Daily Archives: 24/02/2016

COVER REVEAL ~ Reckless Temptations by Janine Infante Bosco

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RECKLESS TEMPTATIONS

Tempted #4
by: Janine Infante Bosco

Publication Date: March 8, 2016
Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance
Purchase: Coming Soon

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Synopsis:

RIGGS

Heart.
It’s what keeps you from being reckless. It’s what keeps you breathing.
Money, power and respect… they were my god given right, not the reason I joined the Satan’s Knights. I tied myself to my club and nothing else. Give me my bike, the open road and a different woman every night and I was happy.
My life was great.
Until the chaos exploded.
One night.
One reckless temptation and I finally found my reason for breathing.
I never saw her coming. The girl that would turn my world upside down and give me my heart.
Only it was too late.
One mistake can take it all away.
I’m about to lose my heart.
The thing that keeps me breathing.
The thing that keeps me from being reckless.

LAUREN BIANCI

Drop out of nursing school? Check.
Have no idea what you’re going to do with your life? Check.
Disappoint your family? Double check.
Meet a biker and have crazy sex against a wall? Check. Check. Check.
Get knocked up by said biker? Check.
I was always the good girl, the prodigal child, the girl who said and did all the right things.
Things like this didn’t happen to me.
Until him.
Until he smiled.
Until he tempted me to find out what made me happy.
Too bad it’s him.
We’ll never work, but, I can pretend can’t I?
Just for a little while.
Just until it’s over.


 

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EXCERPT

The Pink Pussycat

More Bianci bullshit was headed my way.

“Maria thinks Lauren is an intern at a hospital, a requirement for her nursing degree. The is, she kind of quit the program,” Mia continued.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Mama Leone” was going to blow a gasket.

“So if she’s not playing Florence Nightingale, where is she?” I questioned.

Silence.

Fuck my life. I stalked toward Mia, watching as she raised an eyebrow and walked backwards until her back slammed against the door.

“Ouch,” she muttered.

I narrowed my eyes, bracing one hand flat against the door over her head and leaned close to her.

“Where is she?” I repeated.

“She’s working at a bar in town, near campus,” she said, stepping around me to walk toward her desk. She ripped a piece of paper off a pad and scribbling something on it. “Here’s the address. She’s not answering the phone so you need to go get her before Maria starts asking questions.”

“You’re kidding right?” Does the leather and tattoos not scare anyone anymore these days? These people are walking all over me like I’m some kind of jerk off.

“I don’t even know what she looks like,” I grunted, staring down at the scribbled address, wondering what kind of bar the Pink Pussycat was and what the fuck I did in life to deserve this shit.

Mia looked at me for a moment before turning around and grabbing a picture frame off her dresser. She held up the framed photo of her and what I assumed was Lauren. I dropped my eyes to the picture of the two girls, my eyes zeroing in on Lauren.

Big crystal blue eyes, framed by thick black-rimmed glasses, stared back at me. She had a killer smile, perfectly straight, white teeth, framed by full pink lips and a cute tongue since she was sticking it out the side of her mouth. Her black hair framed her face in waves, a stark contrast to her bright blue eyes. She was pretty, hot even, if you’re into the girl next door type. Or nurses. I wouldn’t mind being her patient.

I lifted my eyes back to Mia’s and handed her back her photograph before turning around and pulling open the door.

“Are you going to go get her?” Mia called over my shoulder. I ignored her and brushed past Maria who was scowling at me from the bathroom door.

“Got lost on your way to the john?” She asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

“No, when you wouldn’t hold my dick for me I thought I’d test my luck with your daughter’s roommate,” I smiled, glancing over my shoulder at Mia. “Thanks, babe,” I winked.

“What? No! I didn’t…” Mia stammered.

These Bianci people were a pain in my ass but they sure were fun to fuck with.

I turned around and shoved my finger in front of Maria’s nose.

“I’ll be back. Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

“Where are you going?”

“To pick up your damn daughter, because someone upstairs…” I pointed my index finger to the ceiling, “…wants to keep fucking testing my patience with you people.”

It was her turn to shove her accusing finger in my face.

“You’re going to the hospital to pick her up? Just…don’t talk to anyone. I’m warning you, you better behave yourself and not embarrass her. Lauren has worked very hard to get where she is and the last thing she needs is some scoundrel like you, messing things up for her with your crude mouth and poor manners,” she said.

Was this bitch serious?

“I’ll try not to piss on the floors of the hospital and promise not to pick my nose in front of any hotshot doctors,” I sneered, shaking my head in disgust.

She should only know how deep my manners go.

I stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me and glanced at the address Mia had given me. Fucking bullshit.

I typed the address into the GPS of the cage I was driving because I was in the middle of Bumblefuck New York, full of winding roads and fucking deer. I was waiting for that to happen next because why not add killing Bambi to this wretched night.

I whimpered as I drove, feeling sorry for myself and slammed my hand against the steering wheel.

I just wanted my bike and the open road.

And maybe a blowjob.

That would be nice.

Lauren’s pretty, pink lips, wrapped nice and tight around my dick and those blue eyes peeking up at me over the frames of her glasses. Shit. Where the fuck did that come from?

