Category Archives: Excerpt

CHAPTER REVEAL ~ Touched by Mara White

-Does your sister let you touch her, Gemini?
-Barely, but, yes, more than anyone else. I remember even in preschool when the teacher would grab her hand, she’d stare at the spot where their skin connected as if it were an affront to her existence. Just stand there and glare like she wanted to hurt someone.
-Junipera suffers from a rare phobia.
-Please, what does June not suffer from?
-When did she start chasing storms?
-In third grade she started obsessing about the rain. Full blown? I’d say after hurricane Katrina she never looked back. And she didn’t just chase them, June became those wild storms.

Junipera and Gemini Jones, Irish twins born during the month of June, survive a childhood of neglect and poverty by looking out for one another. Destined for a group home, the girls are rescued by a rich aunt and uncle who move them from Northern Minnesota to Fairfield, Connecticut. One sister thrives while the other spins out of control. A violent assault leaves Gemini searching for clues, but what she finds might be questions that are better left unanswered.

Coming September 25th

August 28th, 2005

June drove almost all night. The farthest south she’d ever been was Oklahoma, going after a tornado, and she’d flown past the Louisiana state line around four in the morning. She wasn’t exactly sure where she would stay since she’d heard on the radio that all of greater New Orleans had been placed under a mandatory evacuation order. Experience told her that there would be at least one hotel open downtown where reporters were holed up. She’d followed their lead before, pretending to be chasing the story and not the storm. They usually had the best intel and she would leech off of them if she could. The storm had been given a name when she turned into a hurricane—Katrina, they called her, and she’d become a category three when she hit land in Florida. But now she had free rein over warm open water. That meant her hunger would gain and when she touched Louisiana, she’d do it with a vengeance. She was expected to hit land around six in the morning, as a category five. June had never actually seen a five before, but she knew roofs, cars and trees would go flying through the air like paper dolls, sucked up into the vortex and spit out indiscriminately.
Traffic snaked away from the Gulf in impossibly long lines of chrome and glass, rubber tires packed full of momentum wishing they could go faster. June had the speed they wanted as hers was one of the very few cars racing in the opposite direction. She came down I-55, and when she hit the I-10 bypass, the seriousness of the evacuation became apparent. Anyone who could was getting the hell out of New Orleans.
Storm excitement felt very much like a hormone—tipsy, punch-drunk and out of control. June got high off the anticipation; she tuned out the radio and the long line of evacuees and listened to the storm. She spoke its language. June lowered the windows in the Beamer so she could feel the pressure in the air. Her blood surged in her body like the ocean tides do in response to its pull. Her extremities tingled; so did her nose. She could taste the storm on the tip of her tongue, like a spike, a live wire, a sharp blade laced with coppery blood. Katrina called to her and June’s thigh muscles quivered.
June laid into the gas. Sometimes municipal law enforcement would block incoming traffic as well. June knew how to pose as a news reporter, but she wasn’t the most convincing candidate. Stringy blonde baby hair, lithe body like a cattail reed, clothing that was two sizes too big for her. She looked more like a painter or a homeless person despite driving a BMW. But her passion was always convincing, and her hope was that if Katrina was as big as she promised to be, whoever was watching would be too distracted to waste precious energy on just one life when hundreds of thousands were at stake.
“You a chaser?” the man asked her. He was a plainclothes officer, or maybe a reporter? She couldn’t be sure. He was the third person to stop her since she’d made it into the abandoned city. Anyone left on the streets was in transit, looking for a way out. More than one person had flagged her down and asked for a ride to the Superdome.
“No, I report to the Weather Channel directly,” June snapped. She stuck her anemometer on top of her small rolling suitcase. “I’ve got a room at the Riverside Hilton,” she said. She’d parked Uncle Ben’s BMW in the closest parking garage, reserved the room with his Mastercard. The receptionist only asked her if she knew there was a city-wide mandatory evacuation in progress. June looked up at her as if she were insulted. She smacked a press card on the desk. It wasn’t hers and the receptionist didn’t check it.
The cop or reporter was sold with the card. He figured hustlers or chasers couldn’t afford digs like hers. She walked briskly past him and flashed him her key card. What was he going to do? Arrest her and take her to jail? They had bigger things to worry about. This city was about to get slammed and everyone who’d stayed knew their lives would be in danger.
There were maybe a hundred or so of them in the Hilton. June recognized all the chasers, and not just because she’d seen them at other storms. It was their wily nature, their eyes holding the spark instead of the dread that was written all over the faces of the real press in the crowd. Some were there for the historic record and others, like Junipera, were there for the fix.
The wind started to scream at around eleven that evening. June wrapped her camera and her meter tightly in Saran Wrap, then stuck them in Ziploc bags along with her paper and pens. She packed all of the tiny water bottles and soda, peanuts and pretzels from the mini fridge into her backpack. Rolled up her blue tarp, Swiss Army knife, extra pair of underwear, waterproof pants and windbreaker and stowed them alongside the food.
