Daily Archives: 28/11/2016

RELEASE BLAST ~ Not-So Temporarily Married by Fiona Davenport

 

 

Not So Temporarily Married
Fiona Davenport

 

Genre: Contemporary/Erotic Romance

*Standalone*
 
     

BUY LINKS
 
 

*Available on Kindle Unlimited*

 


 

 


 BLURB:

Zoe Elliot has resisted Landon Heath’s advances, only because he’s her boss and she needs her job to keep her work visa. But when she’s in danger of being deported, she agrees to his crazy suggestion of getting married… temporarily, of course.

Landon wants the beautiful Canadian for his own, and he’s not above using her situation to tie her to him—permanently. He knows he has to move quickly, before she realizes they’re not so temporarily married.

 


 
 

BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy
When I need a hot, quick pick-me-up read, Fiona Davenport never fails to hit the spot!!

Not-so Temporarily Married was a fun, hot read with all the elements I’ve come to expect and enjoy with a book from the FD ladies!!
Landon knew what he wanted when it came to Zoe and when an opportunity to fulfil his wishes fell into his hands he went out of his way to make sure nothing got in the way of his plans… Yep he was mega alpha, over-the-top crazy about his lady and determined to make the object of his attraction his, but he was loving, attentive and sweet when it came to Zoe’s happiness.

Zoe didn’t quite know what had hit her when the dust had settled but given that she had a serious attraction to Landon, and didn’t particularly mind his overbearing ways, winning her over really wasn’t going to be too hard – and hell, who can blame the girl for falling for him!

When you open up one of the ladies’ books you know what to expect and this was no exception. A short read, this was another good story from the ladies and one I definitely recommend if you’re a Fiona Davenport fan or just looking for a hot, determined alpha male to spend a little time with…..

I’m giving Not-So Temporarily Married 4*.



 
EXCERPT
I dug through the pile and found the envelope she was referring to at the bottom. It was impossible to miss with US Citizenship and Immigration Services listed on the upper left corner.
“Crap. Crap. Crap,” I chanted to myself as I tore it open. Then it turned to “fuck, fuck, fuck” as my heart dropped. I read through the letter quickly the first time around, and then much more slowly to make sure I wasn’t misunderstanding what it said.
Unfortunately, the meaning didn’t change the second time around. “I’m fucked,” I groaned.
“Not yet you aren’t,” Landon growled from the door as he barged into my office and slammed it shut. “If you were, I’d know it because I’d be the one doing the fucking.”
His raspy voice slid over my skin and heated it. Just the sound of him talking had my panties wet, and I’d been avoiding him all this time because I’d thought he’d be the reason why I had visa problems.
“All those wasted opportunities,” I muttered.
“Not wasted,” he corrected. “Foreplay.”
“I don’t have time for this right now, Landon. Not when my whole world is falling apart,” I cried, waving the letter in the air.
“You sound as bad as Samantha did when she told me to get my ass in here.” He tore it from my hands, and I dropped my head to my desk while he read through the letter.
“It’s just an additional interview, Zoe,” he said soothingly, in a failed attempt to calm me down.
“My visa was approved by an immigration officer at the border two months ago. It was easy peasy. I showed him my TN visa application letter, my bachelor’s degree, and my passport. I answered some questions about how long I planned to stay in the country. About how often I planned to go home to see my family. Boom, I was approved. Which means they shouldn’t have any additional questions for me,” I retorted as I jumped to my feet and paced back and forth. “Except, someone apparently has it in for me since they received a tip that I lied about my intent to stay here for only three years. Who would do something like that?”
“Calm the fuck down,” he ordered, as though it was that simple.
“Calm down?” I parroted. “That’s easy for you to say since you’re not the one in danger of being deported!”
“Neither are you.”
“I beg to differ”—I stormed towards him and jabbed my finger in his chest, absently noticing how firm it was—“since an appointment at an immigration field office sure sounds like the start to yanking my work visa to me.”
“You know what?” he drawled. “Don’t calm down. Feel free to freak the fuck out because in the end that will work out even better for me.”
“What in the heck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and me, Zoe. You’ve been denying what’s happening between us for two, fucking long as hell months,” he growled, his eyes lit with determination. “You’ve used your work visa as an excuse to keep yourself away from me. Well guess what, Blondie? Giving in to me is your way out of this mess.”
“I still have absolutely no idea what you mean. Maybe you can dumb it down for me since I’m blonde and all,” I muttered sarcastically, not a big fan of his nickname for me.
“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll make it as simple as one word—marriage.”
“What? No,” I gasped. “We haven’t even been out on a date!”
“And whose fault is that?” he countered. “It certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying on my part. If I’d had my way, you wouldn’t have a single doubt about how damn serious I am.”


