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EXCLUSIVE COVER REVEAL: Whiskey and Lies by Carrie Ann Ryan

10/11/2017

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The Montgomery Ink world just got a bit larger. 

Dark heroes, tragic pasts, and heroines who rock their worlds…the Collins Brothers are about to see what happens when their small Pennsylvanian town gets shocked to its core. 
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The Collins Brothers just want to go about their business and live their lives. They’re in no mood for what happens when three women come into their lives when they’re least expecting it. One comes to change what was lost, another comes to prove what could be, while the third reveals what’s already been there all along. 

Whiskey, Pennsylvania just got a little bit bigger and this town might not be ready for what’s coming. 

Tabby’s Brothers from Ink Exposed get a series of their own. 

The Whiskey and Lies Series, begins with Whiskey Secrets on January 2nd. 

Each book is a complete stand alone and can be read in any order.

​WHISKEY SECRETS (Whiskey and Lies #1) 

Coming January 2, 2018!

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Sparks fly between a former cop-turned-bartender and his new innkeeper in the first installment of a Montgomery Ink spin-off series from NYT Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan. 

Dare Collins is a man who knows his whiskey and women—or at least that’s what he tells himself. When his family decides to hire on a new innkeeper for the inn above his bar and restaurant, he’s more than reluctant. Especially when he meets the new hire. But he’ll soon find that he has no choice but to work with this city girl and accept her new ideas and the burning attraction between them.
Kenzie Owens left her old life and an abusive relationship behind her—or so she thought. She figures she’ll be safe in Whiskey, Pennsylvania but after one look at her new boss, Dare Collins, she might still be in danger, or at least her heart. And when her past catches up with her despite her attempts to avoid it, it’s more than her heart on the line. This time, it might mean her life. 


​Preorder Your Copy of WHISKEY SECRETS Today!
Amazon US I  Amazon UK I Amazon CA I iBooks I Nook I KOBO I GooglePlay 
 

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WHISKEY REVEALS
​(Whiskey and Lies #2) 

Coming June 12, 2018
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Fox and Melody’s book.
More info coming soon!

Pre-Order Your Copy Now!
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WHISKEY UNDONE
(Whiskey and Lies #3) 

Coming October 2, 2018
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Loch and Ainsley’s book.
More info coming soon!
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a Pre-order notification! 

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Meet Carrie Ann Ryan

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Carrie Ann Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance. Her works include the Montgomery Ink, Redwood Pack, Talon Pack, and Gallagher Brothers series, which have sold over 2.0 million books worldwide. She started writing while in graduate school for her advanced degree in chemistry and hasn’t stopped since. Carrie Ann has written over fifty novels and novellas with more in the works. When she’s not writing about bearded tattooed men or alpha wolves that need to find their mates, she’s reading as much as she can and exploring the world of baking and gourmet cooking.
                               I Facebook I Amazon I GoodReads I Website I Newsletter I Twitter I Instagram I 
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Sneak Peek: Fake Fiancée by Ilsa Madden-Mills

1/25/2017

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Meet Max Kent, best damn quarterback in the country,
in Fake Fiancée by Ilsa Madden-Mills Coming This February! 
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                                        Chapter  1
                                Sunny

​A warm summer night.
Music on the radio.
A young girl driving a red Mustang convertible.
It sounded perfect—only the evening was humid as hell, the radio was stuck on a stupid gospel station, and the car, well, it was stolen.
Chewing on my nails, I debated on pulling off to the side of the road and putting the top down, but this wasn’t a pleasure ride. Obviously. I had to get out of Snowden, North Carolina before I lost my nerve to run away.
An image of my father loomed. He’d pop a blood vessel when he discovered I’d not only stolen his car but also most of the money from his wallet. I pictured his barrel chest and the way his thick fingers clenched when he was angry. He’d be grabbing his Bible and snapping his belt up. If he found me, he’d--
Stop.
I shook myself, focusing on Atlanta, Georgia. I had family there on my mom’s side, people my father refused to talk to. I’d be safe . . .
For the hundredth time, I checked the rearview mirror and saw nothing but black highway, pine trees, and mountains. No one was following me, and I hadn’t met a car in half an hour. I could almost imagine I was the only person alive in the world.
I fiddled with the radio station just as a raccoon dashed in front of me, and I swerved.
Wrong move.
The tires locked and the car went into a tailspin. I froze up, helpless as I was pressed against the seat of my Tilt-A-Whirl. A thud. Screeching metal. The car ground to a halt against a guardrail that lined a narrow bridge.
Shit!
I ran shaking hands over my face and the rest of my body. I was injury free except for my chest aching from the seatbelt catching me. No airbag had gone off and the engine was still running. Thank God. Maybe if I made it to Knoxville, I could ditch the car and buy a bus ticket to--
Everything went to hell.
The car lurched forward with a groan that sent chills up my spine as the guardrail gave in to the weight of the front end. My world tipped and then froze again. I could see the murky lake below rippling in the moonlight. I recoiled in my seat, willing the car to not move another inch.
It didn’t work.
The Mustang slipped down the rocky side, nose-dived off the edge, and slammed into the water below. I screamed the entire way down, my hands like a vise around the steering wheel.
This wasn’t happening.
It was.
I clawed at the seatbelt and unlatched it, but when I went to open the door, it refused. Water pressure blocked my way out.
Dosomethingdosomethingdosomethingdosomething . . .
The smell of algae surrounded me as water seeped in from the floorboard. It crept up my legs, my chest, my chin. I scrambled away from the cold but there was no escape. I took one last gulp of air as the vehicle sank below the surface, water gushing in through the soft top. Light as a feather, the car drifted down several feet and settled on the bottom of the lake.
Silence.
I watched my blond hair float around my face.
I looked around at the watery darkness.
The car should be pressurized.
I could get out now, right?
God, I didn’t know.
I was only seventeen.
I didn’t know anything about anything!
I tugged at the door handle again. Nothing.
I tried to roll down the window, but the electric wasn’t working.
Break the windows!
I positioned my legs on the glass and shoved.
Stomped.
Beat.
I was never getting out.
Dizziness.
Panic.
My chest burned.
My nails scrabbled at the vinyl top of the vehicle. Searching for a tear. Anything.
I closed my eyes and wished myself out of the car. I even wished myself back home in that shabby house on the side of the mountain.
God, please.
Bubbles came out of my mouth.
IwasgoingtodieIwasgoingtodieIwasgoingtodieIwasgoingtodie . . .
Then I heard it—a tap, then a scratching sound. My eyes flew open.
The top of the Mustang moved. A small hole appeared and then grew bigger.
My heart surged.
Someone was there.
Someone was tearing into the car with a knife.
Everything went black.
***
Consciousness came slowly, dragging me along in bits and pieces.
Something warm touched my lips, and I coughed as pain rippled through my throat and chest. Hands turned me on my side and water gushed out.
I struggled to suck in precious air as my eyes cracked open.
Where was I?
Who had saved me?
I was lying on a shore with sand, cattails, and wild grasses. Mountain evergreens lined the perimeter.
But that wasn’t what got my attention.
A young man—or angel—huddled over me. I blinked, zeroing in on him. Even wet he was handsome with a jaw that was wonderfully chiseled, lips that were lush, and broad shoulders that looked as if they could hold the weight of the world. Water lingered on his way-too-long-to-be-real black lashes. Even in my state of shock, I recognized he was flawless.
Heavy breathing escaped his lips, and I gingerly touched my own. He’d kissed me.
It’s called mouth-to-mouth, you hillbilly.
“I thought you were dead,” he said as if he could barely believe I wasn’t. He rubbed his face briskly, pushing wet hair out of his face. “Was anyone else in the car?”
“What?” I croaked. My brain hadn’t caught up yet.
He stumbled as he stood and weaved on his feet. “Wait here. I’ll try to get them—”
“N-no,” I whispered, reaching a hand out to stop him. My voice was ragged. “Just me.”
He came back and collapsed down next to me, eyes searching my face in the darkness. “You hurt?”
I shook my head. I didn’t think so. If I was alive, I was okay. Images of the wreck flashed in my mind. Being trapped. The dark water. A shudder racked my body, and I made a guttural noise in the back of my throat I’d never heard before.
He gathered me in his arms, his hand palming my scalp. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Shhh.” His neck smelled male and spicy, and my fingers dug into his shoulders to pull him closer. We stayed that way for a while, and after my shivering stilled, I eased back and glanced up to the bridge, noticing there weren’t any other cars.
Where had he come from on this dark and lonely night?
He’d braved the water to cut me out, and the average person wouldn’t—couldn’t—have done that. If he hadn’t been here in this exact spot when I’d gone over, I’d be dead and swimming with the fishes. 
No one crosses our path without a reason. I believed this.
“You sure you’re okay?” He pushed hair out of my face, his voice incredibly gentle.
I nodded. “Thank you.” 
We locked eyes, and a spark zinged from my head to my toes. One, two, three moments passed, and something—I couldn’t tell you what—fell gently into place. In the space between my near death and waking up, is it crazy to say I recognized him even though I didn’t know him? How is that even possible?
A siren wailed in the distance, pulling me back, and I visibly flinched as fear swallowed me again. The cavalry was on its way—police or an ambulance. Either way it all led back to my father and his rules. And I wasn’t going back. Ever.
Rolling out of his arms, I stumbled to my feet, grasped a nearby pine tree to steady myself, and scoured the dark forest beyond the lake. There was a town a few miles from here; maybe a phone. I grimaced as pain shot through my leg, and I touched it, finding a three-inch gash on my inner thigh. Blood dripped. It wasn’t a main artery, but I’d need to get something on it. It would probably leave a scar—another one to add to the list.
I whipped off my T-shirt, thankful I wore a bra as well as a camisole. Pulling on the neck, I ripped the Snowden High School Lions shirt into two pieces, my strength a heck of a lot stronger than I’d anticipated, probably from the high that came from nearly biting the dust. I dabbed the gash with one of the pieces then used a clean corner of it to wipe the tears from my face. The other piece I tied around my leg.
“That looks bad,” he said softly, coming closer to me with his eyebrows drawn in tightly. For the first time I noticed he was practically naked, wearing tight black briefs and nothing else. He must have ripped his clothes off to dive in. A Viking of a man, he stood well over six feet tall, his body perfectly sculpted with well-defined muscles.
Up close, I watched a droplet of water drift down his chest to his six-pack abs. I sighed. God had been using his A game when he’d created my hero. 
Part of me was . . . excited. I’d never seen an almost naked guy. 
I tore my gaze away from him and looked around at the picturesque shoreline and how the moonlight shimmered on the lake. Maybe I was dead and this was heaven?
The sirens inched closer, the high-pitched sound crawling up my spine.
I took a step backward, further into the woods, my foot crunching on the sound of pine needles and fallen leaves.
“Don’t run, please,” he said, raising his hands up hesitantly. He studied my face. “I know you’re scared, but I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
How did he know I was running?
Because you look like you just stole something, stupid.
I chewed on my bottom lip, contemplating what to tell him. Not the truth—that was for certain. “You didn’t see me here,” I went with, my voice still scratchy. “You never pulled me out of that car.”
“Why?” His brow knitted again. “People will be worried about you.”
“Please—just don’t tell them.” Desperation rang in my tone as I tried to convey to him everything I didn’t have time to explain. 
“Wait,” he said, his warm hand brushing against mine, but then he let it fall to his side, a confused expression on his face as if he didn’t know what to make of me. 
I was confused as well. And scared. Yet in the middle of those tumultuous emotions, I was drawn to him. My body hummed with an acute awareness of our proximity, and my heart thumped so loudly that I pressed my hands to my chest. I was sure he could hear it.
What was this thing between us? Adrenaline? Lust? Destiny? I didn’t know.
But I did know he sent a buzz straight to my heart. 
I wished the moon had been bright enough to see the color of his eyes.
I wished I knew his name.
I wished . . . I wished fate would bring us together again, some other time, some other place.
But not today.
With one last lingering look at his face, I turned and ran into the woods.

