Monthly Archives: November 2016

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 
 
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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.

Connect with Melanie:

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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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Purchase Links:

Amazon US:
Amazon UK:

 


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).

Connect with Ella:

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RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Christmas Candy by Celia Aaron

 
 
 
 
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A Christmas novella where everyone gets their just desserts.
Olive had a major crush on Hank in high school. She was the too-smart, slightly chubby girl who gawked as Hank ran track and made all the cheerleaders swoon. After high school, the two went their separate ways. Olive opened a yoga studio and swore off sweets while Hank traveled the world. No problem, right? At least there wasn’t a problem until Hank moved back to town and opened a candy shop across the street from Olive’s studio. Now, Olive will do everything she can to shut her old crush down. But Hank has other plans, and all of them end with an Olive sundae.

Author’s Note: This is a sweet Christmas treat that will leave you satisfied, yet desperate for a little taste of sugar.
 
 
 
 

 


 

 
“Can you call that number again, dear?” Mrs. Carmichael adjusts her enormous bifocals. “I couldn’t hear it over my cats. They meow something terrible when they’re hungry.”
I glance around at the cat-free common room. “Sure. I-14.” 

“Thank you.” She stares at her upside down bingo card.

 

“I wanted to ask you something last night, but I couldn’t quite work up the nerve.” His fingers linger against mine again as he hands me the next ball.

 

“What?” My voice comes out breathy as I call out the number. We should have had a bingo by now, but I’ve learned everything takes a little longer at the senior center.

 

He leans over, his warm breath tickling my ear. “I was wondering what your favorite candy is.”

 

Goosebumps break out along my neck and arms as I snatch the ball from his hands and announce the next number.

 

“I don’t like candy.” I glance at him. He’s watching me, eating me up with his eyes. Problem is, I can’t say the sensation is unpleasant. Quite the opposite.

 

“Come on. Everyone likes candy.”

 

“I don’t.” His nearness is throwing me off, and I stutter out the next number.

 

“You sure? I saw the way you looked at my candy apple.”

 

I huff out a breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

He moves closer, our arms touching. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” His conciliatory whisper has my heart stutter-stepping. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

 

I can’t focus on the numbers, not when he’s winding me up like a clock. It doesn’t help that this is the most distracted I’ve been over a man since … Since senior year when I stared at him running track instead of doing my homework. I’ve fallen into the same hole with the same guy, and I can’t seem to get myself free.

 

“Candy apples.” I keep my voice low.

 

“What?” God, his voice in my ear sends shivers shooting down my spine.

 

“I like candy apples the best.”

 

“I’d like to see you eat one of my candy apples. Extra caramel for you.” He hands me the next ball, his index finger skating along mine. “Something sweet on your tongue.”

 

My body goes up in flames as our eyes meet, and I call out, “O-69.”

 


 


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Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author.
She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.
 
Author Links
 

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SALE BLITZ ~ Naughty Holidays 2015 by Nicole Edwards

 

Title: Naughty Holidays 2015
Author: Nicole EdwardsGenre: Adult, Contemporary Romance,
Gay Romance, Romantic Erotica

Published: December 1, 2015

Because Naughty Holidays can be oh so Nice…

The readers voted and the winners for the 2015 holiday book are: Alluring Indulgence: Travis, Kylie, Gage; Sniper 1 Security: RT and Z; Club Destiny: Luke, Sierra, Cole. Come and see how they are heating up the holidays this year!

The Walker brothers are at it again…

Travis Walker won’t deny he has a competitive spirit, and this year, when his brothers decide to go all out with the holiday decorations, Travis is intent on winning this free-for-all.

What’s the best gift you can get for the man you love?

Ryan Trexler is hell-bent on getting his husband the best Christmas gift. One that will make Z think about him all year. Only he doesn’t have the slightest clue what to get him.

Spend New Year’s at the hottest fetish club in town

Luke McCoy has been known to throw a good party, but this year, he wants the New Year’s celebration at Devotion to be the best yet.