 



OTHER BOOKS BY FIONA DAVENPORT

 

**All books available on Kindle Unlimited**

RISQUE CONTRACTS SERIES
 
Penalty Clause
 
Contingency Plan
 
Fraternization Rule
 

Risqué Contracts Series Box Set
Penalty Clause, Contingency Plan & Fraternization Rule
Amazon UK → http://amzn.to/1UDKbNL

YEAH, BABY SERIES
 
Baby, You’re Mine
 
Baby Steps
 
Baby, Don’t Go
 

Yeah, Baby Series Box Set
Baby, You’re Mine, Baby Steps & Baby, Don’t Go
 
Dance With Me, Baby
A Yeah, Baby Novella
 
I’m Yours, Baby
A Yeah, Baby Novella
 
Brief Me, Baby
A Yeah, Baby Novella
 

SEX & VOWS SERIES
 
Until Death Do We Part
 
For You, I Will
 
Mafia Ties Series

Nic & Anna’s Story
 
Deception 
Amazon US → http://amzn.to/1TewzIQ
 
Danger
 
Devotion
 Mafia Ties

Brandon & Carly’s Story
 
Pursuit
 
Power
 
Passion
 
STANDALONE
 
My Father’s Best Friend

Amazon UK → http://amzn.to/2eK6Sgr

 



 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
    
Hello! My name is Fiona Davenport and I’m a smutoholic. I’ve been reading raunchy romance novels since… well, forever and a day ago it seems. And now I get to write sexy stories and share them with others who are like me and enjoy their books on the steamier side. Fiona Davenport is my super-secret alias, which is kind of awesome since I’ve always wanted one.

AUTHOR LINKS:

 


SALES BLITZ ~ Wrapped in Lace by Prescott Lane

 

 
 
 
 
Wrapped in Lace by Prescott Lane is available for this week for only 99c
 
 
Do not miss this beautifully written story while it’s priced so ridiculously low.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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When I was a little boy, the best thing about the holiday season was unwrapping presents on Christmas morning — tearing off the paper and tossing it on the floor. Now that I’m a man, I like to unwrap slowly, deliberately, taking my time to savor what lies before me. I still like to throw the wrapping on the floor, but now I know the best gifts come wrapped in lace.
 
And unlike when I was a kid, I won’t get sick of this present by New Year’s. I’ll definitely be playing with this girl day after day after day.
 
After six years avoiding my hometown, the last thing I expected when I returned was a wannabe bad girl to unwrap my heart and rip open my soul. But that’s exactly what happened. Now if I can just get the hell out of my own way, maybe I’ll finally get the best gift of all — her!
 
Come get unwrapped by Drew this holiday.
 
 
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I sat back and studied the canvas. I’d finally gotten it right — the way his lips turn up in that smile that makes both my heart and panties melt. It had taken me over a dozen tries to get it just perfect, but I finally had. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel any better. I thought if I could capture Drew’s smile on my canvas, my pain would somehow lessen. Because I’d always have his image, that his leaving me wouldn’t hurt so bad. It hadn’t worked. The pain in my heart was just as sharp, just as overwhelming as it was yesterday and the day before. I knew I’d never get over him. I knew it like I knew the deep blue color of his eyes, the rough spots on his hands. I knew it like I knew the way his lips tasted, the feel of his thick brown hair.
 

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Prescott Lane is the Amazon bestselling author of Stripped Raw. She’s got five other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace and her new release, Layers of Her. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College with a degree in sociology. She went on to receive her MSW from Tulane University, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren’t enough happily ever afters in real life. Connect with Prescott Lane on
 
 

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Inked Babies (The Inked Brotherhood Epilogue) by Jo Raven

 

 

Title : Inked Babies
(The Inked Brotherhood Epilogue)

Author: Jo Raven 

 

Genre : Romance 

Photographer: Eric Battershell

Models: Burton Hughes and Coco Liliana Hughes

 

 
 
 
 
 
Five brothers in all but blood, five girls who love them, emerging from a past fraud with darkness and danger. There are wedding bells, and baby cries and laughter all around. They have found their happy ending.

Only one cloud is marring these blue skies, and it has to do with Zane, the rock of the brotherhood. Nobody knows exactly what is wrong, but here’s the thing, folks:
There are five of us, and we’re brothers in all but blood. We stand all for one and one for all. If you messed with one of us, you’ve messed with all of us. We protect our own.
And Zane is more than one of our own. He’s our leader. He’s our steady center. If our center shatters, we all shatter.
This brotherhood is strong. We’re gonna find out what troubles him and put it to rest, once and for all, bury it, stomp on it, crush it until it’s fixed or gone. 
Time we celebrated our happy ending.



Amazon UK 
Amazon DE 
Amazon AU

 