Get your shit together, Riggs.

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the GPS alerted, and I’m not going to lie, she sounded hot too.

I needed to get laid.

Or I needed to go to bed.

Something. Anything.

The Pink Pussycat was packed, people stood in line waiting to get inside even at three a.m., apparently making it a happening joint for the people of Bumblefuck. I moved to the front of the line and a big brut of a guy stood there, staring down at me.

“Line’s back there,” the beast said.

“That’s nice, move aside,” I replied, stepping around him but he took mimicked my move and blocked me again.

I glanced at the heavens.

“Why?” I shouted into the dark sky.

No one answered.

Pussy.

Shit, I was probably going to hell for that one.

I looked back at the beast of a bouncer who raised an eyebrow at me, and was tempted to tell him he looked like Michael Clarke Duncan, but I needed to focus. I took a deep breath and opened my cut for him to see the gun I had tucked into my waistband.

“Listen, bud, I’ve had the night from hell and I’m ten seconds away from losing it, so move the fuck out of my way and let me do what the fuck I came here to do,” I growled, reaching for the gun.

He crossed his arms, glanced at my gun, and shook his head completely unfazed.

“Pretty please, with sugar on top?” I tried. Nothing. “Fuck! The name “Tony Soprano” mean anything to you? Shit, I mean, fuck, what’s his name…Pastore.” the burley bouncer remained unmoved. That’s it. I can’t take anymore. “Bro, get the fuck out of my way, seriously, I have to get one of the girls that works here, I’m her ride.”

“Who?”

“Lauren Bianci,” I huffed. That fucking last name was nothing but trouble.

“Shit, man, why didn’t you say so?” He pounded me on the back and smiled. “Lauren’s my girl, love that chick, always makes me smile,” he said, with an actual smile. “Go on in. She’s working the bar tonight.”

I think I muttered a thank you, I’m not sure, but I brushed past him and stepped foot into the loud bar that was packed beyond capacity. It took me five minutes, pushing my way through the crowd toward the bar that was surrounded mostly by men that were hooting and hollering.

What was the big fuss?

I squeezed my way between two jocks screaming for their turn to be next and caught a glimpse of what had every guy in this joint begging to be next.

The girl next door was on her knees, crawling the length of the bar, from one lucky bastard to another. She poured the liquor straight from the bottle into some lucky bastard’s mouth.

“Marry me!” He shouted, and she threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh baby, I’m not the marrying kind,” she said, blowing him a kiss before she rose to her feet and gave me a full view of her outfit. I started with the shoes that stomped across the bar, fucking sexy as hell. I’d make her keep them on when she wrapped her legs around me and wouldn’t even mind those five-inch heels digging into my back. She was a tiny thing, maybe five foot two, if that, but those heels made her killer legs seem so long. Or maybe it was the short plaid skirt that gave every man at the bar a peep show. Her waist was tiny and her stomach flat, but her rack? Man, what I wouldn’t do to shove my face in her tits. Her shirt knotted under her breasts and was open for all to see the black lace bra she was wearing. I squinted, hoping to catch a little peak of her nips but she was moving all over the place, dancing up a storm as she flirted and poured liquor into all the open mouths, waiting for a taste.

Lauren Bianci, the girl next door, rocked the naughty, school girl bit like no one’s business.

“What’s the matter handsome? Why so serious?” She asked. Her big blue eyes, framed by those damn glasses, staring straight into mine. Every fucking thing went south, whatever common sense I had left, all my blood, it all went straight to my dick. She smiled wide, bending down and pulled my hat from my head before she ran her fingers through my messy hair and yanked my head back. “Open up,” she demanded against my ear.

I looked into those eyes and was fucking lost. She could’ve demanded I run around the bar naked, barking like a dog and I would’ve done it. So I opened my mouth and let her pour the cinnamon flavored whiskey down my throat.

My dick was rock-fucking-hard.

Down boy!

She pulled the bottle away and swiped her thumb across my lips.

“Good boy,” she cheered, as she was about to turn her attention to the man beside me but I grabbed her wrist. Something changed in her eyes and she glanced around the bar, my guess in search of a bouncer. She probably thought I was just another schmuck that wanted to take her into a bathroom stall. I kind of did.

I leaned closer, hypnotized by her perfume and sniffed her.

“Show’s over Lauren. Grab your things it’s time to go,” I said against her ear.

She tried to pull her wrist from my hand but my grip tightened and I turned my head a fraction to stare into those blue orbs again. Shit, they were pretty.

“How do you know my name?”

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BOOKS IN THE TEMPTED SERIES

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ABOUT JANINE INFANTE BOSCO

Janine Infante Bosco

Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Hopeless Vow by Rachael Duncan


Title: Hopeless Vows 
Author: Rachael Duncan

Genre: Contemporary Romance Standalone
Release Date: February 22, 2016
Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography
Cover Designer: Cover Me Darling
 
 

 

It was a modern take on an arranged marriage that was supposed to lead to my happily ever after.
The rules were simple:
 
1. Marry a complete stranger chosen for you by professionals.
2. Live together as man and wife for eight weeks while cameras record your every move.
3. Make a decision to stay together or get a divorce.
 