 


 

 




Available December 1st

Sneak-a-Peek at To Give and To Receive

#HudsonAndTeague #Pier70 #99cents

 





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BLOG BARRAGE ~ Ares (Guardians of Hades #1) by Felicity Heaton

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Ares
, book 1 in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot new paranormal romance series, Guardians of Hades, is now available in ebook and paperback.
To celebrate the release of Ares and Megan’s romance, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY and sharing sneak peeks of the book.

 

Enter the ARES international giveaway (ends December 11th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate by using the Rafflecopter form at her website, where you can also download a 4 chapter sample of the novel:

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Here’s more about the book and the sexy Greek god hero and his heroine…

 

Ares (Guardians of Hades Series Book 1)
Felicity Heaton

Prince of the Underworld and Lord of Fire, Ares was banished from his home by his father, Hades, two centuries ago and given a new duty and purpose—to keep our world and his from colliding in a calamity foreseen by the Moirai.

Together with his six brothers, he fights to defend the gates to the Underworld from daemons bent on breaching them and gaining entrance to that forbidden land, striving to protect his home from their dark influence. Caged by the manifestation of his power, held apart from those he loves by his own fire and starved of physical contact, Ares lives a cold existence driven by duty and the desire to return to his world.

Until his world collides with a daemon who steals his power and a mortal female who shatters the ice around his heart and awakens the true fire within him—a soul-stirring passion both dangerous and seductive.

Megan has wandered far from her home, driven from everyone she loves by the devastating realisation that she is different to them all. Unsure who to trust in the world, she keeps to herself, until a fateful stormy night brings a temptingly handsome warrior crashing into her life and into her heart—a warrior who seems to hold powers more frightening and marvellous than her own.

When the New York gate comes under threat, and Ares is put to the test, will he choose his duty and regain the power he needs in order to save his world or will he choose the desires of his heart and sacrifice his fire so he can be with the woman becoming his whole world?

 

ARES is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links to your preferred retailer:

 


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ARES – Excerpt

When the daemon returned, Ares would be ready to deal with him.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone into battle injured and drained, and it wouldn’t even be the worst. Life in the mortal world was making him soft. He had once battled a legion of daemons with one arm broken and several arrows lodged in his left thigh, and he had decimated them.

Ares smiled. The good old days. It had been centuries since he had gone to war together with his brothers, unleashing the hunger for violence and destruction that made the god his parents had named him after so proud of him.

He focused and the street whirled and disappeared, replaced by his apartment. He flicked the light on, illuminating the pale coffee-coloured walls and dark furniture in the open plan kitchen and living room. He looked down at his boots and the puddle already forming around them on his wooden floor, and toed them off and kicked them into the kitchen on his right. They tumbled across the tiled floor, hit one of the oak cupboards and stopped. He reached over his shoulder with his right hand, grabbed the back of his ruined wet black t-shirt, pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the tiles with his boots.

The water around his feet evaporated, steam curling off his already drying black jeans. He needed to get his mood in check before something bad happened.

He closed his eyes and drew in several deep breaths, holding each one before slowly expelling the air, and reined in his temper together with his power, restoring the usual rigid control he kept over it and stopping his flames from emerging. The heat that always surrounded him settled to a more manageable, and safer, level, and he released another breath, this one more a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was set his apartment on fire. Again. It had been a shitty enough night without that added cherry on top.

When he felt calm enough to maintain control over his fire, he walked into the open living room and pushed the second door in the wall to his left open. He switched the bathroom light on, turned and frowned at his reflection in the mirrored wall on his left above the vanity unit and sink.

He looked like hell.

The female daemon had done a number on him. Long gashes darted across his chest and forearms where she had caught him with her claws. He touched the deepest one of the three on his pectorals and beads of blood broke to the surface.

He frowned and the gold flecks in his eyes darkened to red, glowing against their earthy brown backdrop.

The daemon shouldn’t have been able to land a single blow on him, let alone several. He had been too complacent tonight. He had been dealing with low level daemons for so long that he had forgotten there were stronger ones out there, just waiting for him to drop his guard.

It wouldn’t happen again.

