Picture this.... your neighbor, hot as sin,
plays his music SO loud that you can't even concentrate on the fact that you cannot concentrate.
You go over there, pound on the door, ready to give him hell, and he invites you in for a drink. Hmm
This isn't the only time you and your neighbor hang out, and he shows you just how hot and naughty he really is.
Suddenly, he has completely cleared your writers-block and the words just flow out of you!
Thank you, Naughty Neighbor!!!
Click to find out exactly what Jake Morreau did to help - and was it enough to make her book a success?
​

Excerpt from Naughty Neighbor

The sound of loud music coming from the shared wall of my apartment is deafening. Okay, maybe it’s not that loud, but it’s distracting as all hell. I look at the clock and see it’s nine in the evening, which means this could be the start of hours of raucous partying.

​Boom, Boom, Thump!

​With a huff, I place my laptop on the couch and get up. It pains me to do so when I was finally getting lost in a scene.
That’s why I love writing. Screw the real world and everything that comes along with it. Give me my laptop, a glass of wine and, when I’m not having writers block, I can get lost in writing my next novel for hours--Boom, boom thump!--until someone relentlessly blares music for all to hear. 
I exit my apartment and walk next door. My knuckles vibrate with how hard I’m knocking. In fact, my fist is still moving as the door opens, and I’m greeted by the devilishly handsome smile of the man who lives next door. 
Jake Moreau.
“Hey, Lacey. Want to come in for a drink?” 
His grin is panty melting for sure. 
We’ve lived next door for a while and his attractiveness hasn’t gone unnoticed. Lean yet muscular build, swoon-worthy eyes the color of chocolate, and the perfect angle of his jaw that is rugged and pretty all at the same time. 
Clearly, I’ve been preoccupied with describing my literary heroes because I’m currently spending way too much time appreciating how good looking Jake is… and not the problem at hand.
​

MORE ABOUT NAUGHTY NEIGHBOR

As a romance novelist, I’m facing my worst nightmare—writer’s block.

No matter what I write, I hit delete, knowing it’s not worth publishing. The future of my career rests on the success of this new book.

So, here I am, looking at Tumblr, desperate for inspiration, when I hear a thumping. Annoyed by the music blaring through the walls, I barge into the hall and bang on my neighbor’s door.

My very hot, very naughty neighbor, Jake Morreau.

Jake is romantic, charming, and the bane of my existence. I need to work, yet he refuses to let me.

When he greets me in the hallway, ideas of a sinfully hot hero come to mind.

When he takes me out on the town, the words flow as soon as I come home.

The more time I spend with this entertaining and quick-witted man, the more I’m able to write.

My neighbor is my muse, and before I know it, I slowly become the heroine of my own story, but I don’t know how to end it.

As I write the epilogue, I’m afraid our romance won’t pan out as I’ve written.

Jake Morreau is my hero.

Then again, in my life, heroes don’t exist.

​

Excerpt from Ryder

“I love you,” someone screams from the audience.  I’ve lost count how many declarations of love I’ve gotten tonight.  I’m two-thirds through the show, so there’s no telling.

In a stadium of seventy thousand people, I only get a vague sense of where it came from.  Smirking, I look toward the direction of the voice, the blinding stage lights preventing me from seeing past the first few rows.  Most performers would yell back, “I love you, too,” but not me.  I use a lot of four-letter words, but love isn’t one of them. 

Thousands of people yelling how much they love you, holding up signs asking you to marry them — it’s something you never get used to.  Ten years into my music career, and it’s still bizarre.  Wish I could say I’ve never fallen for the trappings of their love, but I have — too many times, too many nights.

A pair of panties lands on top of my shoe, causing me to chuckle.  Shaking my head, I wonder how many of these young ladies in the crowd are without underwear.  Those are the trappings I’m talking about.

“Ryder,” the crowd chants.  

