:

No Pants Required by Kim Karr Release Date: July 11th Genre: Contemporary Romance Cover Design: Hang Le

Synopsis:

Excerpt

Add to Goodreads

Pre-Order Links: Kobo / B&N / iBooks

About the Author:

Amazon / Facebook / Twitter / Website

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads | Newsletter signup

BLURB

EXCERPT

THE OVER THE TOP SERIES

FOLLOW FOREVER ONLINE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amazon US / Amazon UK / Amazon CA / Amazon AU

No Pants Required by Kim Karr
Release Date: July 11^th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Hang Le

Pre-Order Links:
Kobo / B&N / iBooks