Ares stared at the tip of his right index finger and slowly released the iron grip he had on his power, allowing his control to slip little by little until the air around his hand shimmered and he could feel the heat of it against his chest. He slammed his hold over his flames back into place, locking them down at their current level and stopping them from burning out of control.

He ground his molars together, grabbed the edge of the oak vanity unit with his other hand to steady himself and drew his finger along the first cut across his chest. Fire blazed in the wake of his finger but he didn’t stop or make a sound, not until he had reached the end of the wound and had cauterised it.

He drew a deep breath, blew it out and flexed his fingers around the edge of the unit. His arm trembled and ached, his shoulder socket throbbing madly. Two more slashes to seal and he could rest. Pain tore through him with each one but it was necessary. He needed to regain his strength as quickly as possible and that meant helping his healing process along in his own way.

His finger reached the end of the final cut and he lowered his head, breathing hard to stifle the pain as he struggled with his power, wrestling it back under control until it was nothing more than an aura of heat around him. He could leave the cuts on his forearms. They were shallow and would easily heal without his assistance.

He flicked the steel tap on, waited until the water was frigid, and then doused his chest and arms with enough of it to clean the blood away. The water heated and steamed the second it touched his skin, and would have evaporated immediately if it hadn’t been ice cold. When the blood was gone, he settled his hands on the edges of the sink, leaning over it.

The water swirled as it reached the drain, ribbons of red streaking the maelstrom. Pain pulsed through him, stealing his strength and focus.

Motionless, he watched his blood snaking down his arms as it continued to trickle from his wounds, immune to his heat because it ran as hot as the rest of him, and then the sink, sliding down it to join the running water. It mesmerised him and time slipped past him as he lost himself in listening to his steady breathing and staring at the swirling water.

The taste of iron in his mouth slowly grew stronger, drawing his focus back to the world, and he probed each tooth with his tongue. It brushed one of his molars and the flow of blood increased. He closed his eyes, reached into his mouth and tugged the loose tooth free, turned it in his fingers, feeling nothing, and then let it fall. It clattered around the white porcelain bowl and stopped in the drain. It didn’t bother him. It would grow back in time.

His temper faded, emotions falling back into place and calm washing through him at last.

He rinsed his arms again, grabbed a white towel off the ones scrunched up on the side of the oak unit and patted himself dry, careful to avoid the cuts and keeping an eye on the soft material. With his temper back under control, it should be safe but he never could quite trust himself. It just took one wrong thought, or a momentary slip in concentration, and he had to go shopping for new linen or new towels.

Or sometimes a new couch.

His hands heated and he dropped the towel next to the sink. Tiny flames flickered over his fingertips. He shook his hand, willing them to behave, and they disappeared.

Ares turned on his heel, exited the bathroom and stalked straight towards his bedroom to his left. The world beyond the bank of windows that formed the exterior wall of his apartment was dark despite the lights from the streets and the buildings surrounding Central Park.

He banked left in his bedroom and slid the oak door to the closet open. He flicked on the light and his weapons greeted him, gleaming steel and death. The sight of them always brought a smile to his lips. There was nothing more beautiful than knives and guns.

Well.

Almost.

He stepped into the closet and ran his hand over the leather and metal circular shield hanging on the back wall, and then the hilt of the matching sword that hung behind it. Metal of the gods. It was warm beneath his fingers, vibrating with power that had him closing his eyes as he absorbed it.

How long had it been since he had wielded his blade?

Too long.

He missed the feel of it in his hand. The weight of it. Only steel forged by the gods could channel his power, and his father had deemed the weapon too destructive to use in the mortal world. Ares hadn’t been pleased to hear that, and neither had his brothers.

He pulled a circular silver and black amulet from the pocket of his jeans and hung it so it lay in the centre of his shield. It would be safest here while he went out to hunt.

He grabbed his black leather shoulder holster, backed out of the closet, switched off the light and slid the door shut. Two gleaming silver knives sat in their sheaths above two equally bright guns. He slung the holster over his bare shoulder and checked each gun, sliding the clips out to check they were fully loaded before slotting them back in and ensuring he had a round chambered.