Call me crazy, but I had complete faith in the process, until I saw who was waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
 
Austin James has never met me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know him. With no other choice, I say my vows and pray I can make it through the next eight weeks. Then I’ll leave. What connects us is my best kept secret, and I’ll protect it at all costs even if that means walking away from the only person I’ve ever cared about.
 

 

 

“This is the first book I’ve read by Rachael Duncan, but it won’t be my last. I absolutely loved this book from start to finish.”
A.M. Madden, Amazon and Barnes & Noble Best Selling Romance Author


“I can’t rate Hopeless Vows high enough and I honestly feel like this will be Rachael’s breakthrough novel that will take her places and have her name known all around this community. Brilliant job!”
Swoon Worthy Book Blog


“I haven’t had a book hangover in so long and after reading Hopeless Vows, I did. This book is beyond good.”
Joanne Schwehm, author of the Prescott Series


“What did I think? I’m honestly not sure I can convey what I think right now. I feel like no matter what words I put down that it won’t do this book justice.”
Books, Chocolate, and Lipgloss


“Jillian and Austin literally sizzled on the pages. The chemistry was palpable. The characters were well-developed and the plot was so much more than I thought it would be.”
Casey L. Bond, author of The Sin Series


“I love the way her writing balances sexiness, humor and hurt, and I find myself able to relate to her characters, no matter how outlandish or unconventional their circumstances.” -Give Me Books


“As an author, it’s hard for me to find a book that is unpredictable for me. Usually, I can see twists and turns coming from a mile away, but Rachael had a couple for me I never saw coming.”
JB McGee, Best Selling Author

 



 
 

The longer this experiment goes on, the more I fall for him, and the more the deceit eats at me. When I lie awake some nights, it crawls up my body, tickling my skin, reminding me that underneath, I’m a horrible human being.
Deceitful.
Cowardly.
Manipulative.
Selfish.
All negative adjectives, and all describe me.
He’ll never find out, taunts an inner voice. What’s worse is that it also tells me it’s okay to keep this from him. That the two of us can live out this fantasy unscathed and content. As delusional as my inner voice is, I find myself clinging to it like a leech, feasting on the lie.

 


BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy
 

Will be added ASAP….  xx

 

 
 
 

 
 

Rachael Duncan is an Army wife to her amazing husband, Steven, and mother to their beautiful daughters, Natalie and Zoe. She grew up in Nashville, Tennessee and went off to graduate from the University of Tennessee with a bachelor’s degree in political science. With initial plans to work in politics, she moved to Washington, D.C. and worked on Capitol Hill for a House Representative. After a short time, she realized it wasn’t for her and began pursuing other careers until she started writing.
She’s author of Tackled by Love and The Lies and Truth Duet.
 
 
 

 


 
 

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COVER REVEAL – The Stars in the Sky by Leslie McAdam

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We are beyond thrilled to share the incredibly sexy cover for
The Stars in the Sky by Leslie McAdam!

This standalone about a foul-mouthed vegan and tight-lipped rancher
is set to explode onto your kindles on March 15, 2016!

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Cover Designer: Michele Catalano Creative
Photographer: Cory Stierley / Instagram

Model: Mitchell Wick / Facebook | Instagram


Blurb:

When foul-mouthed, tattooed, vegan Marie Diaz-Austin accepted a summer internship on a ranch north of Santa Barbara to work with underprivileged and special needs kids she was expecting hard work. She wasn’t expecting the gorgeous, but conservative rancher, Will Thrash who wants nothing to do with left-wing hippies like her.

While they both may be stubborn when it comes to climate change, they’re much less rigid about considering a summer fling. Although they hate each other’s politics, they can’t deny their immediate and growing attraction to each other. But when the stakes are raised and they’re forced to make a choice what will give? Their principles or themselves?


 

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Pre-Order:

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The Sun and The Moon is now available in paperback!

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BUY LINK:

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About the Author:

Leslie McAdam is a California girl who loves romance, Little Dude, and well-defined abs. She lives in a drafty old farmhouse on a small orange tree farm in Southern California with her husband and two small children. Leslie always encourages her kids to be themselves – even if it means letting her daughter wear leopard print from head to toe. An avid reader from a young age, she will always trade watching TV for reading a book, unless it’s Top Gear. Or football. Leslie is employed by day but spends her nights writing about the men you fantasize about. She’s unapologetically sarcastic and notoriously terrible at comma placement (that’s what editors are for!).

Always up for a laugh, Leslie tries to see humor in all things. When she’s not in the writing cave you’ll find her fangirling over Beck, camping with her family, or mixing up oil paints to depict her love of outdoors on canvas.

Connect with Leslie:

BLOG TOUR – LOVE’EM By Kelley Harvey

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COVER


Title :
LOVE ‘EM –

A Bad Boy Romance
Author : Kelley Harvey

• Amazon Paid In Kindle Store Top 100 Best Selling Author •

Genre : Contemporary Romance

Release Date : February 11, 2016

BONUS:
For a limited time, the eBook of LOVE ‘EM. – A Bad Boy Romance will include a
BONUS. SO. BAD. –
A Bad Boy Next Door novel full length novel.
Both are standalones.