My band starts the next song, and I kick away the thong, the soft strum of my guitar drowning out all the other noise.  Women, music, and the road go hand-in-hand, but the curves of my guitar are all I’ve ever really needed.  Some call me a loner.  Country music didn’t initially know what to make of me.  I don’t fit the typical mold — no boots or cowboy hats.  Jeans, t-shirts and my guitar — that’s it.

Magazines have dubbed me as brooding.  Truth is, everything I need to say comes out in my songs.  I write my own stuff, always have.  For some reason, it’s always been easier for me to say what I want in a song.  Want to know me, then listen to the lyrics, because the stage show, the star, the “Sexist Man Alive” isn’t me.  It’s all bullshit.

I was late coming into music, didn’t start until I was seventeen, but now, at almost thirty, I can play most any instrument, at least a little.  But the guitar is my favorite.  The curve of the wood reminds me of that beautiful curve of a woman’s body between her tits and her ass.  My favorite spot.  My fingers stroke the strings.  Playing the guitar is like playing with a woman.  Depending on how well you stroke, the sounds that come out could be soft moans or loud screams.  The biggest difference between a guitar and woman is I keep my guitars around forever, and a woman is always gone the next morning.

Tonight’s show is the last of the tour.  Over two hundred shows across three continents, and it ends tonight.  The set we are playing tonight, I’ve played so often I could do it in my sleep.  It’s all scripted — from the “how you doing tonight” to the “encore” performance.  Same shit, different day.  I might sound like an ungrateful asshole.  I’m grateful.  I know I don’t deserve what I have, but I don’t do what I do for the money, the fame.  I don’t even do it for the fans.  I do it because I have to.  I could never write another song, do another show and retire today, but it’s not about the money.  It never has been.  It’s about salvation.  Music is the place I find some peace. 

Still, I’m ready to take a break, write, get back in the studio.  We’ll still be doing a smattering of shows here and there, but on a smaller scale — charity gigs, awards shows, that sort of thing.

I hit the chorus of the song, my eyes scanning the first few rows of the crowd.  I recognize a pair of blue eyes staring back at me.  Has she been there the whole time?  She’s not singing along.  Her hands aren’t waving in the air.  Her body doesn’t sway to the beat.

Kailey.

No last name.  

Only Kailey.  

Only one night.  

The only girl I ever wanted another night with.  The one that got away.  The one I let get away.  We hooked up in New Orleans, nowhere close to L.A., but I do remember her saying she was from California.  I know stalking is illegal, but for her I might allow it. 

Smiling through my lyrics, I wink at her.  The girl next to her starts screaming, but Kailey’s eyes cast downward.  Not missing a beat of my song, I follow her gaze.

To the little bump in her belly.

Shit!

MORE ABOUT RYDER

Country music headliner, crowd pleaser, legend in the bedroom.

You know how your mother always warned you that it only takes one time.  Well, I’m proof of that.  

One night with country music’s hottest star, Ryder Merrick, and I got knocked up.

He promised me it wasn’t just a one night stand.

But I woke up alone, and a few weeks later found out I was carrying his child.

I’m sure Ryder won’t want anything to do with us.  After all, he’s famous for not believing in love.  There’s a reason he’s never written a love song. 

Why should he change his tune now?  But telling him I’m pregnant still feels like the right thing to do.

 All it takes is maxing out my credit card to buy a front row seat to his concert.

And then wait for him to notice me… and my bump.​
​

MEET AUTHOR PRESCOTT LANE

Prescott Lane is the USA TODAY best-selling author of ALL MY LIFE. She's written several other romance books with strong heroines and swoon-worthy heroes. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and an MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life.

Follow Prescott on Amazon

Excerpt from Inked

​He reached out and tangled his hands in her hair, tilted her head to the side, and claimed her mouth with his. A startled gasp left her, but he couldn’t pull away, even though he should’ve. And then she surprised the fuck out of him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing fully against him. Cadeon felt her breasts mold to his chest, and his cock throbbed even harder.