It wasn’t often that he had to rely on mortal-made weaponry to assist him in his nightly battle against the daemons in his city, but it was reassuring to have them on hand in case he needed them. In his weakened state, they were a blessing from Zeus himself. He could use them to slow daemons down and it was far easier to kill with these weapons than it was with his power. Mortals turned a blind eye when they saw people fighting with guns. They tended to stare if he used his powers.

Ares crossed his dark bedroom to the long ebony chest of drawers that lined the dividing wall, set his weapons down and grabbed a fresh t-shirt. He slipped into the black top and then settled his holster around his broad shoulders.

Dry, armed and no longer bleeding. Things were looking up.

He veered right and skirted around the short length of wall that divided his bedroom from a smaller open room on the other side, walking between it and the red armchair of his suite. The single overhead light from the living room cast pale streaks over the fuel tank of his motorbike. He ran a hand over the paintwork as he passed, promising he would polish it soon, and then opened the French doors onto the balcony.

The city stretched before him, shrouded in rain and darkness, a panorama of a world on the edge.

Only it didn’t know it.

Only he and his brothers knew how close to destruction this world was, a curse from the Moirai so they never forgot or questioned the importance of their duty.

Its fate depended on them and their mission to protect the gates to the Underworld.

Their world.

He moved forwards to the railing, his eyes scanning the city, searching it and hoping that the feeling in his gut was wrong and he wouldn’t be needed again tonight.

Lightning forked across the sky, throwing the buildings into stark relief for a split second before descending them back into darkness. With each brilliant flash, he saw a different city.

The future of this world should they fail.

It balanced on the brink of ruin, the buildings hollow shells, torn and shattered, and the trees ablaze in the fiery darkness. The hot air carried the shrieks of the creatures responsible for the horror and the wails of suffering mortals.

Ares gripped the railing of his balcony, every muscle tensing as he caught flickers of that world in each lightning strike.

Rain lashed the dark scene, falling as water in this world and fire in the next. The wind drove it hard, so nothing could escape the inferno sweeping the land.

Lightning slammed into the earth again, causing another flicker between this rain-soaked night and what he and his brothers had termed the otherworld. It was getting worse and had been for the past decade. Something was growing in the darkness, a threat he and his brothers had been waiting to take form since the oracles had spoken of it to their father centuries ago.

Time was running out. Soon their unknown enemy would reveal themselves and the battle to prevent his world and this mortal one from colliding would begin.

A boom shook the ground and his head snapped up.

The lights across the city died, as though eaten by Nyx herself, plunging the landscape into shadows that seemed unholy and spoke to his senses. He spotted nothing in the darkness though. No sign of daemons or his prey.

Silence wrapped her arms around him, comforting and tender. Ares embraced her in return, savouring this moment of quiet, all too aware of the storm that was coming and that the battle this time would be to the death.

War was on the horizon.

Bloodshed was on his mind.

It was his duty.

He leaned forwards and glanced at the street several storeys below. Cars passed in both directions, their lights the only mortal-made ones in this dark world tonight. Thunder raged overhead and lightning ravaged the land. The scent of earth and rain filled the charged air.

He waited.

A blackout of this magnitude would draw daemons out. They would want to feed on the fear it created.

He would see to it they paid for their vile hungers.

This was his city. Maintaining the peace here and protecting it were his responsibilities, ever since his father had banished him and his brothers from the Underworld two centuries ago.

A dark curse rolled off his tongue in the mortal language and the lightning struck with more force, blazing purple-white and shaking the ground.

Had they sensed his desire to speak in his natural tongue?

The gods of Mount Olympus hated it when those with his power spoke the language of the Underworld on Earth.

Tranquil silence rolled over the world in the wake of the thunder.

The sound of his cell phone ringing shattered it.

It was muffled and distant. He had probably left it with his coat in the living room when he had gone out tonight. Whoever was ringing would give up soon and peace would be his again until the first daemon surfaced to take advantage of the storm.

The phone continued to fill the apartment with a sombre melody and then stopped.

Silence.