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LOVE ‘EM—a Bad Boy Romance

Book Blurb

RONNIE

He’s rude. He’s crude. He’s socially unacceptable.

Jackson Tremaine gets under my skin as easily as he gets into my pants.

He’s the prince of late night television and he single-handedly ruins my life between commercial breaks.

That’s fine. Payback’s a bitch, and she’s named Ronnie Fitz.

JACKSON

Ronnie thinks she knows men, but she don’t know Jack—jackshit, that is.

The biggest problem with Ronnie Fitz? She’s addictive.

I had the best night of my life with her, and now she decides we can only be friends?

Screw the friend-zone.

It’s the fuck-zone or no-zone with Jackson Tremaine.


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Where you can purchase LOVE ‘EM:

LOVE ‘EM available on Amazon, $.99
or *FREE* for Kindle Unlimited Members.

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK

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exclusive excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

RONNIE

My brand new shoes bite into the back of my heels and squish my toes. I fill a paper cup with water and set it aside without ingesting so much as a sip.

Shayna takes my elbow as I pass by for the fifteenth time. “For Christ’s sake, sit down. I wasn’t nervous until you started pacing.”

I press my finger to the twitch at the corner of my left eye. “This is going to be a disaster. I know it.”

“It’ll be fine. Relax.” My best friend for the last three years fluffs my corkscrew curls around my shoulders and grasps my upper arms. “A live studio audience will be good. I promise. You’ll be so happy you did this.”

“Somehow I doubt it. Why couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut when Sam called?” Blah blah blah, that’s what she did. Info dump right into my agent’s ear, and that was the cannonball on the catapult that shot me straight to the gates of Hell.

Shayna was the first to be invited on the show, and after she talked to Sam, I got a call too.

Shay whirls me around to face a blank wall. She holds her hand up as if she’s painting a scene. “Picture this: You’ll sell a million books, and then you can take me to Cancun. We’ll sip fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas, delivered to us on golden trays by hot cabana boys who don’t speak our language. We’ll say the rudest things and smile and still get laid at the end of the day.”

A smile pulls up the corner of my mouth even as I rub the ache between my eyebrows. “If you say so. Let’s just hope Jackson Tremaine is feeling charitable tonight.”

She sticks her tongue out. “Jackson Tremaine can go fuck himself.”

I straighten her platinum blonde, not-quite-human-hair wig and tip her bug-eye sunglasses down enough to stare into her baby blues. “You think all men should go fuck themselves. You know, most of them want the same things we want. To be loved. To be respected. You just have to give them a chance.”

“Every year, I offer about a hundred of them a ‘chance’. All but three have failed, and those already belonged to other women.” Shay quirks her auburn eyebrow. Good thing the shades hide the dead giveaway that she isn’t really a blonde bombshell.

A sad sigh escapes before I can catch it. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, but maybe you need to consider another career path?”

Even though her eyes are hidden again, it’s as though I hear them rolling.

“Thanks for the advice, but I make an excellent living in my current line of work. As much as I love you, Ronnie, you and I have two different philosophies when it comes to men. I’m good with that.”

A petite woman pops into the room. “Ladies, he’s going to bring you out one at a time, starting with you, Ronnie. In five.”

My stomach grabs hold of my esophagus and trembles as the second hand ticks away the moments. My first live appearance on television is tying me into knots.

Appearing on the Up Late with Jackson Tremaine show should be a boon, but it’s probably going to blow up in my face. Like a big fat dirty bomb. Lights out.

My instinct says that he’s a shark and I’m a guppy. He’s going to chew me up and spit me out. That’s if I’m lucky, and he doesn’t swallow me whole.

No. I won’t let him. He’s a man, like all the other men I’ve studied since I was twelve and Dad skipped out on my overbearing, never-to-be-pleased mother. If she’d have shown him some love and compassion, he’d have stayed. I’m sure of it.

I have to remember that about Jackson. Underneath his Armani suits and Rolex watches, he wants the same things as everyone else—respect and love. That’s all. Show him some respect, and he’ll return the favor. And, after tonight, I can move on and watch my book sales skyrocket as I ring in the new year, and my bank account will follow suit.

Shayna stands in front of the full length mirror in the corner and applies a fresh coat of the blood-red lipstick she purchased specifically for tonight. “Can you tell that it’s me?”

I rub my finger along my bottom lip. “Well, I can tell it’s you, but I’d know you with a bag on your head. That sassy sway of your hips and the way you talk with your hands would give it away. But, I think you’re all right. Most people don’t pay that close of attention. I’m certain your secret’s safe.”

“I only want to ensure my potential clients can be assured that their unsuspecting, cheating bastards won’t know what’s coming when I make my move.”

I shake my head. “One of these days, Shay—”

“I know. I know.” She brings her tone up an octave, mimicking me. “‘One of these days, you’re going to meet the man of your dreams. You’re going to read my book. You’ll fall in love. And wah,wah, fucking wah.’ Save it, Rons. I am perfectly happy with my life. I’ll let you do the loving. I’ll stick with fuck and release, thank you.”