 
“How many lines do you see?” Audrey asks. 
“I’m not drunk, you know.” 
“Maybe I am. Humor me.” We’re both kneeling on the cold tiles of the bathroom, but can’t seem to move from the spot. 
“Two. Red. Lines.” I lick my lips. “And that means?” 
She punches me in the shoulder. It’s like a kitten pawing at me. “Ash.” 
“What?” I grin. 
“You know very well what it means.” She starts to laugh, covering her face with her hands, and she sounds kinda hysterical. “Oh my God, Asher Devlin.” 
I can’t stop my grin from widening. “We’re having another baby.” 
The pregnancy test is positive. I knew it in my gut for weeks now that she was pregnant, and here’s proof. I feel sorta proud, and scared, and happy at the same time. 
I whoop and draw her into my arms to kiss her mouth. “I love you, Auds.” 
“Love you, too, but…” She trembles a little in the circle of my arms. “So soon? Scott is not even two yet. He’s still breastfeeding, for God’s sake.” 
I lower my hand to her still flat tummy. “And he’ll love a brother, or a sister to play with.” 
“It will be hard.” 
“We’ll be fine. We’ll do this together.” I bite my lip not to laugh at the look she sends me. “Well, I’ll help as much as I can. Rub your feet and all. Rub anything you need rubbed.” I lift my hand to cup one of her breasts, and yeah, I had thought her tits were heavier, and look, I’m right.  
“It’s your fault,” she mutters, that mutinous look still flashing in her green eyes. “You and your… your cock.” 
“It’s a super cock.” Apparently. I glance down where my dick is starting to rise to the occasion, tenting the front of my briefs. All this talk of baby making and the feel of her breast in my hand are giving it ideas. “Super Cock would like to say hi to Super Mommy.” 
“Stop it.” She punches my shoulder again, and I brush my thumb over her hardening nipple, making her gasp.  
Wow, her tits are almost spilling out of her fine-laced bra, and all I wanna do is drag her to our bed and sink into her. 
Looks like she’ll need some persuading first, though. Her fine brows are knit. “I’ll never finish my studies, not with another baby. Oh God…” 
“Hey. Auds.” I put my hand under her chin, tilt her face up until she’s looking at me. “Yes, you will. This baby wasn’t planned, hell, the previous one either, but we’re in this together. I meant it when I said it. I’ll help. We’ll find a way, and you’ll do everything you’ve ever dreamed of, okay? I promise.” 
She nods, her eyes filling up, but she’s smiling. “I want your babies, Ash. All your babies. I trust you.” 
My girl. I brush my mouth over hers, tasting her sweetness. “I hope I never give you cause to regret it.” 
“You won’t.” She smiles at me, and her expression turns dreamy, just like it did the time we found out she was pregnant with Scott. Her hand covers mine over her tummy, and I try to imagine us with another baby. 
A sudden stab of panic hits me, and I swallow hard. “Am I… Am I doing this right, Auds? With you and Scott? Am I…?” 
“You’re the perfect daddy,” she whispers, calming me down like every time my fears flare up. “You’re amazing, and I’m yours.” 
 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 


 
 
Jo Raven is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, best known for her series Inked Brotherhood and Damage Control. She writes edgy, contemporary New Adult romance with sexy bad boys and strong-willed heroines. She writes about MME fighters and tattoo artists, dark pasts that bleed into the present, loyalty and raw emotion. Add to that breathtaking suspense, super-hot sex scenes and a happy ending, and you have a Jo Raven® story.
 
 
 
Find all her books here . 
 
Be the first to get your hands on Jo Raven’s new releases & offers, giveaways, previews, and more by signing up here 
 
Meet Jo Raven online – on Facebook
 
chat with her on Twitter
 
join her readers group for sneak previews of her covers and stories


RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Hail Mary by Nicola Rendell

 

 

 

 
 
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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.



 

 
 
 