He smoothed his tongue along hers, slid it over her bottom lip and then her top, and pushed it back inside the warm depths of her mouth. She tasted sweet and minty, and he grew addicted to her.

Both of them breathed heavily, and he tightened his fingers into her scalp and devoured her even further. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop this animal that seemed to burst free from him as soon as she touched him. But Stella was the one to back off, and instead of moving away like he thought she would, she curled her fingers into the front of his shirt and rose on her toes to press her mouth to his once more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she said against his mouth. Her warm breath teased his lips. “I have wanted you for the last three years but never thought this moment would ever happen.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and closed his eyes, breathing out roughly. “This shouldn’t be happening, Stella.” But instead of pushing her away like he should have, he curled his fingers into her shoulders and pulled her closer. Her softness against his hardness had the male part of him roaring out in pleasure. Opening his eyes and holding her gaze with his own, he tried to tell himself that this was wrong on every level. But how could something so wrong feel so incredibly right?
​

MORE ABOUT INKED

Around town, Cadeon Morris was known as trouble. He rode a Harley, owned a tattoo shop, and inked the local motorcycle club. He was who he was and explained himself to no one.

Stella was the daughter of Mickey “Scars” Lore, President of the MC in the town of Reckless. She was used to the members of the MC threatening and scaring off any guy who showed interest in her. But at twenty-three, she wanted to experience life for herself, go wild, and do something she may regret later.

It was time for Stella to get a little ink of her own, and Cadeon was going to be the man to give it to her.

Getting it on with a bad boy sounded like a pretty good way to let loose, and it was only meant to be temporary. But it seemed Cadeon wasn’t all about a one-night stand kind of fling.

He wanted it all.

He wanted Stella.
​

MEET AUTHOR JENKIA SNOW

Jenika Snow, a USA Today Bestselling Author, has been published since 2009. She lives in the northeast. She prefers gloomy days, eats the topping off of her pizza first, and wears socks year round.
​
Follow Jenika on Amazon Here

Excerpt from Jonah

“He looks like the fuckin’ Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.” Luca shakes his head and laughs as
Victor makes his way onto the ice.

He does, and I bust out laughing, too.

“What the fuck, man?” I ask my teammate. “If you fall on your ass, you’re not gonna be able to get back up.”

Vic glares at the group of us standing near the goal on the ice. Practice ended a few minutes ago, and since he lost a bet about whether the first or second line would score more goals during a drill, he has to goaltend while every player shoots three pucks at him.

“Yeah, well I know you fuckers are going to try to knock my dick off so I had to put on extra padding,” he says, sulking.

Knox gives him an incredulous look. “You’ve got a dick? I’ve never seen it in the shower. I thought you were the first female NHL player.”

“Laugh it up, assholes,” Vic says, skating over to his spot in front of the goal.

Anton’s first in line to shoot, and he says, “Don’t bitch, man. That bet was your idea.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d shoot like my fucking grandma when I made it. You’re supposed to be on the first line for a reason.”

Anton grins. “I’m not saying I deliberately missed shots so I could see you get knocked on your ass, but…I’m not saying I didn’t, either.”

He fires a puck, and as Victor slides down to block it, he loses his footing and goes down. I feel a twinge of satisfaction. As goalie, I take shit from the guys often about how it’s not as difficult or as exerting as what they do.

Bullshit. I started out playing offense as a center as a kid. In high school, my coach asked me to learn to play goalie as a backup, and I ended up loving it. Hockey is a team sport, and I’ve always liked being part of a team. But as a goalie, I have more control. I don’t have to rely on getting good passes or deal with puck hogs. I get into my own mental zone and escape everyone else during games.

I feel a lot more pressure playing as a goaltender than I did as a center. If I play well, it’s all on me, but if I don’t…that’s all on me, too.