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MORE About Fake Fiancée

They say nothing compares to your first kiss,
But our first kiss was orchestrated for an audience.
Our second kiss . . . that one was REAL.
He cradled my face like he was terrified he’d f*ck it up.
He stared into my eyes until the air buzzed.
Soft and slow, full of sighs and little laughs,
He inhaled me like I was the finest Belgian chocolate,
And he’d never get another piece.
A nip of his teeth, his hand at my waist . . .
And I was lost.
I forgot he was paying me to be his fake fiancée.
I forgot we weren’t REAL.
Our kiss was pure magic, and before you laugh and say those kinds of kisses don’t exist,
Then you’ve never touched lips with Max Kent, the hottest quarterback in college history.

Three months . . .
Two hearts . . .
One fake engagement . . .

ADD TO YOUR TBR HERE

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New York Times and USA Today best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She's addicted to dystopian books and all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding females. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she's a Gemini), and tattoos. 
She has a degree in English and a Master's in Education.
When she's not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets and paints old furniture.
                                Website I Facebook I Twitter I  Pinterest | Goodreads | Instagram I Fan Group I 
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Meet Hawke Calvin in Torn Between Two by Mia Kayla

1/25/2017

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  #NEW Rockstar vs. Lawyer. Who will win her heart?  
​Find out in a SNEAK PEEK of Torn Between Two by Mia Kayla!  NOW LIVE! 
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And, all of a sudden, it was like a dizzying dream.
My heartbeat sped up, and then in the next second, I was in front of the lead singer of Def Deception. I stood, unblinking, my eyes taking in every detail of him from his chiseled jaw to his sparkling eyes to the scar right above his eyebrow. He tipped his head, sporting a crooked smile. 
A smile so panty-dropping gorgeous that the teenage butterflies in my stomach fainted and then were brought back to life again, causing a frenzy in my belly. All from his crooked smile.
Le sigh…again.
The magazines did not do him justice. He was most definitely more handsome than my calendar that Chloe had gotten me for Christmas. His eyes were the greenest of greens, just like emeralds or as vibrant as a newly manicured lawn.
The bodyguard released my elbow, and I stepped closer, my left yellow Converse hitting his black leather boot.
“Name?”
I heard him clearly, yet it was as though my mouth had been wired shut. I lost all ability to speak, think, or utter my own name. 
Chloe nudged my shoulder. “I’m Chloe, and this is Sam.”
He didn’t tear his eyes from mine as he shook Chloe’s hand first and then reached for my waist where I had to bend down to hear what he had to say. “Is Sam short for Samantha?” His warm breath tickled my skin and caused goose bumps to spread down my neck.
Hawke is touching me. Hawke. Is. Touching. Me.
I pulled back and nodded, still mesmerized by his beauty and trying to keep my cool. I inhaled deeply and coughed because I had, at some point, forgotten to exhale. I guessed breathing normally in his vicinity was not possible.
His fingertips grazed the bare skin at my waist and he pulled me onto his lap. One minute ago, I had been a girl just hoping to see her rock idol, and now, I was straddling him, knees on either side of his waist.
That seemed to break me from my trance, and I pushed at his chest. “Wait.” 
“Relax.” He planted his hands on my hips to keep me still. “Sam, relax.” 
Like that was even possible. I was straddling Hawke Calvin. And there I was again, dazed and confused at the sound of my name falling from his lips. 
“Is there something you wanted, sexy?” His eyes smoldered, and his tone dropped an octave lower.
Me, sexy? Okay, sure. What did I want? 
I gulped. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, like mixed-up computer code.
He licked his lips as his fingertips drew tiny circles on my hips, triggering tingles throughout my body. From the look in his eyes, I knew what he wanted. 
But I couldn’t. We wouldn’t.
I snapped myself back to reality. 
“No…it’s not what you’re thinking.” I shifted forward to get the postcard from my back pocket and froze when I felt his hard length against my inner thigh.
Any sort of reasoning flew out the door. I wasn’t a virgin. I’d been in two long-term, failed relationships, but I didn’t sleep around. One-night flings were not in my vocabulary. Even with a rock star.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Who knew if he was aroused by me? For all I knew, he wore a rock-star boner from the moment he woke up until his head hit the pillow.
“Never mind.” Forget the autograph. I tried to wiggle off, but his hands only tightened against my waist. “Can you let go?” 
“Is that what you really want?” His crooked smirk was enough to melt me again, but I was not that girl. 
“No, I wanted an autograph, but I’m not really comfortable…right now.” Something snapped within me, through all the weed and smoke in the air and the loud music. Yes! Clarity and sanity and virtue had arrived.
He was a gorgeous face and had a beautiful voice, but I was a relationship kind of girl. My stomach dropped at the total letdown in meeting him. I’d had such high expectations. I’d wanted to pick his brain about his music, about his songs and the inspiration behind the lyrics to his tunes. 
But the typical rock star only wanted one thing. Crushing disappointment seeped into my skin.
“What do you want me to autograph?” The glint of the strobe lights caught the green in his eyes. 
Because his voice didn’t have that same sexual intonation as it had a second ago, I pulled the postcard of the band from my back pocket and handed it to him. “This.” 
He tipped his chin toward his bodyguard, and the big guy handed him a pen. It was like they could communicate without actually using words. 
He held the pen in his hand and sucked in his bottom lip. “See, I don’t give anything up without getting something in return.” 
My eyebrows jumped to my hairline. “Right here? Sorry, it’s not happening.” My response shot out quick, steady, automatic. I wasn’t going to have a public exhibition for everyone to see.
“No.” His eyes danced with amusement. “One kiss.” 
My body tensed. I didn’t like being forced into something. Never had. But this was a no-brainer. 
Did I want to kiss one of the biggest rock stars in the world? 
Forbes’s richest entertainer? People’s sexiest man alive? The lead singer of Def Deception? 
I nodded, my heart leaping into my throat, and then before I could say anything, it happened. He leaned forward, his lips meeting mine, and a flame ignited my whole body. His kiss was overwhelming. Warm at first but fire the next. Tingles initiated at our connection, even reaching to the tips of my tiny toes. 
A moan escaped him as the pen slipped from his hand and hit my arm. One hand reached under my shirt to my bare back while the other grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me closer, flush against him. My pulse raced, and my skin warmed as he groaned and deepened our kiss. 
Sanity had left, and so had clarity. Soon, my panties would be next.
With one flick of his tongue, I opened and breathed him in, his musky cologne with a hint of spice. His tongue intertwined with mine. His hard mouth devoured my softness.
My hands reached for his hair, lying just above his neck. It was soft and silky, and I gently tugged at the strands.
His touch and the scent of him were like drugs lulling me toward nirvana.
When he forcefully moved my body against his erection, my breathing labored, and my body heated. I pulled back, and my heart jumped into my throat. Our eyes locked, both of us a little dazed and a lot breathless.
He leaned in again to meet my lips, but I pressed him back with one hand to his chest. 
Without giving myself another second, I scrambled from his lap, almost losing my footing in the process. He reached for my hand, but I pulled away, biting my lip, the stinging pain snapping me back to the present.
I pressed a hand to my thumping heart as it all became so real. I had just made out with Hawke Calvin, doing the Humpty Dance on his crotch.