 
Chapter 1

Jimmy


She’s got a hell of a left hook, and her jab is no joke either. It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, with the big blue rubber mouth guard between her teeth and the black padded headgear covering her jaw and cheeks. But I know this: I want to get my hands on that body. Her tight pink tee is low cut and skin tight, and across her breasts are the words: “NOBODY’S PUSSYCAT.”
A cold draft blows in from the window, making goosebumps ripple up her arms. A thin stream of sweat runs down into her cleavage, and then I watch her nipples tighten. Christ. With little bounces, she heads back to her corner and bends over for her water bottle. Stretchy black leggings and no panty line.
Fuuuuuck.
The buzzer dings and we square up. She holds her gloves up to her face, ready to go. They’re bubblegum pink with white cuffs; the girliest weapons I’ve ever seen.
But never mind the gloves. It’s those eyes that have me. Shit, those eyes. This crazy deep green. Packers’ green. Jets’ green. Green like cash. Green that could make a guy go right out of his mind.
Pow goes a jab into my stomach and I double over, tasting my Gatorade from an hour ago. Before I can breathe, before I can even get up my gloves to slow her down, she pelts me hard with a cross to my sternum that knocks the wind straight out of me. I gasp for air and stagger back into the ropes.
“Jesus Christ,” I moan. “Who are you?”
Her eyes light up in this smile. This beautiful fucking smile that I feel way down inside. Then she bounces on her toes and smacks her gloves together out in front of her. Whap, whap. “I’m Mary!” she says around her mouth guard. “And you’re slow!”
Cute. But, yeah…no. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody. I hurl myself off the ropes, colliding with her in the center of the ring, skin against skin now. I press into her sexy shoulder with my bicep, feeling the sweat between us. She nails me in the gut again; a solid, low-slung straight, and I think, I can’ t hit a girl, can I?
No. Fuck, no.
So I stretch my arm between us, the padding of my glove holding her steady right below her collarbone. She swings for me but I’m a foot taller and she doesn’t stand a chance. “Jerk!”
Obviously.
But on the upside, now I can really get a good look at her the way I want to; close up, but not so close that she’s pummeling me. Her legs are solid and I can even see that little curve of her hipbones barely showing through her leggings. I let my eyes follow the line of sweat to her inner thighs, to that wet, hot place where everything comes together. Fuck. I want my hands on that place. I want to feel the softness and the strength. I want to know the taste of that sweat. The way that softness gives under my tongue.
Ding goes the buzzer. I push her away, padded knuckles to her shoulder. She spins and gets into her corner, so I do the same.
I grab my water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, watching her all the time. She’s fucking beautiful, this one. Fucking gorgeous. The woman of dreams. Of fantasies.
From a pink Nalgene, she takes one big gulp, two, and a little water dribbles down her lips, rolling in drops down her throat. Her eyes stay right on mine. Her chest heaves. Her eyes flash. Her lips tighten. And that’s when it happens. She peels off her T-shirt and tosses it to the floor so that the only word showing is PUSSY.
Ding.
Her body is fucking perfect. I mean perfect. I moan into my mouth guard and I look her up and down. Lean but not thin. Sexy and strong. A fighter’s body. A woman’s body. A body strong enough to take everything I want to give it. And then some.
She turns to set down her water bottle, bending at the waist. And that’s when I see it. The tattoo. It’s a ribbon of black lace that runs in a beautiful, feminine line down her back from right shoulder to left hip, curving down into her pants. Tough as hell, pretty as can be. And with the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen in my life.
Stick a motherfucking fork in me. I’m done.
“Nice ink,” I tell her as we square up again.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning in to my shoulder.
“I’ve never seen one like it.” I hook my arm around her again and pull her in. I smell something familiar. I can’t place it. She slips free and moves behind me. For one second, all I can hear is her shoes on the mats.
“I rebelled when I turned 30. It was either this or a tramp stamp.”
“Of what?” I pivot so my face is close against hers.
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” She smiles tight around the mouth guard. Her glove comes through the air, cutting through the noise of the gym. Whooosh.
I get my right hand up just in time to block her with my glove. The impact rolls down my forearm like I’m nothing but Jell-O.
She lets another jab fly but misses me—barely—and I slip around behind her. The hair at the nape of her neck is curly and wet, and a long dark braid runs down her back. That strip of wet fabric at the top of her pants, dark with sweat. “Why are we fighting?” I growl as I get closer. “Why aren’t we out drinking? Making trouble? Fucking around? Let me take you out.”
She spins to face me, her eyes wide open, surprised. “You wanna drink with me?”
“Hell yes, I do. And a lot of other things.”
“You want me? Fight me.” She fires her bubblegum pink cannons at my stomach with a one-two combination that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a 283-pound heavy bag.
I try to get in a left cross, but she’s way faster than I am and comes up from under with a hook straight out of Manila.
That one got me in my brainpan, in my marrow. “Fuck that,” I snarl.
“Atta boy!”
No way. Nobody atta boys me. I’m Jimmy Goddamned Falconi. I’m nobody’s boy. Never.
“Atta girl.” I nudge her in the shoulder with my chest.
Around her guard, she says, “You fight like you’re in molasses. But you’re strong. You some kind of athlete?”
At first, I’m about to laugh. For about one second, I think I might be on Candid Camera or something. I mean, I can’t walk to the bathroom on an airplane without someone asking me to sign a cocktail napkin. I can’t get through Costco without someone asking me to sign their shopping list. Some kind of athlete?
I’m Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi. Quarterback for the Chicago Goddamned Bears. I’m somebody.
But there’s zero recognition in her eyes. No flicker of the fangirl. No sign she’s playing it cool either. To her, I’m just a guy getting his ass kicked by a girl in pink gloves.
“Hello?” She presses into my chin with a slow uppercut from the right.
I snap out of it. I don’t even know how to answer her. I play quarterback for the Bears. Ever heard of them? Or maybe, Ever heard of football? America’s Game? Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to start. I’ve never had to explain it. People just know. “Yeah, I like to work out.”
“Then act like it,” she says, all piss and vinegar, and puts her guard back in her mouth. Wham comes that jab into my gut. Pow goes the straight to my pecs. I loop one arm around her and pull her body in close, hooking the back of her neck with the crook of my elbow. I pull her closer, tighter, both arms around her, to get a feel for her…but also to give myself a goddamned break.
She struggles a little, trying to squirm free, but I see the smile on her face, the crinkle of the skin at her eyes.
I pull her head closer to mine. I must be twice her weight; no way is she going to get free now. We are the welterweight and the super heavyweight. Wrong class totally. But then she wedges her forehead in against my chest. I watch her wind up, her biceps flexing, and, boom-boom-boom.
Every time she connects, I lose a little more air and groan, “Fuck-fuck-fuck!”
“Atta boy!”
Fuck. That.
So I keep her pinned and she starts fighting harder, which makes me want to hang on to her more. I press my nose against her head. In her thick brown hair, I can smell her shampoo, her conditioner. Coconut.
While I’m distracted by that smell, thinking of sunscreen and ukulele music and drinks with umbrellas and her on a beach, she slips out from under my arms and pops up in my face.
Well, shit.
“What, you chicken? Gonna hit me back? Or do you want to dance around for an hour or two? Because I can totally do that. I just have to go home to feed the dog.” Whap-whap go her padded fists.
Oh no, no way. No way am I going to let a pretty little thing talk to me like that. I sniff hard and man up.
I give her a jab. A hook. A cross.
And she blocks me every damned time. Blocks me like she’s fought me before, or like she’s known all along what I’ll do when it comes down to it.
Fucking wax-on-wax off, one-two-three.
Pow-pow go her gloves into my side, and fuck. I think I feel those it in my spleen. Enough. Enough. Anger boils up through me like cheap vodka after a long night.
I’m Jimmy Falconi. And I’m gonna make this girl know my name.
I crack my neck side to side and get serious. I suck air through the holes in my mouth guard and get my fists up. I edge her into the corner and those eyes flash at me. She’s sweating hard and her mascara is smudged. Her hair is mussed and her skin is slick. It makes her look dangerous. Angry. I’d like to smudge that mascara a little more. In bed. Immediately.
But first, I’m going to show her who’s boss.
The more she works herself up, the hotter she gets. That’s when something catches my eye. There’s something written on the white cuffs of her gloves. All fuzzy, written in black marker:
On the right glove: HERE COMES…
On the left:…TROUBLE!
Whomp.
She nails me in the jaw with a haymaker, and my molars shake. “Come the fuck on,” I growl back at her, with my glove pressed to the side of my face.
She smacks her gloves together, and lowers her chin. “Are we sparring or chatting? Hit me!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Butterfly, bee. Whap, whap, whap. “I’m not going to break!”
I work my jaw open and closed a few times thinking, Okay. Fine. Fine. I didn’t think it was going to go like this, but I can roll with a hostile defense, sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. I give her the old elevator stare—up, down, up again—and get stuck on her belly button for a little too long. But then I get a game plan together. I figure I can hit her in the stomach. Not too hard, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know who’s in charge here.
Which would be me. Me, pussycat. Me.
Nudging the edge of her shoulder with my glove, I drive her backwards. Our eyes lock and I get this…this…prickle all through me.
This woman.
This one. Right here.
I want her. So fucking bad.
The fucking gym with its ten phones playing mariachi goes silent. The guys by the cooler egging her on go silent. It’s just her and me and the sweat dripping between us. Soft skin, sparkling eyes. She smells like a summer day and she’s looking at me in a way that no woman has ever looked at me. Ever.
Like she’s gonna own me and she knows it.
Which is bullshit.
She gives me a little lift of her chin and tightens her lips around the guard. She wipes her nose with her glove and then lowers her head. “Come on! You going to fight or are you just going to screw around?”
With my left hand, I jab her softly in the stomach. With the right, a play-hook to the jaw. I raise her chin on my glove so her eyes come up to mine. Then I pull her close, my arm around the back of her neck again. “You wanna screw around?” I say into her ear.
Bam, another hit to the stomach. “I haven’t even gotten started,” she answers.
Fuck it.
She wants to play? Fucking fine. I’ll play. I’ll play hard. I square up. But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky like no eyes I’ve ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ.
But I can take her. Yeah, I sure fucking can.
Probably.
I decide on a straight jab; a no-fail straight jab that I plan just hard enough to send her reeling but not hurt her, not actually injure her. I know the punch. It works in bar fights and brawls on the field. An all-American move. As I wind up, everything slows down. I’m 6’6”, 283 pounds, and I throw a football for a living. When I wind up, I wind up. As I do, she ducks, fast as fucking lightning. Greased. Elegant. Lethal. So as my arm is powering through the air, as my momentum gets caught behind 12-ounce training gloves, she pops back up like a goddamned whack-a-mole.
Those eyes flash again and she smiles so hard I can see her dimples.
Dimples. Oh, fuck.
I watch her shoulder tighten, her tricep pucker, and that’s when she lets me have it for real.
The punch comes from left to right, blocking out my view of everything. I don’t see the Mexican flag on the wall. I don’t see the graffiti mural over the windows. Nope. The universe turns bubblegum pink.
It doesn’t hurt, not at first, and as I’m flying backwards, airborne, I have just enough time to think to myself, I wonder if this is what a knockout punch feels like…
Before everything flickers to black.
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