My teammates fire at Vic, pucks hitting his padded chest or getting past him into the goal. He’s scowling, because while he’s a happy-go-lucky guy, he doesn’t like being the butt of anyone’sjoke. He totally brought this on himself, though. Vic runs his mouth too much.

“You suck!” a defender named Pike yells as a puck slides through an opening between Vic’s legs.

“You get over here and try, motherfucker,” Vic calls back, waving his stick in the air.

I see movement up in the owner’s box, and I look up to see our team owner, Olivier Durand, sitting there watching us. He’s wearing a dark suit and a huge grin. I raise a hand in a wave and he waves back.

Durand’s a good guy. He bought the Chicago Blaze because he loves hockey, and he’s been willing to invest in the team and trust his coaching staff. Other teams have micromanaging owners or worse, cheap ones.
​

MEET AUTHOR BRENDA ROTHERT

Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.

​Follow Brenda on Amazon Here

SCANDALOUS PRINCE

I was born under fire and swore to protect her until my dying day, I just never knew that one day, I'd be the very monster I was protecting her from.
She didn't know it was me.
She didn't know that I had no choice and would do it again and again to save her.
I may as well have given her the mark on her finger.
The one that shows where her loyalty must lie.
Because we don't sin in silence.
And eventually, you have to pay up what you owe.
My need to protect her turned into a lie to save her.
And when she found out—I turned in to the very monster I was trying to protect her from.
Watching Violet Abandonato walk out of my life was like a knife to the chest, a wound that refused to heal.
The bosses sent me to protect her, to watch over her even though I was the demon she fled.
We both carry scars.
But if all I can have is her hate for as long as I breathe.
I'll take it.
Because at the end of the day, I should burn in Hell forever thinking Chase Abandonato's perfect angel would pick me—over her perfect life.
"I broke you," I confessed.
"The worst part… is that you liked it," she snapped right back.
Welcome to the second generation of the mafia, may the best man or woman, be left standing.
May God bless our tainted souls.
​

MEET AUTHOR RACHEL VAN DYKEN

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!

Follow Rachel on Amazon

Excerpt from Bared Souls

​I feel him turn away from me, and I lift my tear-soaked face. “Why?” I say into the darkness. 

Leo turns back toward me.

“We were perfect,” I say. “Why’d you do that when we had everything?”

“You are perfect,” he retorts, his heartache palpable. “I am nothing.”

My lip trembles. “You were something to me.”
A slow song starts, and the ache in my chest grows. The first notes of “If the World Was Ending,” by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels, echo against the basement walls. I’ve been listening to this song on repeat over the past month every time I need a good cry. To me, it speaks to two people who desperately love each other but can’t be together. The music connects with my heartbroken soul. 

Leo extends his hand, barely visible, save for the glow band around his wrist. Without thinking, I take it, and he pulls me into his arms. He holds me, and I cry against him as we sway to the melancholy music. He smells like Leo, a mixture of his natural scent and his body wash. It’s intoxicating. I breathe deep, committing the way he smells to memory. My arms circle his body. I want to remember what it feels like to have him in my arms. He’s always been so much bigger and taller than me, larger than life as he captured my heart. The way he holds me and how I melt into his body, it’s pure magic. It’s undeniable chemistry, and this is the last I’ll feel of it. This dance is our good-bye song. 

Leo kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering, and his chest swells as he breathes me in. His arms squeeze me tight, and my body shakes against his as I cry. The slow song is over, but we remain in this tortured embrace. My battered soul clings to his for several more fleeting moments, and I break as he pulls away. 

“I’ll never forgive you.” My lip trembles. 

He swipes a tear-soaked strand of hair away from my face. “I’m counting on it,” he says before walking away.