And, now, I was leaving with my clothes on and my integrity intact.
Go me.

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MORE About Torn Between Two

​I believe in fairy tales — the kind where a knight in shining armor sweeps me off my feet. Coming from a broken home, fairy tales housed the hope I clung to. Never in my life did I imagine two knights coming into my life— two knights that wore very different armor.
 
A rockstar versus a lawyer.
Fast and furious versus deliberate and calculated.
Intense and passionate versus strong and devoted.
Chaos versus stability.
 
I fell in love with one in the craziness of a concert.
I fell in love with the other in the silence of his compassion.
 
And now I am Torn Between Two.

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Amazon US
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Coming This February...

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Life is made up of choices. 
Single choices like bricks laid out in a path. A path that leads to your future. 

At twenty four years old, I would have never guessed I would be stuck between two men—two men from opposite spectrums of the universe.
Their lives, their worlds, their demeanor is as different as the darkest of nights and the lightest of days.

I love them both, but I have to choose.
There is only one choice I can make.
And I choose forever.
ADD TO YOUR TBR HERE

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Mia Kayla is a New Adult/Contemporary Romance writer who lives in Illinois.

Most of the time, she can be caught on the train with her nose in a book sporting a cheeky grin because the main characters finally get their happily-ever-after at the end.

She loves reading about happy endings but has more fun writing them.
     Newsletter I Website I Facebook Author Page I Facebook Fan Group I 
                                         Instagram I Twitter I GoodReads Author Page I Amazon Author Page I BookBub I 
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Sneak Peek: Drowning by Marni Mann & Gia Riley

1/18/2017

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Drowning by Marni Mann & Gia Riley is an emotional contemporary romance releasing February 2nd.  
Read a SNEAK PEEK and be sure to add this powerful story to your TBR! 
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She closes her eyes and moves her head back to expose her full neck. Each time I exhale, more goose bumps rise on her skin. Her pulse throbs in her neck, and her hips slowly move under my hands.
I try so goddamn hard to keep my lips off her, but her skin is too gorgeous not to kiss. 
Just a taste, a small taste, I tell myself. 
I place my mouth at the bottom of her throat and smell the heat from her flesh.
“Hurt me,” she moans.
Her words vibrate over my lips, and then I move them a few inches higher where her skin is even hotter. 
“Hurt me.” 
I kiss her harder, traveling all the way up to her ear. I hold her earlobe between my teeth, knowing I’m losing all the control I had. She’s grinding against my dick. It will only take a few more pumps of her hips, and everything she’s wearing will be on the floor.
“Don’t ask for that, Andi.”
“Hurt me, Adrian.”
I cup her cheeks and make her face me, waiting for her eyes to lock with mine, before I say,
​“There’s no turning back from this. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t stop. You’ll be mine.”
“I already am yours, Adrian.” She puts her hands on top of mine. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“You haven’t fully healed yet.”
“No,” she says, responding to my resistance, clamping down on me even tighter. “Don’t you dare take your hands off me. There’s nothing you can do that will break me. I can’t be broken—not anymore and not by you.”
She doesn’t know my strength, my power. She doesn’t know how easy it would be to reinjure her ribs or to press too hard on her lungs or to open one of her wounds. Brooks is what she’s used to, but compared to me, I have a feeling he’s as weak as a jockey. Until a few months ago, I trained and worked out for a living. My body has only bulked on more muscle since I switched to running.
What Andi needs is gentle. Soft. Slow.
I don’t know that I can be any of those things, especially with how badly I want her.
“You’re wrong,” I tell her. “I can hurt you.”
She grabs me by the collar of my shirt. I’ve noticed the hunger in her eyes over the last few days. It’s nothing compared to the way she’s looking at me now. 
“Don’t make me beg. Because I will. And I’ll happily use my—”
I grip her by the back of the head and push her mouth onto mine. Our kiss is hard and deep. Then, I drag my hands through her hair and feel her body collapse into mine. She moans and reaches for the buttons on my shirt. 
I move her hands off me and pull away, kissing each of her fingers. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” she asks. “I can’t wait any longer, Hat Boy. I want to touch it, touch you.”
I laugh. I’ve never seen this side of her. Not the one who wants my dick this badly or the one who is this impatient to get her own way.
I like it. 
Really fucking like it.
But she isn’t going to get my cock yet. Not until I know I won’t hurt her, especially not until I know she can take all of me without having to hold back. Still, there’s no way I’m leaving this kitchen without tasting more of her.
“Maybe I want to hear you beg,” I say, brushing my lips over her ear, taking in her smell. 
Even though I’ve kissed her a few times before today, her smell is still new to me. It’s warm, sugary, like a mix of vanilla and buttercream frosting. 
“Should I be on my knees when I do it?”
That image fills my mind as I run the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip—a lip that will soon be wrapped around my crown. I can almost feel her gloss on my shaft, the warmth of her tongue around my tip, the deepness of her throat. 
Her suction. 
Damn.
“I want you on your knees, baby, but I want something else first,” I say, slipping my hands under her arms and lifting her onto the counter. 
Now that she’s sitting, I pull the tank top over her head and unclasp her bra with my other hand. Her handful-sized tits fall out of the cups, her nipples turning even harder when the air hits them. I leave her skirt and heels on and take a step back, so I can really look at her. 
“Goddamn it, Andi. You’re gorgeous.” 
My gaze slowly drops down her neck, past her breasts, and onto her flat stomach. She has the kind of body that I desire. She isn’t tight and ripped like the swimmers on my old team. She has curves, small places for me to hold and squeeze, soft flesh that I can get lost in.
“Even with all my scars?” 
She looks down, and it’s the first time I feel her insecurity. If I didn’t already throw her shirt and bra on the floor, I bet she’d reach for them to cover up.
“Hey.” I wait for her to look at me before I say, “They make you even more beautiful.” 
Her scars aren’t flaws, and there’s nothing ugly about them. They are her story, her past. They reveal her fight and her courage. They show how stunning she really is.
And each of them has led me to her.
I slide off her skirt and thong and go straight to the scar by her rib, flattening my tongue to lick the whole length of it. Once I cover the thick, rough line, I move over to the mark on her wrist and the one at the side of her breast. Then, I slowly and hungrily eat my way across her hip. I feel her breathing quicken as I get lower, and her hands run through and clench my hair. Her moans vibrate inside her chest, and as I get closer to her navel, she quivers.
“If it’s too much, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop, Adrian. Please. Don’t stop.”
I rise again and drop my mouth onto her nipple, flicking just the tip with my tongue. Her gasp tells me how much she likes it. As I suck it between my lips, she crosses her legs behind me and digs her heels into my ass.
“Oh my God,” she breathes as I switch to my teeth, gently gnawing around it.
I can’t wait anymore. I have to taste her.
I jerk her hips forward and move her to the edge of the counter, my face going between her thighs. She smells even sweeter here. Her skin is warmer. And, as I swipe my tongue across the outside of her lips, I feel her melt.
She’s giving herself to me—her heart, her pussy, all of it.
It’s finally mine.
Just how I want it.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