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Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.
 
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RELEASE BLITZ ~ After We Fall by Melanie Harlow

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After We Fall
by Melanie Harlow

Publication Date: November 28th, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

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Synopsis:

Jack Valentini isn’t my type.

Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave.

Jack might be gorgeous, but he’s also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a “rich city girl” like me, and he isn’t afraid to say so.

But I’ve got a PR job to do for his family’s farm, so he’s stuck with me for ten days, and I’m stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles.

His huge, hard muscles.

Pretty soon there’s a whole different kind of tension between us, the kind that has me misbehaving in barns, trees, and pickup trucks. I’ve never done anything so out of character—but it feels too good to stop.

And the more I learn about the grieving ex-Army sergeant, the better I understand him. Losing his wife three years ago left him broken and bitter and blaming himself. He doesn’t think he deserves a second chance at happiness.

But he’s wrong.

I don’t need to be his first love. If only he’d let me be his last.

“Second chances are not given to make things right, but are given to prove that we could be even better after we fall.” —Unknown


 

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BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy

I love a good second chance story, whether the leading characters have known each other in the past or it’s just two people being given another chance at love and happiness.

I really liked both Margot and Jack from the off, even though to begin with he was a bit of a jerk towards her and at times he needed a bit of a kick up the backside! They were so very different but as the old saying goes, opposites attract.

Margot with her high heels, pearls, her lack of knowledge about anything to do with farming and her scone throwing abilities had me laughing, feeling all sorts of emotions and hoping like hell she got the happy ever after she so desperately wanted. She was feisty, strong and had such a big heart. She came to care deeply about Jack, knowing that she would never be his first love just wanting to be able to love him regardless.