 

Offstage, the silent monitor flickers in the dark. On screen, two insanely gorgeous men smile at a shared joke and holiday lights twinkle in the background. The host tidies his stack of note cards, tapping them on the desk and tucking the one at the front behind the others.

Jackson’s voice has a velvet covered rasp, even sexier in person than on television. “Eleven days to Christmas, and a brand new year waits just around the corner. Many will make and break resolutions. How about those resolutions to find love or dump a dead weight relationship?”

His smile widens as he holds up his hands, trying to calm the masses as they cheer.

When the crowd quiets, he says, “The ladies who make up this duo are actually very best friends. The livelihood of both women depends on love, in one capacity or another. I call them Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em, if that tells you anything at all about their respective career fields.”

He brushes his fingers through chocolate-colored hair. “Let’s meet Love ‘Em first. How many of you gals have your eye on a man who seems to stay just out of reach, or one who doesn’t want to commit?”

Someone in the audience cat-calls about her guy.

“And we’re glad you’ve got a man who’s hung like King Kong.” Jackson answers the bawdy lady while he winks at the camera. “Anyway, our next guest thinks she knows men. Love ‘Em’s got us all figured out and has put her wealth of knowledge into book form.”

My stomach takes a plunge to my feet. Here we go.

He holds up my book and exchanges a knowing look with his first guest as he stands. “This guide for women is supposed to help you ladies catch and keep your dream lovers. Please welcome the author of Decode the Man in Your Life, Ronnie Fitz.”

The handler ushers me toward the stage’s side entrance. “Watch—”

Applause drowns out whatever he’s saying as I clear the edge of the royal blue curtain. The clipboard-wielding guy gives me a shove toward Jackson Tremaine who waits three feet ahead with his hand held out in greeting.

Jackson has the clearest sage green eyes I’ve ever seen, dark around the edges but almost white at their center. They crinkle at the corners as he smiles at me, sending my heart into an abnormal rhythm. The hand he holds out to me waves me out, drawing me to him like a—

Something grabs my ankle. Crap. A cable running across the floor is wrapped over my beautiful new shoe. I try to compensate with my other foot, but it makes it worse. I stumble forward, losing my balance as my plastered-on smile falters. Instead of shaking his hand, I fall against Jackson Tremaine’s muscular chest.

Strong arms come around me, pulling me up and tight against him. His scent, something like sandalwood and cinnamon, envelopes me. His laugh vibrates through my breasts, now pressed firmly against his pecs.

The audience goes bat-shit wild with applause.

Oh my—Hell. In Hell. Right now. This can’t be happening.

Mr. Tremaine hangs on tight until the crowd quiets.

“Well, that’s a great start to a new relationship. But I’m afraid I’m happy in my bachelorhood, Ms. Fitz.” He sets me away from him, adjusting first his tie and then his junk right in front of God and everybody.

Heat floods my face, and I don’t know where to look. “Oh, I’m—so sorry. I tripped.”

He tosses a sly look at the closest camera. “No worries. I don’t mind at all. I enjoy a beautiful woman in my arms any time—but only for a short time.”

Jackson takes my hand, sending tingles up my arm. “I’ll hold on to you until we get you safely into your seat.”

He leads me to the chair between guest number one and the side of the desk.

Jackson stage whispers to the other man. “Be careful of this one, Bax. Love ‘Em’s quite a handful.”

Casino mogul Baxter Ransom nods as he offers his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Fitz.”

I do the best I can to swallow my embarrassment. “Likewise.”

Jackson returns to his seat. “So, Ronnie—you don’t mind if I call you that? You’ve put together this instruction manual, if you will, for women.”

I brush my wild curls away from my face with trembling fingers. “I suppose you could call it that. It’s really only common sense things that most of us already know but fail to put into practice in our everyday lives.”

“I read the book last night—well, parts of it—and I’m not convinced.”

The lead weight in my gut grows.

No, it’s okay. He’s playing Devil’s Advocate. It’s his job.

“Oh? What part do you need help with?” I smile, but inside my heart is shriveling into a raisin.

He’s making me out to look a fool, and no one is going to buy my book by the time he’s done with me.

He leans back in his chair, propping his feet on his desk. “Well, this whole idea that a woman can get the guy she wants, simply by showing him deference and respect…”

I take a quick breath, heat simmering in my stomach. Dumbass is twisting my words. “I didn’t say deference.”

He laces his fingers across his flat belly. “Oh, maybe I read that incorrectly. Don’t get me wrong. I like the idea of a woman who shows a man respect. I don’t buy that it will get him to commit.”

The fire in my gut stirs. “Well, think about it, Mr. Tremaine. What man doesn’t want the woman in his life to tell him how amazing he is on a daily basis?”

I wait, but he just sits there, smugness poised on his too handsome face. It’s as if he didn’t hear the question I asked.

“Well?” I prompt.

His eyebrows go up, fake surprise in his expression. “Oh, that wasn’t rhetorical?”

No wonder he’s still single.