Ares sighed and returned his attention to his city. Each explosion of light revealed it to him. Not the otherworld this time but the current one, full of perfect buildings and unharmed nature, and no daemons crawling around. For now. They would emerge soon enough.

His phone started ringing again.

He grimaced.

They were persistent. Only one person could annoy him so thoroughly without trying. His anger rose again, his temperature rising along with it.

Closing his eyes, he reached a hand out behind him and pictured his phone. It whipped into his hand. Being a son of Hades had certain advantages. The power to manipulate his surroundings and the ability to teleport were just two of them.

The bright screen of his phone held a picture of his youngest brother grinning like a fool.

Ares wasn’t in the mood for Calistos’s usual brand of mischief tonight. He swiped his thumb over the option to ignore his call and waited for it to begin ringing again. Nothing annoyed his little brother more than being ignored. Once, Ares had declined a call three times in a row and Cal had teleported from Paris to New York just to give him an earful.

The phone remained silent this time. Maybe his brother had got the message.

He tossed the phone back into his apartment, using his power to guide it back to the crimson couch. The storm began to abate but the electricity showed no sign of returning. Would it be out all night? Now that would be the perfect end to a perfect night. He would be working until dawn to keep the daemons in check.

Rain continued to sweep across the city. It beaded on the back of his hands where they grasped the balcony railing. The droplets steamed and shrank, his body too hot for them to withstand.

Being a son of Hades had disadvantages too.

The heat inside him rose until the water on his skin evaporated. He took a deep breath and reined in his anger. The last thing he wanted to do was set fire to his apartment on a miserable night like tonight. He cursed the rain.

His insides tingled.

The rain slowed at last, causing the earthy scent of the storm to thicken, but it couldn’t mask the coppery stench of evil.

The daemon was back.

Ares rolled his shoulders, stepped back from the railing and turned his hands palm up. He channelled his power towards them. Fierce pale flames rose from his fingers, casting light over the balcony.

He grinned.

Time to hunt.



ARES
is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback.

Find all the links, a fantastic 4 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website:

 

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BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy

I’m a complete PNR junkie but lately I’ve found myself reading more contemporary romance than anything else (don’t get me wrong, that’s not a bad thing) so it was a delight to read ARES and be reminded just exactly what it is about #paranormalromance that I love!

Felicity Heaton was one of the first PNR authors I discovered when I stumbled upon the genre and from the first book I read I was sucked in to her world. Her writing is fantastic, her heroes are hot, fierce and protective, a bit growly and positively possessive of their lady loves but are also often a bit busted and broken (and c’mon, let’s face it, who doesn’t love a sexy book boyfriend that we think we could fix given half the chance?), her heroines often have their own issues to deal with but they’re also pretty kickass; strong, feisty and likable.

Ares and Megan were from two very different world but they had more in common than they’d have thought. Literally from their first meeting they felt a strong connection and attraction but both had a secret and their own reasons why they felt they shouldn’t act on their feelings.
I loved Megan, she was brave, determined, feisty and she knew what she wanted and was prepared to fight for it. Ares was a fabulous hero and definitely a new favourite BBF of mine from Felicity. He was drawn to Megan even before he lost his powers but he battled with what he knew he wanted for himself and what he knew was expected of him and due to the loyalty he felt to his brothers and the promise he had made to his father we were, for a time, unsure which path he’d choose; would it be with his heart or with his head.

This story was packed with everything you’d expect from Felicity. Great likable lead characters, a good supporting cast, humour, action and adventure, suspense, some twists and unexpected turns, loads of heat (quite literally where this pair were concerned!), romance, sexual attractions, passion and smokin’ hot sexy times!
The book is the beginning of what promises to be a very interesting and exciting story arc – one of the things I especially love with Ms Heaton’s books is the glimpses of the bigger picture that she gives us of as her stories unfold and her world building ability – even though it looks like most of the action in this series will take place in the mortal realm.

Ares is the first book in the Guardian of Hades series and I’m really looking forward to finding out more about the other brothers and how they’re gonna find the loves of their lives!

A definite red hot 5* read. A must for paranormal romance lovers.