Jack was such a deep character. He was broken, both in heart and spirit and had so many issues that he struggled to deal with that even though I wanted to yell at him at times, I felt so sad and sorry for him. He wanted to be loved and cared for but didn’t think or see that he was or could be worth it. He was so convinced that he had lost the one person meant to truly love him that he was unable to open his heart to the possibility of a second chance. Seeing him battle his heart and head and start to realise what he truly wanted had me on a bit of an emotional roller-coaster, desperately hoping that he could fight through his darkness and get to a brighter, happier place with someone to love!

The banter, verbal sparring, attraction, sexual tension and passion between the pair all made for superb reading. Seeing just how Jack interacted with his nephew was so cute – who knew a big, gruff farmer could be such a sweetheart.
I really enjoyed catching up with Margot’s besties Jaime and Claire and meeting Jack’s brothers and his sister-in-law.
After We Fall was well written, Melanie Harlow has a knack of pulling you into the story, bringing out the best (and if required, the worst) of her characters, making you feel so deeply for them, that she so easily manages to coax all of your emotions into play as you read.
It is a standalone but if you read Man Candy first you’ll understand Jaime and some of the phone conversations between her an Margot will make more sense. I can’t wait for Claire’s book to see how things work out for her….

I honestly CANNOT give After We Fall enough stars! This was, for me, a fantastic read. Melanie’s books are an auto-buy for me and I’d definitely recommend giving them a shot!


About the Author:

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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COVER REVEAL ~ It Started with a Kiss by Melanie Moreland

 

 

  Title: It Started with a Kiss

By: Melanie Moreland

 

Publication Date: January 23, 2017

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Cover Designer: Monark Designs

 

 
 

 
Are you interested in receiving a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review on Goodreads/Amazon?

You can sign up – HERE
 

It started with a kiss.
Then it became so much more.
Love at first sight.
Avery Connor doesn’t believe in it.
But what about love at first kiss?
A favor for a friend. Kiss a stranger and walk away.
But what if that favor, and that stranger, prove to be the turning point of her life?
What if that kiss leads to something more?
Dr. Daniel Stewart is certain it will.
He is determined to make her see him. To feel what he feels.
To have the effects of that kiss last forever.

A story about taking a chance, opening your heart to the moment, and falling in love.




~~ PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY NOW ~~
 

New York Times/USA Today bestselling author Melanie Moreland, lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her beloved husband of twenty-seven-plus years and their rescue cat Amber. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them. 

While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys travelling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip. 

 
Melanie delights in a good romance story with some bumps along the way, but is a true believer in happily ever after. When her head isn’t buried in a book, it is bent over a keyboard, furiously typing away as her characters dictate their creative storylines to her, often with a large glass of wine keeping her company.

 

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BLOG TOUR ~ Crown Jewels by Ella James

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Crown Jewels
by Ella James

Publication Date: November 20th, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis:

From USA Today bestseller Ella James…

After that close-up of his package on the sailboat in Morocco, TMZ started calling him Crown Jewels.

Not that I keep track of Prince Liam. Definitely don’t stalk him online like my friends do.
I’m out of that scene now. My family’s reality show might still be running, but I’ve been off-screen for a while. When people pass me on the sidewalk, they might squint, but most of them don’t scream “Lucy Rhodes” and ask about my love of Lucky Charms or how my broken toe healed.

Prince Liam—my stalking his Instagram—that’s just for fun. It’s my dirty little secret. Trust me, I’m the only woman in the world who doesn’t actually want him.

Except I’m back in the Hamptons for the first time in two years. I’m at a party, and Prince Manwhore is here as well. I tell myself that smile has no effect on me. That his ridiculous charisma is a parlor trick I see right through.

After our one night together, no one knows that I succumbed.

It doesn’t matter. It meant nothing.

Not until I see those two pink lines.

**
Crown Jewels is an 80,000-word contemporary romance novel with no cliffhanger ending.



Excerpt:

LUCY

I awaken in darkness.

The room is pitch black, and someone’s arm is locked around me. For a blind, horrific second, fear grips my heart, so hard and painful that I gasp.

And then I smell him. I’m not sure exactly where I am right at his moment. But I smell aftershave and soap, a little bit of sunscreen and a little bit of sweat, and my body knows it’s him.

Prince Liam.

Liam, prince of the Isle of Gael, is lying in this bed behind me. A few careful, quiet breaths and I’m pretty sure…he’s sleeping.

Holy Hello Kitty. Prince Liam is sleeping next to me. My body flushes, bliss and horror.

How’d we get here? What the hell is going on? And then I feel his fingers in my hair. His hand is in my hair—right now! He fell asleep rubbing my hair.

My eyes fly to the windows: dark. What time is it? My clutch is somewhere in this room. I’m not sure where.

I shut my eyes and try to keep my breathing even as I run the night’s events back through my mind. Downstairs, talking to the Playmate. Bryce. My body jerks at the memory, and I can feel Prince Liam’s body rock a little bit against mine. Big and wide and hard. He’s bowed around me like a shield.

Heat blooms in between my legs.

I freaked out, and he saw me. I embarrassed myself, walked in on some kind of threesome.

Why did he come back?

It’s his room, you moron. I’m probably in his guest room. I draw a deep breath in and feel his sturdy arm tighten around me. I feel his face against my neck, the roughness of his scruffy beard. Warmth spreads through me. Then he stirs some more and makes a low sound in his throat. And then I feel his mouth against my neck. His lips—

He’s kissing me.