MORE ABOUT BARED SOULS

Alma Weber
He told me that he’d destroy me.
I knew he wasn’t lying, and I loved him anyway. 
I believed in love—in him.
I just wasn’t prepared to carry the weight of his demons.
I wanted forever with him, but life showed me love was temporary, and forever was a dream.
Despite everything that happened, even now, I wouldn’t change any of it.
For a love to have the capacity to destroy you, it has to be extraordinarily powerful—and that kind of love is impossible to walk away from.


Leo Harding
I warned her that I’d ruin her. I knew that I’d taint her innocence with my bad intentions.
I was weak.     
She was perfection.
I was nothing.
The truth is that I loved her, and I selfishly wanted to hold on—to her, to the man she had made me, to the life we could have.
I wanted to dance with her in the light despite knowing that the darkness would find me anyway.
Heartbreak was inevitable.
Yet I held on to the sliver of hope that I was wrong, that love really was enough.
Destiny isn’t something I buy into, but she makes me want to believe.

​

 MEET AUTHOR ELLIE WADE

Ellie Wade resides in southeast Michigan with her husband, three children, and three dogs. She has a Master’s degree in education from Eastern Michigan University and is a huge University of Michigan sports fan. She loves the beauty of her home state, especially the lakes and the gorgeous autumn weather. When she is not writing, you will find her reading, snuggled up with her kiddos, or spending time with family and friends. She loves traveling and exploring new places with her family.
​Follow Ellie on Amazon HERE

Excerpt from Watch Me

​Drawn into those gorgeous eyes of hers, he dropped his mouth onto hers before he picked her up and laid her out on the cushions. Right here, right now, he didn’t give two fucks about the show anymore. Innocence and purity, waiting for him to take. But there was something unique about her, something that felt addictive. He opened his belt, unable to take his eyes off her. While she watched him undress, her cheeks burned deeper, and he wondered, as his cock spilled free, how deep he could make those cheeks burn. She took in the size of him, and her wide eyes made him grin, a most unexpected reaction. Usually, he kept things all business. All pleasure. But with her…what is it about you? 
He knew she expected him to cover her body and take her. Instead, he thrust his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her to his mouth. At the first gentle stroke of his tongue against her tight heat, her chin tilted up, a soft moan spilling out. A sound that tightened his groin. She tasted sweet as he slowly stroked over her clit, swirling the bud, until he dipped lower and groaned at her lovely wetness. She shuddered beneath him, and a quick look up at her revealed those cheeks were even darker than he’d hoped. Over and over again, he teased her, taking her right to the edge, then slowing down. Making her wild. When she gave a loud moan and a hard tremble, he lowered her bottom down to the chaise again then knelt in front of her. She reached for his arms then, holding him in such a way that felt far too intimate for the surroundings. It occurred to him that this woman was unlike anyone he’d met before. A virgin, shy, but also full of passion. The contradiction fascinated and intrigued him.
Unable to look away from her, he swiped his thumb over her clit. Her lips parted, and soft moans spilled out. A sound so beautiful, he accepted the invitation. He leaned over and kissed her as he stroked his fingers down her drenched folds. She tightened her lips on his when he slid one finger inside her tight heat and slowly worked her over. By the time he inserted another finger, her fingernails were digging into his arms. Not to stop him, but to bring him closer. Every swipe of her tongue against his was begging for him to take her where she’d never gone. 
Tonight, he’d take her far past that. 
Her breaths became heavy, her moans louder as she broke away from the kiss, her chin angling up. He was tempted to continue driving her wild with his fingers, but he knew better. She’d accept him easier on the edge of her pleasure. And with only her comfort and safety on his mind, he sheathed himself in the condom. He shifted closer, staying on his knees between her spread thighs. He became lost in the sweetness of her eyes. Something in her soul, keeping him transfixed. He only looked away to drench the tip of his cock in her arousal. Around him, he sensed the crowd go quiet, eager for what came next. 
A whimper escaped her as he inserted just the tip, and he met her eyes. The crowd faded once again, and the most unexpected reaction overtook him. With a hand on her hip, he did what he’d never done with anyone to walk through Phoenix’s doors; he cupped her face intimately and held her gaze, keeping her attention on him. Protecting her, shielding her, becoming absorbed in her. Lost in all the unexpected magic that silently passed between them, he thrust forward, her shocked gasp echoing around him. His eyes shut of their own accord at her tight heat squeezing him like a damn vise. A low groan spilled from his lips as he slowly pulled out, staring down at the blood of her innocence. He looked to her face again, but the heated eyes he expected to see weren’t on him. Nor was her mask. Her bare face revealing hurt, hatred, and rage all directed at someone in the crowd. Then a single tear fell down her beautiful face, and a protective burn coursed through his veins while a haunting truth dawned on him. 
This woman had an agenda tonight, and Rhys had played right into her plan. 