More about Drowning

​Clay ran from his family, his career. 
From every dream he ever had.
He ran until he crashed.
Andi escaped the screams, the fists.
The pain that knocked her down.
She ran until she was thrown.
Brought together by a world of darkness and deceit, all they have is each other.
Freedom is what they want.
Though it comes with a price.
Because the second they stop running, they'll drown.
ADD TO YOUR TBR HERE
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☆☆☆☆☆☆

Meet Marni Mann 

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​Bestselling author Marni Mann knew she was going to be a writer since middle school. While other girls her age were daydreaming about teenage pop stars, Marni was fantasizing about penning her first novel. She crafts sexy, titillating stories that weave together her love of darkness, mystery, passion, and human emotions. A New Englander at heart, she now lives in Sarasota, Florida, with her husband and their two dogs, who have been characters in her books. When she’s not nose deep in her laptop, working on her next novel, she’s scouring for chocolate, sipping wine, traveling, or devouring fabulous books. 

Meet Gia Riley 

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​Author Gia Riley has been in love with writing romance since high school when she took her very first creative writing class. From the small but mighty state of Delaware, she’s a country girl at heart, traveling back to her roots in Pennsylvania as often as she can. 

She’d rather pick truth than dare, bake than cook, and will always choose coffee over tea.  Just like life, her stories always have a mixture of heart and humor.

You can connect with Gia on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. She also has a reader group, Gia Riley’s Books, on Facebook. Stop by anytime, she loves hearing from readers!
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NEW ROMANTIC COMEDY:  The Bartender by Piper Rayne

1/18/2017

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THE BARTENDER  is an upcoming sexy romantic comedy written by two established, well-known authors who have decided to come together to bring you something sexy and fun with hot heroes and quirky heroines.

Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun? Full of sexy, laugh out loud moments that go well beyond one night between the sheets.  Check out a HOT SNEAK  PEEK!  This is one read you will not want to miss in the new year so be sure to add to your TBR! 
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I take a step into the hallway as heat races up into my neck and face. I must be the color of an overripe tomato right now.
Cole’s jaw is clenched and his forehead is creased. I’m able to really look at him now. He’s clean-shaven this time around and dressed in an expensive-looking charcoal suit with an azure silk tie. He sure as hell cleans up well. In no way does he remind me of the laid-back, working man I met in the bar. Tonight, he oozes sophistication and fits right in with the rest of the country-clubbers circulating the room outside this hallway comparing their bank accounts.
He pushes off the wall he was leaning against and takes a couple of steps toward me, his body rigid and tense.
Lennon, that bitch, doesn’t even stick around to be my wingwoman. Instead she slinks off down the hall back to the party.
“My apologies if the other night wasn’t memorable for you. It makes things difficult when you’re working with a lush.”
So, this is how we’re going to play this? Sure thing. I’ve got years of pent-up anger and resentment toward this man and he doesn’t even know it.
Let’s do this.
“Maybe I felt the need to be intoxicated in order to get through it.”
He gives me such a condescending laugh that I now know beyond all doubt that I must have been very handsy that night. Damn whiskey. “Nice try, sweetheart.” He leans in a little closer to me and I can smell his expensive cologne. “You were begging me for it.”
I let my hands drop and clench them at my sides. “You lied.”
His eyebrows arch up. “Excuse me?”
“You lied.”
The crease in his forehead deepens. “How did I lie?”
“You let me believe that you were just a bartender.”
“Who’s to say I’m not just a bartender?” He clenches that stupid strong jaw of his.
“You’re Cole fucking Webber.”
He closes the few inches between us and the smell of his cologne hits me and I fight not to let my eyes flutter closed. He’s so close that I have to crank my neck back to look at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please. Is this the part where you play the poor, misunderstood rich boy? I’m not buying it.”
“You don’t know shit about me,” he practically growls.
“I know you have zero regard for anyone else’s feelings. You’re used to taking what you want when you want it. You toss people aside when you feel like it and to hell with them.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and uses his thumb and finger to rub the bridge of his nose. “Are you on some kind of medication or something? Because you’re making zero fucking sense.”
Of course, I’m not making any sense. He wouldn’t remember me, but how could I forget him? 
“Had I known who you really were I wouldn’t have let you get within ten feet of me.”
A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth before he leans down and says right into my ear, “Now, now, Whit.” He pronounces the ’t’ at the end of my name extra hard to exaggerate the fact that he’s using my nickname. “We both know it wouldn’t have mattered who I was that night. You were looking for some cock. I was happy to give it to you and you were more than happy to receive it.”
I suck in a startled gasp. “You’re exaggerating,” I say in a breathy voice that does nothing to back up my argument.
He chuckles, the sensation of his breath on my neck and ear causing shivers to race down my arm. Thankfully, he moves back and gives me some room. Unthankfully, his hazel eyes bore into me like lasers and I’m unable to look away. “Not exaggerating, no.” He shakes his head. “What was it you called mine when you grabbed it? Oh, yeah. Unicorn cock. I still don’t understand the reference, but I do know it must mean I have one magical cock.”
I’m going to go ahead and blame Lennon here for even putting unicorns in my head with that stupid van of hers. And Jesus, would he stop saying ‘cock’ already? It’s an aphrodisiac when it comes from his mouth and I’m doing my best to remember that I am no longer allowed to be attracted to this man.
I clench my teeth for a full minute and just stare at him and the shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
Before I can think of a scathing response Chase comes sauntering down the hallway toward the restrooms. “You guys look like you’re in the middle of an intense conversation,” he says.
I turn my gaze away from Cole and look to Chase and smile.
“Whitney was just telling me how fond she is of unicorns,” Cole says with a straight face.
My cheeks burn, but I don’t take the bait.
“Have you seen Lennon’s van lately?” Chase asks me. “You should take a ride in that thing if you’re a fan of unicorns.” He laughs.
“Have you ridden a unicorn before, Whit?” Cole asks. If I weren’t so irritated with the man right now I’d almost call his smile playful, but since I am irritated I’m going to go ahead and describe it as provoking.
With a saccharine smile, I respond. “I think I have. Hard to say really. It must not have been as memorable as you’d expect.”
And with that comment I head off down the hall with an exaggerated sway to my hips, because if I still want Cole Webber after everything he did to me all those years ago, and everything I know about him, I’m going to make doubly sure he feels the same.
Misery does love company, after all.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun?
​
​Was the one night stand a good idea?