I don’t mean to make a sound, but then I feel him press himself against my backside. Terror bubbles in me.

“Stop!”

I pull away, and he’s awake. His eyes, I see them in the dark. They’re wide. He pushes up on his arm and holds his big hand up.

I watch him rub his eyes. He looks around. He looks confused.

“You fell asleep,” I offer.

He blinks at me as if he didn’t understand my words. Then he reaches for me. He takes my hand and cradles it in his two hands. He looks into my eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asks me, voice low, words rolling with that Scottish-sounding accent of his.

“I’m fine.”

He shakes his head slowly, at least I think I see him do that. Then he’s simply staring at me. With those hazel eyes.

Dear God, he’s gorgeous.

His hand traces mine. Then he lies back down and pulls me down beside him. He wraps me up against his body, and I notice he’s not pushing his dick against me anymore.

“You smell good,” he murmurs. “You have pretty hair.”

“Are you drunk?”

I think I see his lips twitch. “I don’t get drunk.”

I turn around to face him. He pushes some hair off my forehead. Then he kisses me. It’s so gentle, so careful, I can’t help responding. He tastes like cinnamon, like liquor. His mouth explores mine, his tongue gliding past my own, his big hand in my hair again.

He kisses me until I can’t breathe, and then he pulls away. “Tá tú álainn.”

I frown.

He smiles, that gentle, gorgeous smile. “Gaelic.” He tips his forehead to mine. He says something else I don’t understand, then kisses the side of my mouth, his lips feathering gently over mine.

I feel his knee move, as if he’s shifting his hips, and I can’t help pulling him closer for another kiss.

I touch his shoulders as I kiss him, and I can feel his body tense under my hands. His tongue glides back into my mouth, and he moans.

Holy shit. I kiss him deeper and his body rocks against mine. His hands are on my head; he pulls me closer, till we’re pressed together, chest to hips.

He says something low and very soft, something that sounds like, “On all that is holy…”

Then his hand is on my shoulder, squeezing. His hand is squeezing, then he’s grasping my breast.

I grind myself against him, gasping between kisses. My body burns with heat and fear. My heart riots. Adrenaline almost overcomes me at the feel of his hard body up against mine, his chest pumping, his breath warm. I’m losing it when his hand leaves my breast and slides around my hip to cradle me against his body.

God, I’ve never been handled this way, as if…I’m everything. He’s rough then gentle, firm then tender, desperate all the while. I can feel the warmth of his breath, can hear the pattern of his ragged inhalations.

His scratchy cheek presses against mine, and I can feel his body heat. He leans away, his chest still pumping. I put my hand between his pecs. I can’t help it. He’s so…perfect. My fingertips wander to the seal above his heart, the royal tattoo he got when he was younger.

I trace my finger down his chest, and the prince’s abs harden. “Christ.” That was a flinch, I think.

I swear to God, I can feel the heat pulse in between my legs. Something overtakes me, something big and brash and heady: power.

I rub my fingertip over the hair that trails down toward his pants, and that’s when I see his stiff erection.

My brain explodes with memories of perfection wrapped in wet boxer-briefs. I’m not thinking. I just touch.

He sucks back a sharp breath. I trace the plump, perfect head, hating the fabric barrier between my hand and his skin. Liam groans, his length jutting toward me.

I look into his eyes and find them hazy. “Lucy…”

“You want me to touch it?” My voice is sultry, not my voice at all.

I’m rubbing him before he has the chance to answer. His breath catches. Then he moans low in his throat and starts to pant. His eyes are shut, I find as I rub his thick cock through his pants. His hand hovers over my mine as if he wants to grab me. His long fingers curl into a fist.

I drag my fingers down the length of him, surprised to find he’s even bigger than I thought. His heavy eyelids lift a little. My Lord, he’s fucking gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect male, and this one, shirtless, panting as he presses up against my hand—he turns me on so much I want to screw him.

Holy hell, I want to screw Prince Liam.

I try to grip him through his pants, fondle his balls, waiting for him to jump up and throw me on the bed. Waiting for him to scare me.

But he doesn’t.

He just locks his big fist up over my arm and leans his head back on the pillow, groaning through his locked jaw as I unbutton his pants and come to his black boxer-briefs. I can see his head so well. I see the rim of it. I rub a fingertip over it and he mutters a curse.

His hand uncurls, the side of his fingers touching my wrist. I reach inside his boxer-briefs and wrap my hand around him. Still, he doesn’t grab my arm. I watch his face as I firm up my grip and stroke him. I can feel his hips tremble. I fold his fly back, try to pull his briefs down. He lifts his hips and pulls them down himself. I look with wide eyes at what has got to be an eight-inch dick and the weighty balls below. Crown Jewels.

I touch his balls and watch them draw up underneath my fingertips. I run my hand from the base of his cock back up toward the tip. His eyes open on a deep breath.

“Fuck…”

Oh my God, is that a little bit of precum? I feel a rush of heat between my own legs as I blink at it. For the first time in two years, I clench. I feel greedy. Needy.

Holy hell, I have to have him.

My head spins as I climb on top of him, straddling his hips as his eyes rise to meet mine. He flexes beneath me, and a zip of fear streaks through me. That he’ll throw me off and get on top of me. That he’ll grab my wrists and squeeze. Instead, Prince Liam peers up at me with hooded eyes, smiling a pirate’s smile as his hand rubs my knee.