Books in the Guardians of Hades paranormal romance series:

 

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Book 1: Ares

Book 2: Valen
 Coming in 2017


About the Author:felicityheaton-1

Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, her best-selling Her Angel romance series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm romance series or any of her stand alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try her Vampire Erotic Theatre romance series. Or if you like hot-blooded alpha heroes who will let nothing stand in the way of them claiming their destined woman then try her Eternal Mates series. It’s packed with sexy heroes in a world populated by elves, vampires, fae, demons, shifters, and more. If sexy Greek gods with incredible powers battling to save our world and their home in the Underworld are more your thing, then be sure to step into the world of Guardians of Hades.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

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BLOG TOUR ~ Train’s Clash by Jamie Begley

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Synopsis

Beware of what you wish for; it might just come true.

Train swore never to let a woman get under his skin unless it meant forever, and forever only meant belonging to The Last Riders. He had believed his one brief sexual encounter with Killyama was a hit it and quit it. Instead, her green eyes haunted his memories. Then when he tried to convince the woman he was serious as his “more the merrier” lifestyle became a painful reminder of the life he lived, Killyama used his own club against him to keep him from what he wanted.

Killyama was holding out for a man who could offer her forever, and Train wasn’t the forever kind of man. He was a Mr. Here and Now; the wicked warrior in her dreams. He might be a walking, talking sex machine, but she needed more than that. So, until he proved she was the only one sharing his bed, the only part of her body he was going to see was her ass walking away.

*WARNING*
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, multiple partners, violence, drugs, domestic discipline, and explicit language offends you.

 


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Teaser

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Excerpt

Train started to get up again. “Let’s go.”
“Whoa. Slow down, sailor. We need to settle the ground rules.”
“Rules?” Train’s brow furrowed. He knew it was too good to be true. Killyama never did anything easy.
“Rules. You shouldn’t have a problem with that. The Last Riders are big on rules, remember?”
“Tell me what they are, and I’ll decide.” He wasn’t about to let his dick and Killyama talk him into anything else that he would regret later.
“Protection. You use it with everyone.”
“That’s a given.”
“Even if they are giving you a blowjob,” she clarified.
“Have you lost your mind? I’m not putting a condom over my dick when a woman gives me a blowjob.” Shaking his head vehemently, he made himself stop when she gave him an unblinking stare.
“Then don’t expect me to go down on you without one.”
Train gritted his teeth. “It’s not like I would go to you right after being with another woman—”
“I’m giving you a choice. Either you can get all your blowjobs from other women, or my mouth is the only one that’s going to be sucking you off.” She shoved aside the bowl of nuts he had been nibbling on to push the nearly empty bowl of pretzels she had been eating toward him.
Train stood up without a word, going to the bar. “Give me a whiskey.”
“You never drink whiskey,” Mick commented, reaching for the bottle.
“Give me a double.” Train took out his wallet, paying for his drink before going back to the table where Killyama was leaning back in her chair, legs crossed at her ankles.
Train sat down, downing his shot. “Any of the women in the club will give a blowjob anytime I want, so you can scratch that.”
“Fine. I’m better. But if that’s what you want, it’s no skin off my nose.”
Reminding himself he didn’t hit women, he started to get up again, but Mick beat him to the punch, setting a bottle of whiskey on the table.
“You looked like you needed it.”
When he started to reach for his wallet, Mick shook his head. “Shade said it was on him.”
Shade was at Viper’s table. The brothers were amusing themselves by watching the show.
“Tell you what,” Killyama continued when Mick left. “I’ll give you one, and then you can decide. How’s that?”
Train reluctantly nodded. “You’re not going to go all psycho when I choose other women instead?”
“You won’t,” she replied confidently. “But no, I won’t go psycho.”


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AboutTheAuthor

Jamie Begley grew up in a very small, and a very rural town in Kentucky. Growing up poor was hard but she would go back if she could just to get that feeling of going to the corner and popping open a soda.

For now her days are spent writing, writing, and writing.

She would like all her fans to know one thing, “All my books are written for one purpose- the enjoyment others find in them, and the expectations of my fans that inspire me to give it my best.”

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