MORE ABOUT WATCH ME

In the Phoenix club, there is only one rule; watch, don't touch, until the powerful owner falls for his new star.

It's her choice to play his game. If she says yes, there will be more on the line than just her pleasure.

Zoey Parker has a three-step plan for revenge. First, gain entrance to the ultra-exclusive, upscale sex club, Phoenix. Second, act out her wildest fantasy in front of powerful old rivals, proving that they didn't break her. Third, disappear and never return. The only kink in her plan? Rhys Harrington, the owner of Phoenix and the one man she needs to stay away from...

Rhys' high-end clients pay extravagant amounts to watch his stars indulge their desires. Rhys' only rule? Watch, don't touch. But one look at Zoey and Rhys decides to participate in the show himself. And when an undeniable passion ignites between them, Rhys knows he wants more. Except Zoey is determined to run... and he is determined to find out why.

When Rhys discovers Zoey's secret, he shocks her by offering his protection... and a no-strings-attached relationship. But Zoey knows there will be more on the line than just her pleasure. Because Rhys' sizzling touch doesn't only capture her body, it also commands her heart.
​

MEET AUTHOR STACEY KENNEDY

Stacey Kennedy is a USA Today bestselling author who writes contemporary romances full of heat, heart, and happily ever afters. With over 50 titles published, her books have hit Amazon, B&N, and Apple Books bestseller lists.

Stacey lives with her husband and two children in southwestern Ontario—in a city that’s just as charming as any of the small towns she creates. Most days, you’ll find her enjoying the outdoors with her family or venturing into the forest with her horse, Priya. Stacey’s just as happy curled up indoors, where she writes surrounded by her lazy dogs. She believes that sexy books about hot cowboys or alpha heroes can fix any bad day. But wine and chocolate help too.
​
​Follow Stacey on Amazon

Shawn Paros.
Alien. Assassin. Time Traveler.  
The government wants him dead.
Rayna Newman... not so much.
Get your copy of ECHOES OF TIME to read this incredible love story!
Echoes of Time Travel Series: Book One
​