I let out a huff of air. “How many men get the respect they want and deserve from the women who profess to love them? The principals in my book all come down to one thing: men aren’t as complicated as ladies think they are. They want love just like women do. The biggest difference is what they perceive as love.”

He squints as though considering my words. “Well, they do say perception is ninety percent of reality. My ninety percent says this is a load of rhino dung.”

My jaw drops.

Did he really just say that—about my book, my magnum opus, in front of billions of people?

I snap my mouth shut and glare at him. “Maybe your perception is what’s full of shit.”

His eyes widen, and his gaze darts to a man on the sidelines with a clipboard and an apoplectic vein popping out on his forehead.

“Oops, probably shouldn’t have cursed. All those pesky FCC regulations.” I smile sweetly at my asshole of a host.

Jackson nods to the vein guy, whips his feet off his desk, and holds my book up once more. “And there you have it, folks. Want to know how to get a man? Buy the book and have him in the bag by Valentine’s Day.”

He tosses the book aside and smiles directly at the camera set in the middle isle of the gallery of seats. “Our next guest, BFF to Ms. Fitz here, is pretty much her polar opposite.”

In ways he will never understand.

Jackson grins. “Leave ‘Em—remember that’s her nickname. Sorry, I can’t reveal her true identity, because she needs the anonymity to run her business. Leave ‘Em claims she doesn’t believe in true love. Well, I suppose not, considering it’s her job to prove it isn’t out there.”

Jackson stands and claps. “Please welcome our next guest. She’s the person other women hire to test the men in their lives.”

Shayna glides onto the stage—no tripping for her. She’s much too graceful as she waves and blows kisses Marilyn Monroe style. Maybe she’s taking that wig too seriously.

Shayna takes Jackson’s offered hand in both of hers as Baxter and I shuffle chairs to make room for Shayna in the seat I vacated, closest to the host.

Jackson seats my friend and takes his own chair. “So, you’re the temptress who actually tries to get men to cheat before you report back to your clients.”

“I suppose you might describe my work that way.” Shayna’s lacquered fingernail taps out a rhythm on the arm of her chair.

“You set up and ambush unsuspecting men?” Mr. Ransom shifts in his seat.

She licks her bright red lips. “I only make an overture they could easily ignore. It’s only a trap for those men already predisposed to cheat on their significant other.”

Jackson Tremaine leans forward, his elbows on his desk, chin in his hands. “So, Ms. Leave ‘Em, do you actually screw these cheating guys?”

Shayna grins. As usual, she’s unfazed by direct barbs. As a matter of fact, I’m fairly certain she likes it.

“No, I never go that far. I’m not a prostitute. I simply do my best to lure the men to willingly place themselves in a compromising position. I always stop before anything too serious happens.”

Baxter rubs his chin, as though contemplating what Shayna has said. “Never?”

“Never.” Her shades hide her rolling eyes, but I’m certain that’s what she did.

Baxter lifts one eyebrow. “Hmm.”

Jackson barks a laugh, which he unsuccessfully tries to cover with a cough. “Excuse me. I—oh hell, I can’t lie. I just had a fantastic idea.”

Our host sends a sly look toward the camera to his left before he turns his full attention to me. “So, Ms. Love ‘Em—Ronnie—would you be willing to wager that should a woman use the techniques in your book, her man won’t have the propensity to cheat, because he’d be so enamored of her and happy at home?”

Baxter Ransom coughs, and Shayna whips around to me, her mouth slightly agape.

My throat goes bone dry. “Um—well, I mean—I—”

Shayna jumps to my rescue. “A cheater will cheat, no matter how wonderful his woman is. Some guys are scum. Cheaters cheat, no matter what.”

I lay my hand on her arm. “Wait. No. I believe most people cheat because something in their relationship is lacking.”

Shay elbows me. “Shh.”

I toss her a look.

She ignores me. “No. A cheater is a cheater is a cheater—no matter what.”

The mischief coming off of Jackson Tremaine is almost palpable, and the audience goes silent. It’s as though they know he’s going to do something outrageous, which he probably will. And they’ll all think it’s epic, only I’ll probably be shoved to a lower level of Hell. Even the slight shifting and shuffling that usually goes on in a crowd dies down as he continues to study me and my friend.

He looks around both of us. “Bax, you’re a gambler.”

Mr. Ransom draws back. “Well, my business is gambling, but—”

“Let’s make a wager, shall we? Right here on live television.”

My bladder twitches. Nervousness makes me need to pee. I could probably fill up three adult diapers at this very moment. Whatever Jackson has in mind is bound to be bad for me, terrible for my book, and probably horrible for my long-term career goals.

Baxter leans closer to Jackson. “Go on.”

“Let’s see which of these two ladies’ juju works best.” Jackson wags his eyebrows like he’s a villain in a cartoon.

Shayna pops up out of her seat. “That’s not how I run my business.”

“Aw, c’mon, now, be a sport.” Baxter grins, his eyes trailing from her fake hair all the way to the five-inch heels of her platform fuck-me boots.

Jackson looks straight into the main camera. “What do you think, America? Shall we wager that Love ‘Em can’t use the techniques in her book to keep Leave ‘Em from taking her man?”