Well, no. Probably not in retrospect.

In my defense I had just moved back into my grandparent’s house, I’d lost my dream job, and a guy on Tinder had stood me up. It was like life had suddenly stamped ‘LOSER’ on my forehead.

So when the guy behind the bar started giving me THE look…you know, the one that promised I’d be screaming his name into the wee hours of the morning? When that guy also has the perfect amount of scruff on his chiseled chin, biceps bulging out of his t-shirt, and a cocky grin you knew he’d earned in the sack…when he gives you that look, you don’t bother to figure out what your six degrees of separation are. You jump on that horse and ride it!

Pun fully and completely intended. And accurate by the way.

I fully admit to feeling sorry for myself and acting impulsively, but by the time I’d figured out WHO the bartender was, I was already falling for him.
ADD TO YOUR TBR HERE

☆☆☆☆☆☆

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Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?

We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.

What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.

Connect with Piper:  Newsletter | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram
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NEW RELEASE + GIVEAWAY: Entice Me by J. Kenner!

1/17/2017

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Damien Stark will seduce you in ENTICE ME, the newest addition to the Stark Trilogy by J. Kenner!  
Read  a sensual and provocative SNEAK PEEK where Damien will "negotiate"
his way into your top Book Boyfriend spot!   He is  so very swoon-worthy,  *sigh*

To celebrate this HIGHLY ANTICIPATED  release, The Rock Stars of Romance and J. Kenner would like to offer  ONE LUCKY WINNER an opportunity to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card ! 
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“So we’re negotiating. Excellent. I’m sure I have something you want.” His hand closes gently over my breast, and I arch up, gasping from the impact of a sudden, hard flash of desire. 
“Damien.”
His brow rises infinitesimally. “See? I’m confident we’ll be able to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”
His thumb grazes my lower lip, and I close my eyes, drawing it in, reveling in the sound of pleasure he makes low in his throat and the erection I feel growing where the back of my head is in his lap. 
“I could just roll over,” I say, doing exactly that, so that my ear is on his thigh and I’m facing the button on his jeans. 
I lift my hand and press lightly over the length of his erection straining against the denim right in front of me. “Think how much faster the rest of the drive would be.” 
“Nikki.” There’s a tightness in his voice. Almost a warning. But I don’t heed it. Frankly, I don’t think he wants me to. Slowly, I stroke my hand up the length of him, a wild knot of heated need growing inside me, spreading wilder and faster as I feel him harden beneath my hand. As I hear the shift in his breathing. The catch in his throat when my hand reaches the base of his cock and then rises to the button of his jeans.
“Christ.”
That’s all he says, and I turn my head just enough so that I can see the desire in his eyes. A wild lust. A wanton need that matches my own. There’s never a moment when I don’t crave this man, but right now--after a day in the sun with the alcohol still warming my blood--I think that I will die if I can’t touch him. Can’t taste him.
And with every second that passes--with every tiny shift in his posture, every shortened breath, every tightening of his muscles as he fights for control--I know that I am winning. And that rush of power that courses through me is as potent as wine and as powerful as the most magical aphrodisiac.
It takes some doing, but I manage the button with one hand. The zipper is trickier, and I try to hurry because Damien has lifted his hand, and I’m afraid that if I don’t manage, Damien will do it himself, and this is something that I want. Wholly and completely.
But it’s not his fly that Damien is reaching for, it’s my leg. And as I lower his zipper, his hand slides slowly up my leg, slipping under the hem of my skirt so his palm rubs my bare skin.
I shiver as I ease his zipper down, then slide my hand in and stroke his cock though his briefs. He’s so damn hard, and I slowly ease the fly open to free him. His erection springs free, and I move forward just enough so that I can run the tip of my tongue lightly over the head as his hand squeezes my thigh tighter and tighter.
“Nikki, fuck, baby, that feels amazing.”
I allow myself a smug smile before I move forward even more and tease the tip of my tongue along the underside of his cock, all the way from balls to tip. 
As I do, his free hand slides up the back of my neck and I feel the pressure of his thumb as I slowly draw in his cock, deeper and deeper until I feel it in he back of my throat. Until his hips start to shift under me in a subtle demand that I suck him hard, deeper.
His fingers slide further up my leg, then slip under my panties. “Spread your legs,” he orders, his voice like heated sandpaper. I try, but it’s not easy in my awkward, sideways position. It’s enough, though, and soon his fingers are stroking me. I’m wet and slick, and I shift position, pressing against his hand, wanting more and more--and then gasping when he thrusts his fingers deep inside me, mimicking the way I’m taking his cock in my mouth. 
He finger fucks me hard and deep, and I shamelessly ride his hand, my own mouth working the same rhythm on his cock as a wild, wanton pressure builds inside me.
I’m close--I’m so damn close. And my muscles tighten around him, drawing him in even as every cell in my body races closer and closer to release.
And then he withdraws, shocking me with the sudden cessation. I pull my head back, releasing his cock as I cry out in protest.
“On me,” he orders as I struggle to catch my breath and swallow my protests. “I want to feel you shatter around me. I want to look in your eyes while you come. And I want to explode deep inside you.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

ABOUT THIS BOOK
​
​From New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner comes a sensually seductive novella starring fan favorites Damien Stark and his wife, Nikki Fairchild.

Includes a special preview of Anchor Me, the highly anticipated fourth full-length novel featuring Nikki & Damien as they begin the next chapter in their life together.

I didn’t understand passion until I met Damien, the man who turned my world upside down and swept me off my feet.

And though our life together feels perfect, we can’t escape our secrets--and the danger that continually threatens to surface.

But for one night, I seek a respite. A birthday wish for my husband, my lover, my friend—one absolutely perfect night.

It is my most ardent wish.

And I only hope that it will come true…

NOW AVAILABLE!

Amazon US
Amazon UK
iBooks
Nook
Kobo
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☆☆☆☆☆☆

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J.Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
​
Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy,  and paranormal mommy lit.
JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A five time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy). Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development with AwesomenessTV/Awestruck.
​
Her books have sold over three million  copies and are published in over twenty languages.
In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas.  She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.

WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | YouTube | Amazon Author Page
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CHAPTER REVEAL:  Fidelity by Aleatha Romig

1/13/2017

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Fidelity, the EPIC CONCLUSION to the Infidelity Series by Aleatha Romig releases January 17th!  
Read Chapter Two of this dramatic finale. 
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Nox

The impact transcended my fist, sending shockwaves throughout my body. The crunch of breaking bones became music to my ears and the scent of blood a delicacy to my nose. One solid punch to the man's cheek was all it took. Unlike the anxiety brought on by the tranquil sounds of the Georgia estate, the brutal connection focused my attention, taking me back to the octagon, to the combination of exertion and satisfaction. With one clean hit, adrenaline flooded my bloodstream and the guard dropped to the hard Georgia clay.
Flexing my fingers, I took a step back and surveyed his limp body. Damn. He fell too fast, too easy. Every nerve within me craved more.
From the moment I received news that Charli had gotten into that damn limousine with her stepfather, I'd wanted to hit. My fists itched with the need to collide with something—with anything. I'd longed to hear the whoosh of air as it was expelled forcibly from someone's lungs and sense the impact as bone met bone, and even to witness the spray of blood as a nose broke.
That euphoria brought on while watching someone fall to their knees, as their muscles lost tension and their brain chose to sleep, was second only to the best and most satisfying orgasm. Both were powerful drugs to my system. I could do without them—abstain—but once the high was within my grasp, like an addict I needed more.
My head whipped from side to side as I sought out another victim. Through the low-lying fog, only stripped stalks of tobacco were visible in one direction and clusters of trees in the other. Assuring the guard's unconsciousness, I kicked his side with the tip of my shoe, the dust upon the leather left a mark on his dark jacket, the one with the Montague emblem. He didn't flinch or even groan as I reached down and moved his battered face from side to side. Two fingers to his neck confirmed his pulse was strong. It was then as I leaned down that I heard a soft static-filled plea coming from his ear.
Reaching inside his pocket, I pulled out the transmitter and then removed the Bluetooth device from his ear. Holding it near, I listened as the plea came again.
"Stan! Stan! Can you hear me? Did you see someone?"
I cleared my throat and spoke, elongating my words with a hint of a Southern accent. "No. Damn fog. All's clear."
Holding my breath, I waited for a response, praying that I hadn't fucking blown my chance to free Charli from the manor. I glanced up toward the house. From the low land of the field it was a blur of warm yellows and cool blues. The strange combination created an impressionistic masterpiece that I didn't have time to interpret. All that mattered was that the manor was within reach.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

ABOUT THIS BOOK 

She thought she could save those she loved.
He thought he could save her.
They'll both learn the truth.

FIDELITY, the dramatic conclusion to the epic five novel series INFIDELITY, following Lennox "Nox" Demetri, Alexandria "Charli" Collins, the Montagues, Demetris, Fitzgeralds, and Spencers is finally here.

When the vows are complete and the dust settles, who will be left standing?

No one is safe, and no alliance is above suspicion in the much-anticipated finale to this hot romantic-suspense saga. Our heroine has survived betrayal, cunning, deception, and entrapment…what will happen when she’s faced with fidelity?

Infidelity, it isn't what you think.

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Aleatha Romig comes a sexy, new dominant hero who knows what he wants and a strong-willed heroine who has plans of her own. With classic twists, turns, deceptions, and devotions, this new, epic romantic suspense will have readers swooning one minute and screaming the next..

Have you been Aleatha'd?

FIDELITY is the fifth and FINAL of five full-length novels in the INFIDELITY series. 

*This series does not condone nor does it advocate cheating.

Pre-order Fidelity for a January 17th release!   

Amazon US
Amazon UK
iBooks
Nook
Kobo

The Infidelity Series
(click on picture for buy links)

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Aleatha Romig is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Indiana. She grew up in Mishawaka, graduated from Indiana University, and is currently living south of Indianapolis. Aleatha has raised three children with her high school sweetheart and husband of nearly thirty years. Before she became a full-time author, she worked days as a dental hygienist and spent her nights writing. Now, when she's not imagining mind-blowing twists and turns, she likes to spend her time a with her family and friends. Her other pastimes include reading and creating heroes/anti-heroes who haunt your dreams!
Aleatha released her first novel, CONSEQUENCES, in August of 2011. CONSEQUENCES became a bestselling series with five novels and two companions released from 2011 through 2015. The compelling and epic story of Anthony and Claire Rawlings has graced more than half a million e-readers. Aleatha released the first of her series TALES FROM THE DARK SIDE, INSIDIOUS, in the fall of 2014. These stand alone thrillers continue Aleatha's twisted style with an increase in heat.
In the fall of 2015, Aleatha moved head first into the world of dark romantic suspense with the release of BETRAYAL, the first of her five novel INFIDELITY series that has taken the reading world by storm. She also began her traditional publishing career with Thomas and Mercer. Her books INTO THE LIGHT and AWAY FROM THE DARK were published through this mystery/thriller publisher in 2016.
Aleatha is a "Published Author's Network" member of the Romance Writers of America and represented by Danielle Egan-Miller of Browne & Miller Literary Associates.
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EXCLUSIVE + WIN AN ARC of Taking Care of the Target by Cindi Madsen

1/13/2017

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Cindi Madsen will suck you in and keep you turning the page in her upcoming Romantic Suspense novel, TAKING CARE OF THE TARGET releasing January 23rd!   Meet Vince and Cassie in a SNEAK PEEK and ENTER to be ONE OF FIVE LUCKY WINNERS to receive an ADVANCED READ COPY of this highly anticipated release!   
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“Sit,” she commanded, and Vince sat on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes tracked her every movement, and her breaths came out shaky. She extended him a water bottle and one of her pain pills.
    One dark eyebrow quirked up. “Trying to knock me out?”
    “Yes. I plan on taking advantage of you later. Now take it.”
    His chest rose and fell in a hypnotic rhythm, and then he tossed back the pill. They’d made her a bit loopy, but since he weighed quite a bit more, they probably wouldn’t affect him as strongly. Hopefully they’d take away the pain he was pretending not to be feeling.
    Cassie spread the medical supplies on the southwestern motif bedspread. “I hope you like it rough, because this is probably going to hurt.”
    Vince reached up and wrapped his hands around her hips, his fingers digging in and setting the skin underneath ablaze, despite the layers of fabric. “Keep talking like that and we’ll never get to the bandaging part.”
    With a hand to his chest, Cassie pushed him back until he was flat on the bed. “How deep did it go?”
    “I didn’t measure it,” he said, and the smartass remark made her feel a little less bad about pouring hydrogen peroxide over the gash; she figured it’d at least sting less than alcohol. He let out a harsh exhale. “I think it went more up instead of deep, so it’s just a shallow cut. I keep telling you to stop worrying about it.”
    She scowled, ready to argue that it was a freaking knife wound, for goodness sake, but then he sat halfway up and cupped her cheek. “But I like that you do.”
    Allowing herself a quick moment, she closed her eyes and soaked in the comforting warmth of his hand. Then she eased him back down. Once the bubbling from the peroxide subsided, she leaned closer to study the cut. It was a couple of inches wide and gaping a bit, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore, so she took that as a good sign. She used two butterfly bandages to close it together, put gauze over the whole thing, and taped it in place.
    “Good as new,” he said, sitting up and propping himself on his palms. Their eyes met and held. Then, one slow inch at a time, Vince leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was more reserved than the ones they usually shared, more like a tentative kiss to check where they stood.
    In answer, she parted her lips and deepened the kiss. He slid his tongue in to meet hers, every stroke sending another wave of heat crashing through her. He tugged her down so that she straddled him, her ripped skirt bunching around her hips and exposing most of her legs. She sank farther onto him, letting loose a moan when his hardness met her center, the thin material of their underwear hardly a barrier, and yet it still felt like too much of one.
    Vince slid his hands up her thighs. “I wanted you from day one. I told myself even if I couldn’t tell you everything, until I had the balls to tell you who I really was, I couldn’t have sex with you. I’d resigned myself to the fact that it was never going to happen. That I’d have to let you go.”
    Cassie reached up and gripped the handle of the zipper that ran down the side of her dress. “Well, now I know everything…” She tugged down the zipper, and Vince’s eyes tracked the movement, darkening even more. “Including who you are.”
    “And you still want to be with me?”
    She peered into his eyes, and desire flooded her system. It was an urgent physical need, but it was deeper than that, too. This wasn’t fake intimacy or just the need to not be alone. Despite everything, she loved him. And the way he looked back at her said he truly loved her, too.
    She ran her hand down his chest, rested it over his rapidly beating heart, and nodded. Just as she was about to push him back on the bed so she could have her way with him, she remembered his injury. “But if you’re too hurt to have sex tonight, then we can wa—”
    In one fluid movement, he rolled her to her back and kissed her long and hard. “No more waiting. I’m sorry I never said anything about your dress before, either, because damn.” He skimmed his hand across the top of it, the drag of his rough fingertips sending goose bumps across her skin. “I feel like I’m unwrapping a present.”
    He tugged the zipper the last few inches and peeled the pink fabric down around her waist, exposing her black strapless bra and most of her torso.
    The soft touch of his lips on her neck made her breath catch in her throat. He kissed his way down, across her collarbone, to the swell of her breast.
    Dizzying sensations raced up and down her body, each one screaming for more attention. Vince’s warm mouth came down on the lace covering her nipple, the sensation of the rough fabric and his circling tongue leaving her panting.
    With a quick flick of his wrist, her bra slid free. Then he moved to the other breast. A jolt shot down her core, and she closed her eyes, soaking in every exquisite sensation. She arched against him, rolling her hips against his erection, and he hissed out a sharp breath.
    “I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he said, his voice husky. “You, me. Just like this.” He ran his hands over her as if he was memorizing every inch, and then he slid her dress down her legs and tossed it aside.
    He hooked a finger in the string of her underwear, tracing all the way around to the back, and gripped her butt. “Damn, baby, if I’d known you were going around wearing thongs, I never would’ve lasted this long.”
    “Well, I planned on seducing you tonight.”    
    He grinned and then his lips hit her skin again, right below her bellybutton, a hot exhale of breath followed by the soft press of his lips and delicious scrape of his whiskers.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Vince DaMarco always liked Cassie, the shy waitress who works at the restaurant that serves as a front for his mob boss uncle. Unfortunately, she witnesses a back alley hit, and while fleeing, she’s struck by a truck. Now she’s at the top of the hit list. Desperate to stop anyone who’d draw out Cassie’s death, Vince volunteers to take care of it.
 