Excerpt from Echoes of Time

​He’s a man of action, and I appreciate that. If he’s going to work with me, he has to know I’ve got his back.”
“And, do you?”
Shawn didn’t answer for a long moment. Rayna bided her time, let him come to a determination he probably hadn’t thought out until this moment.
“I’m used to working alone, but yeah, unless he threatens my life, or yours, I have his back.” 
Rayna let out a slow breath. “Good, I’m glad. He’s not such a bad guy when he’s not being a jerk.”
“You think he’s a jerk?”
She laughed, stirring her coffee out of habit. “That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you think.”
“Maybe I think men in general are jerks.” She glanced up at him, a teasing smile playing on her lips, and found an even more interesting one on his. “What’s with that Cheshire smile?”
“Was I smiling?” He tilted his head, allowing the smile to almost turn into a taunt. A subtle seduction. 
“Gah, you’re infuriating sometimes.” She snaked out her hand, grabbed the little plastic lid of Shawn’s water bottle, and threw it at him.
In a blur of motion, he caught the lid right before it hit him. Like a cat. A tomcat. A dangerous and sexy feline of the male persuasion.
He leaned in close, bronzed muscled forearms resting on the table between them, until his lips were a breath away from hers. 
“Sometimes? You think I’m infuriating all the time, don’t you?” He held out the bottle cap. “Wanna throw it at me again?”
Instead of answering and playing into his hands, she picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. Shawn sat back, a look of triumph on his face.
Sighing into the cup of cooling java, she shook her head. “Please stop doing that.”
Shawn’s brows furrowed in what seemed to be genuine confusion as he squinted at her. “Stop doing what?”
“Playing me. Like you’re picking me up in a bar or something. We don’t have a lot of time. Can’t you be real, even for a little while?” Setting her cup down, she blinked back the threat of tears.
“Is that…” He frowned and pushed back in his chair, the scraping sound on the floor grating on her nerves. “Is that what I’m doing?”
Rayna made an unhappy sound in her throat. “You’re doing it right now.”
“No, Ray, you’re wrong.” He lowered his tone, and her gaze shot up at the sincerity in his voice. “I’m not doinganything. I...don’t know how else to be.”
All of Rayna’s hurt and anguish disappeared with those words. She’d forgotten for a moment not just who, but what Shawn was—an alien from another planet who’d had a terrible upbringing. One she couldn’t possibly begin to fathom. Not yet, anyway. She needed...wanted more time to understand him.
Pain darkened his eyes. Sorrow creased his forehead, slumped his shoulders. She bit her lip, empathy tightening her chest. 
Tentatively, she reached out a hand and laid it with a feather touch on his arm. “Do you want to be different? I mean, with me?”
Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. “I think so...yes.”
Rayna smiled even as a tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek. “Promise me you’re coming back.”
He held her gaze. “I promise.”
“No. Say the words. Please, Shawn. I need to hear the words.” Her voice broke and she lowered her head, swiping at the tears.
Shawn reached out his arm, hooking a finger under her chin, and forced her head back up. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Cry. Don’t cry, Ray. I promise, I’m coming back.”
She nodded as fresh tears fell. They would soon be a torrent. “Say it again.”
Shawn smiled, and it was the sweetest smile she’d ever seen, on him or anyone else. It told her how much he cared. How much he was trying. 
He caressed her cheek, and she bent her head into his touch, but he’d already stood up. He came around the table, pulled her to her feet, and pressed her against the wall. “I’m coming back.”
For a moment, she shut her eyes. His warmth, his body caused a wealth of sensations to cascade through her, all ending at the needful moisture growing between her legs. 
Oh, what this man did to her.
He moved in for a kiss, but she ducked, looking up at him. “One more time. Tell me.”
He planted his palms on the wall, one on either side of her head. “I don’t understand. This is what you wanted. This is what I risked everything for.”
“I know, I know. It’s stupid. Just bear with me, okay, please?” She choked back a sob. “Female humans. We’re a mystery. Tell me once more.”
“Third time’s the charm?” 
The warmth of his body cradled her like a blanket, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in him. Her hands traced a path up his back, reveling in his power, his strength, as he flexed his muscles to keep from crushing her as he stood pressed against her body. 
He bent his head close to hers, his breath tickling the delicate flesh of her neck. “Don’t be afraid, Ray. I’m coming back.” 
He spoke in a low, gentle voice that made him seem even more masculine, if that was possible.  
Before she could reply, he brought his lips down onto hers. He kissed her with slow, burning urgency, his lips pressing harder with each passing second. She opened her mouth to him and his tongue crashed in, leaving her breathless. His hand snaked under her shirt and she gasped into his mouth, his palm a burning brand that radiated heat through her where it rested on her hip. His thumb flicked back and forth over her flesh, raising goose bumps as their tongues danced.
He’d told her three times. It was stupid, she knew, but she took heart in his promise. That he’d indulged her at all. In desperation, she clung to him, her senses overwhelmed, lost in a moment that needed to go on forever.
But it didn’t. He squeezed her waist and broke the kiss. His eyes shone, and a smile teased his lips. She melted into his gaze and reached for another kiss, but he pulled back.
“We’ll finish this another time, Ray. I gotta go.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Be good while I’m away. I doubt they’ll let you go until I prove myself to them so have fun with it. Make ’em buy you a car or something.” 
He flashed a teasing smile before returning to his solemn expression. He seemed to study her, burning an imprint of her face into his memory before turning and striding from the cafeteria. 
She shivered, colder now for his lack of contact. Fear gripped her heart as he disappeared from view. He didn’t stop to glance back at her, and she heaved a sigh of relief. If he had, she likely would have run to him, held on, not let him leave at all. 
This was her doing. He was going on a dangerous mission to kill someone because of her. If he failed, the fault rested on her shoulders. She didn’t want to wallow in the sense of dread that she’d made a horrible decision that threatened to drown her, but it was difficult not to.
She didn’t know if she could live with the potentially devastating consequences of her ill-thought-out plan.
How was killing for the government any better?
What the hell had she been thinking?
She suddenly wanted to stop him. Run away with him. Take him away from this life altogether. 
But it was too late.
​