Shayna falls into her seat with a thud. “She doesn’t even have a man.”

And there it is. I let out a sigh. All of America knows I’m a love specialist who’s not in love and has no man. No hint of a man in my life—not even an old toothbrush still haunting my medicine cabinet from a man I once had. I’m sunk.

Jackson cocks his head, as though he can hardly believe what he’s heard.

I open my mouth to rebut her statement, only to be interrupted.

“Do you not have a significant other, Ms. Love ‘Em?” His green eyes are too beautiful for someone like him. Nasty, evil people shouldn’t get to be gorgeous. Not fair. They should be ugly as a warning to children not to become emotionally corrupt.

I close my eyes. I so hoped this wouldn’t come up. Of all the things, why this?

I clear my throat. “That has absolutely no bearing on—”

He holds up one finger. “Wait. Hear me out. I take it from your reply that the answer is no?”

Panic sweeps over me in a rush of hot tingles up the back of my neck and across my face. I fight the urge to jump up and run off stage. “No significant other at this time.”

The twinkle in his eyes makes me want to scratch them out of his skull. I’ve never met a man I liked less.

Ever.

I toss my purse onto the counter in the kitchen. “Worst. Day. In. History.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You could’ve avoided that entire exchange.” Shayna drops into a chair at the table and unzips her thigh-high boot.

My jaw falls almost to my navel. “I could have avoided it? What about you?”

Shay kicks off one boot. “Not me. You’re the one who should’ve said no.”

You should have, too.”

She tilts her head to the side, glaring. “No. I couldn’t. My work depends on women trusting the fact that if their guy is a cheater—if he’s going to cheat at all—it would be with me. If I were to say I couldn’t possibly entice your guy—whoever the fuck that ends up being—into cheating, then why would anyone ever hire me?”

“Who’s going to buy a book on how to catch and keep their man from a woman who isn’t confident enough to say that she can keep her man enthralled enough that he’ll turn down the opportunity to go at it with a blonde dressed like a prostitute?”

“Prosti…” Shayna looks down at her outfit and giggles. “Yeah, I guess I am kind of dressed to head down to the boulevard and hawk my ample wares.”

She shimmies her tits in her too tight black leather jacket. “Day-umn. I didn’t even get the big O from that one. How about you?”

“What?”

She makes no sense to me sometimes.

Shay extricates herself from her other boot. “I mean, Jackson Tremaine fucked us both, and good.”

“I guess he did.” I drop into the chair adjacent to hers. “It’s not exactly like we can bail—not now that the entire country is waiting to see which one wins.”

She side-eyes me. “We could tell Jackson to fuck off, and dust off our hands and move on.”

I let out a weary breath. “No. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because millions, if not billions, of people saw us on that show. You’re fine if you bow out. You’ll continue to do your thing. But me? If I back out, I’m screwed six ways to Sunday.”

She rubs the teensy crease between her brows. “Aw, c’mon, Rons. Your book’s success isn’t completely dependent on Jackson Tremaine’s show. You just don’t want to rock the boat.”

“Rock what boat?”

“The boat where everyone does what’s expected and no one does what they shouldn’t. The viewers expect you to be part of this bet. You’ll do it, if for no other reason than that you’re afraid to break the rules.”

I huff. “What rules? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Girl, you’ll fall in line behind whatever perceived rule there is in any given situation. I hate to break it to you, but you, my friend, are a goody two-shoes. In your mind, there’s some invisible rule that states the gauntlet has been thrown. Therefore, you must meet the challenge.”

Goody two-shoes? Gauntlet?

“I break plenty of rules, thank you. It’s only that I happen to know this particular thing can sink my career faster than the Titanic went down. I’ve worked too hard for that to happen.”

Shay cast a skeptical glance at me. “What rules have you broken lately?”

The answer eludes me. I search through my recent memory. Nada.

I scratch my head. “I—I don’t know. Who keeps a journal of broken rules? Just… ugh, stop already. We have to do this bet.”

“Oh whatever. I’ll do it, because you’re my friend, and I’d cut off my right arm for you—that’s my masturbation hand, just so we’re clear about what I’d be giving up.”

Only Shay would point that out.

I can’t help but smile. “At least this way only one of us will be screwed.”

“Well, if I’m the one who loses, please make sure you throw me a pittance when you see me lying outside your gate with my tin cup.” She unpins her wig.

When she shakes her red hair down her back, it cascades like a waterfall. The slight wave in it is probably there from being rolled up under her Marilyn get-up. It’s moments like this that I hate her.

“I’d almost kill to have your hair,” I lament for the umpteenth time.

She shrugs. “Well, I would kill to have your curls. So you’d best sleep with one eye open, bitch.”

Shay’s African Gray whistles and squawks in the living room. “Bitch. Who you callin’ bitch?”

 

 


 

MEET KELLEY HARVEY

Kelley and her husband Mike live in North Central Texas. KH PicHaving two daughters, one teen and one in her early twenties, keeps them on their toes. In other words, they’re saturated in angst and excitement. Kelley often feels as though she lives on Teenage Drama Island and desperately needs a vacation to Adult Sans Kids Resort. The upside is she’s always awash in oceans of inspiration.