Cassie Dalton has no recollection of her accident, but she’s told she’s lucky to be alive. A few years are missing from her memory, and the unsettling feeling that something isn’t right—along with the creepy sensation that she’s being watched—won’t go away. 
 
Vince shows up right when Cassie needs him most. In a world of confusion, the rugged stranger is the one thing that makes sense. But little does she know, she’s found refuge in the arms of the very man who’s been sent to kill her. 
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Add to your TBR

☆☆☆☆☆☆

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Cindi Madsen is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance and young adult novels. She sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting revising, and falling in love with her characters. Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she’d be even crazier. She has way too many shoes, but can always find a reason to buy a new pretty pair, especially if they’re sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music, dancing, and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband and three children. 
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NEW RELEASE + SPICY EXCERPT + GIVEAWAY: Offensive Rebound by MJ Fields

1/12/2017

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The Season starts with MJ Fields' upcoming Sports Romance.  Offensive Rebound  is NOW LIVE!  
Read a SPICY EXCERPT, download your copy & ENTER TO WIN a SIGNED COPY + AMAZON GIFT CARD! 
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“You still afraid of me?” Courtney asks. I push her hair out of her face. “No.” “I’m afraid of you.” “No beer muscles tonight?” I ask, glancing at her empty glasses. She shakes her head. I scoot in closer to her. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.” “Liking you too much,” she says then takes a drink. I turn her in her seat so she’s facing me. “You’re gonna like me even more when I’m inside you.” Her body grows taut. “You can’t say stuff like that. It makes me uncomfortable.” “Well, now I’m going to have to do it more often to get you used to it; make you crave it, beg for it.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Courtney Cohen
When my father died I inherited the Bad News Bears of the NBA, the Seattle Stallions. To add insult to injury my ex-fiancé, Brock was the team's star point guard.

The only reason I haven't jumped ship yet is because prior to my father, Charlie Cohen, dying I learned he recruited a baller who was going to make the Seattle Stallions "road to hell" a lot more interesting.

Trae Rhodes
When Charlie Cohen called me and asked to return to the game, I thought he had lost his mind. He wanted me to come and play for his 'Little Pony's', there was no way in hell that would happen. But when he sends me the team roster and salaries followed by an offer that was more than his star point guards, I knew there was something foul about his play. 

There is nothing I liked more than a foul play that involved Brock fucking Boeheim, so I accepted his advance and gave him a promise I would be there in the fall when training started. Brock and I have history, a score to settle. 

In the last two months I have done three things, fuck, get my head back in the game I love and come up with a way to get revenge on the person who took it all away to begin with, Brock.
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USA Today bestselling author MJ Fields love of writing was in full swing by age eight.  
Together with her cousins, she wrote a newsletter and sold it for ten cents to family members.
She self-published her first contemporary, new adult romance in January 2013. Today she has completed seven self-published series, The Love series, The Wrapped series, The Burning Souls series, The Men of Steel series, Ties of Steel series, The Rockers of Steel series and The Norfolk series.
MJ is a hybrid author and publishes an Indie book almost every month, and is signed with a traditional publisher, Loveswept, Penguin Random House, for her co- written series The Caldwell Brothers. Hendrix, Morrison, and Jagger. All three books in the series are published. The Caldwell brothers don’t grow into alphas, when their mother passes away they become her legacy, her good in the world of bad.
MJ was a former small business owner, who closed shop so she could write full time. She lives in central New York, surrounded by family and friends. Her house is full of pets, friends, and noise ninety percent of the time, and she would have it no other way.
Stalk Her:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest | Goodreads 
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NEW ROMANTIC COMEDY from RC Boldt:  Clam Jam 

1/10/2017

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 We love this unique twist on the traditional Romantic Comedy in this new release by R.C. Boldt.  Are you ready to get Clam Jammed?   Read an EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT OF CLAM JAM & DOWNLOAD YOUR COPY
​& Enter to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card!
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 Maggie
One year ago-ish