MORE ABOUT ECHOES OF TIME

​Alien. Assassin. Time Traveler.

Shawn Paros, a flawed and dangerous time-traveling alien, is living his life out on earth as a hired assassin.

Cold, calculated, and emotionless, he makes for the perfect career criminal. But nothing could prepare him for Rayna Newman, the one person who can tear down all of his defenses.

Rayna breathes life into his pointless world, and now, he'll do whatever it takes to hold on to her. Even honoring her most absurd request: to work for the United States government and stop his criminal ways.

There's only one problem.

The government wants him dead.
​

MEET AUTHOR RYLEE SWANN

​USA Today bestselling author Rylee Swann is often found in her writing cave, located in a small purple office in a large old Victorian house in Upstate New York. Here she battles with mammoth spiders, works at her hectic marketing manager job, and enjoys the company of the strong, confident, sexy characters she writes about in her romance books. 

Amid all that, she also makes time to snuggle with her two cats, who couldn't care less about the spiders. Much to her chagrin.

Follow Rylee on Amazon

LONDON PREP: Book 3
Her time is coming to a close at Kensington...
but relationships are getting more complicated!

Midnight Delivery from Amazon
click now to get LONDON PREP: Book 3!

MORE ABOUT   LONDON PREP: BOOK 3

t's the last week of my exchange in London, and my flight leaves on Saturday. 

Harry wants our relationship to progress, but his family life is falling apart. And shocking news from his parents might send him over the edge. 

Noah is becoming more reckless with both his words and his actions. Between longing glances, sweet conversations and heated moments, I don't know where we stand. 

And Mohammad tells me that I have some important decisions to make. 

The countdown is on, and only two things are certain. 
I'm going to have to leave the three boys I've grown to love. 

​And by the end of the week, I'm not sure if any of them will ever forgive me. 

It's a good thing my time at Kensington is almost up.

MORE ABOUT  GOLD MINE

​Holly Frank is in trouble. The deadly kind.

She and her sister must evade the authorities and the criminals who want them dead. Including Elijah North. The man who took her heart in Paris, her body in a prison cell, and her trust without remorse.

He’s determined to keep her safe. Even if that means losing her forever.

Adam Bisset has his own dark agenda.

She’s caught between the two men, torn apart with every sensual push and pull. Each touch is a lie, each whispered tenderness a trap—but she can’t resist them.

Their lies are tearing her apart. Her enemies are catching up with her. And when she’s taken captive again, she finds out secrets to unravel it all.
​

MEET AUTHOR SKYE WARREN

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance. Her books have sold over one million copies. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.

Follow Skye on Amazon