Kelley enjoys reading YA and NA, although on occasion she gets caught reading other genres. Writing is her full time job. Though it’s hard work, it’s also a dream come true. Her characters knock on the door of her heart and constantly poke their heads out the windows of her imagination. She hopes you connect with them as deeply as she does.

 


 

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Other Available Titles by Kelley Harvey

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PRE-ORDER BLITZ – One More Night with You by Lisa Marie Perry

 

Title: One More Night with You

Series: The Blue Dynasty #5 

Author: Lisa Marie Perry 

 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 Release Date: March 1, 2016

 


Blurb

 

Loving him is a dangerous job…

Former DEA agent Josephine de la Peña loved Zaf Ahmadi once—and she’s got the bullet scar to prove it. No wonder she holds a grudge against her hacker ex. But now, just as Joey’s preparing for a new job with the Las Vegas Slayers, Zaf reappears, insisting she’s in danger. The sexual pull between them is still as intense, and liable to hurt more than any gunshot.

Even if Joey could forgive him for the botched drug bust that got her injured, Zaf can’t forgive himself. Obsessively hunting for the criminals who killed his cousin warped his judgment. To protect Joey, he suggests he pose as her boyfriend. As long as he can keep emotional distance, he can keep her safe. Until the case presents him with a choice: pursue the vengeance he craves—or try to turn one smoldering night into so much more…

 

 



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Excerpt

 

“Shy, Zaf?”

He didn’t find the boldness in her tone authentic but accepted the words as a gauntlet thrown. He wasn’t shy; he was desperate and venturing into trouble he couldn’t mend.

Zaf leaned, angled his head, and she met him halfway. Her glossy lips were slippery under his kiss, teasing him as if she was flicking a feather across his face.

“Can’t seem to make a solid landing there, can you?” she uttered against his mouth.

The almost and not quite and close misses were a game to her.

But not to him. For Zaf, this was life and death.

“Joey…”

“Shh. Tell me something. You hacked Willa Smart’s company to get to me. Was it for this, for a kiss from a woman you used to screw?”

He’d done it because he was her protector. Compromising a matchmaker’s compatibility program was the means he’d taken to fulfill his obligation to her. Even if he’d lost his morality, he still possessed a sense of duty—whether he wanted it or not. “You were more than that. You’ve always known it.”

“Have I?”

The love that had once breathed between them had been inconvenient and confusing, yet the realest element in either of their lives. It had struck them unexpectedly. Neither was willing to let it go, and for that they were both to blame. Because something that good couldn’t last. Not for people like them who’d done what they had.

“I got to you because I’m on a job,” he told her. Yeah, it was a vague explanation, but he wouldn’t divulge particulars now. “The kiss is because I can’t fight it. I’ve thought about you constantly since that night. It hasn’t been never-ending death, but it’s been a never-ending mindfuck.”

“They put you down, didn’t they? DC?”

“It needed to happen.”

“Down deep, Zaf. You didn’t turn up at your parents’ place in Jersey or even in Pakistan. There was talk that you were dead but I didn’t think that. I knew you wouldn’t get time, either, that they’d rather have you on reserve than in a cell. About a year after… What I’m trying to say is I tried to bring you back and I couldn’t find you.”

His mind spun through the past five years. The US government had dragged his ass up for a few missions that needed a sharpshooter of his caliber on the front line, but had thrown him back afterward at his request. He was freelance—off record, off the FBI’s payroll, damn near a ghost. He wanted it that way.

“Why’d you want to bring me back?”

“To ask you why you went dirty. You cut a deal with those bastards when I thought we were on the same side. You killed me when you turned, damn it.”

So she still believed he’d defected to the drug-funneling terrorists he’d been quietly hunting since they’d captured, tortured and murdered his cousin eight years ago. The feds hadn’t gone out of their way to clean up his image, but what did it matter now? There was so much that Joey didn’t know. But she’d been a thread in a web that was bigger than DEA and even now it was necessary to lead her with lies.

“The kiss,” she said finally as fresh tears welled. “Don’t fight it.”

There was something he didn’t altogether trust about her spurring him on, but as he’d said—he couldn’t fight it. Nor would he try. Giving her what she provoked, he let go of her hand to hold her head steady. She yielded, opening her mouth to bring him home.

 

 

 

Author Bio

 

 

Lisa Marie Perry encounters difficult fictional men and women on a daily basis. A firm believer that variety is the spice of her life, she’s the author of sizzling, smart contemporary romance fiction featuring flawed guy-next-door heroes and larger-than-life alphas who are brought to their knees by the love of complicated women.


Lisa Marie is a Romance Writers of America member and her publishers are Harlequin, Grand Central Publishing, Kensington and Random House/Loveswept. She has received high praise from USA Today and has been nominated for an RT Book Reviews literary award. She lives in America’s heartland, drives a truck, enjoys indie rock, collects Medieval literature, watches too many comedies, has a not-so-secret love for lace and adores rugged men with a little bit of nerd.

She’s been told that she frowns too much, but she loves to laugh and appreciates pretty things, okay people and clever jokes.

 

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