October
Saratoga Springs, New York
Holy shadoobie. This guy is hot.
No, scratch that. He’s the kind of hot teenage girls spell out as H-A-W-T. He’s that kind of hot. And he’s applying to be my roommate, which means only one thing.
I have to send him packing.
There’s no way in h-e-double hockey sticks I’ll be able to maintain any self-control around a guy like this. I mean come on, people. It’s like the moment you decide to diet, and you catch a whiff of pizza or walk past a bakery when they’re putting new pastries in the display case.
Temtorture at its finest. I know, I know. I made that word up—a mix of the word temptation and torture. It’s accurate, though, isn’t it? You know you shouldn’t have it because it’s so bad for you, but you know once it touches your tongue, it will be so gooooood.
Wow. That sounded more sexual than I expected. Because I wasn’t exactly thinking of having this guy’s anything touching my tongue. But now, the seed has been planted, so …
“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”
Ryland’s voice brings me back from my not-so-G-rated thoughts. I am a terrible, horrible, no-good person, just like that Alexander kid in those children’s books they turned into a movie. I nod, trying my best not to let his lips mesmerize me because, whoa, they’re so nice and full and soft looking. And his hair makes me want to run my fingers through the short, light brownish-blond strands.
Sigh. Long, long sigh. There I go again.
“I admit”—he leans in, and I find the sparkle in his eyes captivating—“I was grateful you chose to meet in this spot since my company’s offices are right above here. I had a few things to take care of this morning. And the fact that your apartment building is within walking distance is another plus.”
Flattening my palms against the small table as we sit across from one another in Starbucks, I let out a slow exhale. Because it has to be said.
“I have to be honest with you, Ryland. You have great references.” I gesture to his résumé and list of references, both work and personal, he submitted to me when he’d contacted me about the room for rent a few days ago.
After printing off a sheet with some key information about the room for rent as well as photos of the spare bedroom, I’d posted it on the corkboard located in the lobbies of a few of the large, well-known office buildings—both mine and a few others I was familiar with nearby. I had hoped that would decrease my chances of ending up with some college kid who would end up being a slob and skip out on rent. I had a few decent applicants, but Ryland James had stuck out amidst the others.
He’s not only educated but also quite successful, as was clear from both his résumé and company’s website. He’d explained he had been renting a room, but the guy had recently gotten married, and he didn’t want to cramp the newlyweds’ style, so he’d been temporarily staying with another friend. Ryland wasn’t interested in buying anything—house or condo—at this point as he wasn’t entirely sure his job would keep him local and didn’t want the hassle of trying to sell a property or rent it out if he relocated.
Everything had checked out with him. Everything. He seemed like he had his act together. And his photo from the Eastern Sports company website didn’t disappoint. Which was why I had been planning to nix him altogether. He was exactly what I didn’t need right now. So why am I here, meeting with him face to face?
Sarah. She’d coerced me to meet with him. She went over each applicant’s information with me, and she kept coming back to Ryland’s. She’d hassled me about giving him a shot.
Inhaling deeply, I continue, “But I have to be honest with you. I’ve recently broken up with my dirtbag fiancé”—I break off with what I hope is a lighthearted laugh, but I swear it comes out sounding strained and a touch maniacal—“and I’m not interested in having a roommate who’s a guy and—”
“I’m gay.”
I jerk, startled by his interrupting admission. And if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I detected a little hint of surprise in his eyes.
My eyebrows arch. “Really?” Shoot. That’s rude because even I hear the tinge of disbelieving doubt in my voice.
“Yes.” He nods, clasping his hands together and leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “Jack and I have been together for years now.” One of his hands reaches up to tug on his earlobe. “We still have a bit of an”—he pauses, lips pressing thin as though he’s trying to word it correctly—“open relationship, and I feel it’s best … to have a separate place and not be continuously underfoot.”
Huhhhhh. I’m still processing this information when he continues.
“So”—he flashes a smile that makes my insides all gooey—“you wouldn’t have anything to worry about with me.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, “but what about guests and sleepovers? Because I’m not a huge fan of having to listen to moaning and—”
“Not a problem.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I can totally stay at Jack’s place. He doesn’t have a roommate. It’s no big deal.” He flashes me another smile, and I feel my ovaries weep his name.
It’s a good thing he’s gay. Otherwise, let’s be real. I’d likely end up being that roommate who accidentally-on-purpose “sleepwalks” into his bedroom—naked—and has sex with him.
Holy crap. Did I really just think that? Bad, Maggie. Baaaad, Maggie.
Glancing over his paperwork, I say, “If you don’t mind, I have a few other applicants to interview.” Lies. I’m totally stalling. Raising my eyes, I find him watching me expectantly; that gaze centered on me in such a way that I feel like I’m the only person who exists right now. “But, tentatively, I’d like to offer you the room for rent.”
If I thought Ryland’s smile was ovary-lurch inducing before, this one trumps that. Big time. It’s blindingly bright and infectious, and I can’t help but return it. We sit there for a moment before he clears his throat, and I remember what else I have to tell him.
“So, as I mentioned earlier, the utilities normally run this much per month.” I use my capped pen to point at the sheet I had printed, which includes all the pertinent financial information. “We’ll split it fifty-fifty. Rent is due on the first of the month, and a late fee will be imposed if it isn’t in by the fifth day.” I recap a few other details and ask him if he’d like to look at the room.
He agrees, and when we stand, pushing in our chairs, he helps me slip into my coat once I pluck it from where I’d draped it over the back of my chair.
I repeat: Ryland took it upon himself to help me put on my coat.
I know, right? He has to be gay. Because no normal guy would take the initiative to do that for a woman. Especially not in this day and age.
Exiting the busy Starbucks, we fall in step along the crowded sidewalk full of the usual Saturday foot traffic as I lead him to my apartment building. He rushes up to beat me to the large, heavy doors to the building, reaching out to hold it open for me. Flashing him a smile, I thank him.
Such a gentleman, this one. Jack is one hell of a lucky guy.
“Hey, Mr. Charlie!” I smile, greeting our lead building attendant. He’s become like an adopted father to both Sarah and me. He’s sweet as pie and always watches out for us.
“Have to use your handcuffs on anyone recently, Chad?” I can’t resist teasing our security guard since an older woman on the second floor flirts with him shamelessly. It wouldn’t be as funny if she weren’t pushing ninety. I never knew women that age could still be hoochie mamas.
I introduce Ryland to them, and Chad steps around the desk where he was chatting with Mr. Charlie and walks with us to the elevators. I had already asked him if he’d be willing to accompany us up to my apartment in case I chose to show it to Ryland.
Chad waits in the hallway while I show Ryland around. After a quick peek in the spare bathroom, I lead him to the spare bedroom.
“Obviously, I still have a few more things to move out of here since it’s been used as storage more than an actual bedroom. But no worries, it’ll be cleaned out and ready to roll.” I gesture to a few small boxes I’ve yet to toss out—mainly mementos of my relationship with Shane—one, in particular, is a box of photographs of Shane and me from over the years. I’ve been putting off getting rid of it, which is dumb because it’s over and I know it. But those photos of us—especially the ones from early in our relationship—show us so happy and in love. It’s painful to think about throwing those away.
“Looks good.” Ryland’s deep voice behind me sends shivers down my spine.
“Well”—I turn, facing him—“that’s it.” I reach out a hand. “It was great meeting you, Ryland. I’ll definitely be in touch.”
When he slides his hand in mine, grasping it firmly but not too tight, I feel tingles. “Call me Ry,” he offers with a soft smile.
“Ry,” I repeat and inwardly wince when it comes out sounding a bit breathless. “It was great to meet you.”
“Likewise, Maggie.”
He turns to leave, exchanging a quick good-bye with Chad at the door before I quietly lock up behind them. Leaning my back against the door, I let my eyes fall closed.
God just gave me an olive branch of sorts. A way to ease my financial situation a bit and eliminate any possibility of being tempted by a guy—just like I’d planned. No fear of getting involved with my male roommate because he’s not into women. I should be relieved.
I am relieved.
Maybe if I keep repeating that, I’ll start believing it.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

ABOUT Clam Jam
​
“Clam Jam”
Definition: the female equivalent of a cock block.
Example: You’re chatting with a guy you’re interested in and your friend comes along and lays claim to him. 

Maggie
That’s my life—except it’s worse. My friend who keeps “jamming” me is my gay roommate and if that isn’t a W.T.F. moment, I’m not sure what is.

Fact: He went home with three—yes, three—of the guys I had been so sure were into me.
Fact: He’s really pissing me off. I mean, hello? I’m trying to get back in the saddle, but I’ll never manage to get a boyfriend before the age of fifty if he keeps this up.
Fact: Secretly, I wonder what it would be like if he weren’t gay. Why do all the hot, sweet, tender-hearted guys have to be gay?
Fact: My gay-dar needs a serious tune-up.

Ry
The day I interviewed for the room to rent, everything changed. I knew I had met “the girl”, except there was one small problem: she didn’t want anything to do with men. I recognized a top-notch force field when I saw one. She’d been burned badly and didn’t want to deal with a heterosexual guy as a roommate. I could’ve turned around and found another place to live, but I wanted to live there—with her.

So I had to go “undercover”. 

Fact: I’m in love with my roommate.
Fact: I’m a likely candidate for carpal tunnel surgery since all the action I’ve had for the past year has been my hand.
Fact: She’s going to hate me if I come clean now.
Fact: I’m not giving up. Which means, I’ll just have to continue to run defense until I figure out a way to get Maggie to see the “real” me. 

The me that loves her.

The me that would never do her wrong.

Until then, I’ll keep running off every guy who shows any interest. 

Until then, I’ll continue to Clam Jam.

GRAB YOUR COPY TODAY! 

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I'm a lover of romance, humor, and sexy times—the three ingredients I try to include in all of my books—as well as my family, wine and 80's music.
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