I pull my dress up and struggle with my thong. My hands are shaking too hard to pull it off. I rub myself against him, panting. Liam groans.

“Christ almighty…” His jaw is locked as he rasps, “Lucy.” Then he rips my thong.

He says something else in what I realize must be Gaelic. Then he’s reaching down, stroking himself. With the fingers of his other hand, he parts my lips. He rubs a finger over me, making me tremble.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful…”

I don’t know how he knows because his eyes are shut, but I love the way his face looks. Suddenly it’s all I can do to stay still. And then I can’t. I’m shaking as I pull his cock away from his amazing abs. My legs quiver as I rise up, holding his shaft, pushing his thick head against my entrance.

His lips are parted now, his eyes still shut. I sink down on him inch by slow, amazing inch and watch him writhe, knees coming up around me as I take him deep—so deep I can’t help crying out.

His hands squeeze my hips, not to hard. And then he’s lifting me off him, his muscular arms straining so my legs don’t have to. His powerful abs ripple with each thrust: he rises just a little, letting me sink down on him. I put my hands over his and use my legs to rise and fall, taking control of things. Taking control because I have to.

He doesn’t let me fully. Liam sets the pace, his big breaths punctuating the rhythm of our thrusting. I’m rising up, using the well-honed muscles of my thighs, but his hands around my hips are lifting, too.

When I sink, I lean over, pinching his nipples sometimes, reaching around behind myself to cup his balls. His groans are loud and ragged. His face is tense, almost pained, and I love it when I feel the goose-bumps on his diamond-chiseled hips.

Then he changes something up… Changes the angle. When he fills me up…I lose control. I can’t stop the sounds from pouring from my throat. Can’t stop the way I lean sideways against his raised knee, gripping it with my arm. I hear a whimper, and it’s mine.

“Oh God!” I’m so full. I don’t think I’ve ever been this full before…

“That’s right,” he murmurs, thrusting harder.

When he pulls out and lifts me up, I’m desperate for him, scrambling to get back on that huge cock. My skin tingles with sweat. My mouth is open; I can’t breathe—

I feel him harden, swell and tighten, stretching me. When I’m filled with him, I grind around.

“Oh my God!”

I’m right there on the edge. He draws me off him, and I fumble to grab onto his arms and press myself back down. My fingers graze his hips, and then he pushes me down hard. I’m filled so deep and full, my body starts to quake. My stomach quivers, and my eyes flip open just in time to find he’s watching me.

His lips are curved, his eyes lust-hazed.

I do the only thing I can think of to equalize the situation, reaching around behind myself again to roll his big balls in my shaking fingers. One roll, followed by a gentle tug. I feel his cock thump hard inside me, causing me to lean down on him. That’s where I lie as heat fills me: there across his flawless chest.

For just a second, his hands cup my face. His eyes linger on mine, his mouth still open with pleasure, his thick pecs rising under me.

“Luce. Goddamn.”

It’s an exultation.

I feel so good there on him, I can’t move for a long moment. He just came inside me, and it feels so right.

I marvel at how…fine I feel. How tired and good and…good.

I stroke my nails up his side. “Mmm.” I grin.

Liam laughs, a throaty sound.

I feel his lips on my forehead as he leans up, the quick swipe of his palm over my hair. “You are fucking perfect, Lucy Rhodes.”

He pushes up on one elbow, holding me against him for a moment, one big arm around me.

Then I’m easing off him, and he’s moving lithely off the bed. “Let me get you something.”

I sink into the covers, waiting for the fallout: for a shudder, for a sob. But nothing comes.

He returns smirking, and grins broadly when our eyes meet. Instead of handing me the warm, wet cloth, he delves under the covers, his knuckles grazing my belly as he spreads the cloth over me and lays his hand there, as if offering some wordless blessing over my vagina.

I start laughing, and he laughs with me.

“You’re a real prince, Liam.”

He grins. “I’ve been told.”

And it’s so natural, I don’t feel funny cleaning up under the covers with him there beside me.

I stretch out on my back, catching my breath. I’m thinking how sad I’ll be to get up when he lies beside me, his big shoulder bumping mine.

“You were incredible,” he says in a gravelly voice. And somehow, it’s not patronizing or weird. Just very, very genuine.

I giggle like a dumb teenager.

He turns over on his side, propping his head in his hand as he looks down on me. Then he lies back flat, wraps an arm around me, pulls me close, and kisses just under my ear. One of his legs rubs mine. He makes a soft, male sound, then falls asleep as if we do this every night.

I lie awake staring at him in the darkness. Who is this man? I run my open palm over his hair, which he let down sometime when I wasn’t looking. He relaxes just a little more against me, and I like it. That’s the last thought that I have before I wake up to an empty bed.

 


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About the Author:

Ella James is the USA Today bestselling author of fifteen teen and adult love stories. She’s an angst-a-holic who loves exploring difficult situations and the emotions of the people caught up in them. Also, smut. But always, always romance.

Ella’s obsessions include vanilla cream soda, hiking, other obscure, crunchy stuff like rock collecting, and the antics of her 2.5 little monsters. (Monsters 1 and 2 will meet Monster 3 in November).

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