The rain lashed the windows and splashed against them in sheets as if her hotel window were the windshield and she was moving slowly through a vigorous carwash. June stepped outside onto the balcony around two in the morning; the rain seemed to have died down but the wind was picking up, the trees across the way bending and straining, at times leaning almost horizontally. Her anemometer picked up wind speeds over eighty miles per hour. It’s the eastern side of the hurricane that packs the power punch. When that came calling, the hotel would be bending like the trees.
The television in the room blared with the constant evacuation warnings. June watched the Doppler radar image on a loop, circling toward the city like a hanging jaw going from red to purple. Hungry, angry wind and water were coming. June filled the bath tub, reinforced the metal stopper with Saran Wrap, did the same to the sink. She plunked down on the bed, splayed her limbs wide and stared at the ceiling.
The demon bared its teeth, and the windsong progressed from scream to roar, drowning out the warnings on the television. The beast was in the room, she was everywhere, surrounding them. June flinched every time she heard glass pop and shatter.
The window shook with the ferocity of a King Kong tantrum. Junipera imagined the tall Hilton as a toy in a child’s diorama reproduction of the French Quarter. Her fingers dug in and she held tight to the edge of the mattress. The room went black and the television silent when the power failed. The roar got louder, filling up her ears to find a way inside her skull.
At six-thirty in the morning her windows finally burst; the shades flew into the room and danced a madcap jig, wrenching themselves from the sliding track. June watched, eyes wide, as the one on the left took flight, a flash of soaring white in the dark sky before it flew out of sight. She crawled along the carpeted floor that was now soaked in brackish water, rolled to her back and filmed the macabre sky. The center of the hurricane looked like the center of a starfish, opening and beckoning, then folding in on its own hungry embrace. If there were Gods they were angry, monsters immune to the rules of give and take. June’s ears popped with the pressure while debris flew over her head, sometimes inches from her face. Then the rain began to plop down again in enormous drops. She stuck her camera under her shirt.
No sun rose and daybreak came in without color. From white to grey to a drab blue, the subdued tones of pigeons colored the horizon. When the roar finally moved far enough west to quiet, her ears still buzzed with its scream as if it had taken up house in her head. June could hear the beating of propellers—Army, she assumed, and not meteorological. The sound of periodic gunfire she decided to tell herself was exploding transformers and not ruthless people taking advantage of a ghost city with only a weary skeleton crew to protect it. She washed her face and armpits in the water she’d saved in the sink. Brushed her teeth, spitting in the toilet. She drank from the bathwater as if it were a baptismal font. It tasted as warm as the humid air around her.
It was still a good storm raging outside but June figured she’d head to the command center and hang with the reporters, hear their assessment of the damage. Running her fingers through her tangled hair was the best she could do for appearances. Nobody would care. The room, which had probably been a continental breakfast concierge haven, was now buzzing with reporters using an antiquated form of dial-up to communicate with the greater world. With a crashed electrical grid, the means for direct communication were severed. Someone had made coffee from instant crystals and bathwater. June helped herself to two mugs full as she listened to their chatter and took notes. Analog reporting, they were relaying messages like it was 1984. June heard reports of levees breeched, ruptured, possible flooding, but no one seemed to know for certain. She left the command center and went back to her room, pulled on her waterproof pants and rain boots, and put a sweater on under her windbreaker even though the humidity was stifling. She walked out the door with nothing more than her equipment and tiny rations in a backpack.
“Which way is the ninth ward?” she asked the security guard standing by the sliding glass doors. He looked her up and down reproachfully and Junipera tried to stand even taller than her already generous five feet ten inches.
“To your left. It’s a long walk, and believe me, from what they’re saying you don’t want to go there. Head to the Convention Center instead.”
“Thanks,” June said. She stepped out into the dense fog and turned left.
“There’s still debris flying. Hurricane ain’t over yet!” the security guard shouted after her.
She disappeared from his view, swallowed up by the insatiable mouth that wasn’t yet finished feeding on New Orleans

Mara White is a contemporary romance and erotica writer who laces forbidden love stories with hard issues, such as race, gender and inequality. She holds an Ivy League degree but has also worked in more strip clubs than even she can remember. She is not a former Mexican telenovela star contrary to what the tabloids might say, but she is a former ballerina and will always remain one in her heart. She lives in NYC with her husband and two children and yes, when she’s not writing you can find her on the playground.

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RELEASE BOOST ~ Lucky Number Eleven (Expose vol 4 2017) by Adriana Locke

Sep 13

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

Title: Lucky Number Eleven
Author: Adriana Locke

Genre: Romantic Comedy/Sports Romance

Release Date: September 7, 2017

Blurb

People say not to believe the things you read in magazines, but you know what? Most things you’ve heard about me are probably true.

I totally banged the reporter in the locker room after the championship game last year.

Those pictures in Expose from last summer? Those were not modified.

I’m also not really six-foot tall. (But let’s keep that between us.)

Now, I know you’re wondering about that last Expose headline—the one about me and my teammate (and ex-best friend) Finn Miller’s sister, Layla James. That one is a little more complicated.

Here’s the thing: I’ve played football my whole life. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to adjust when the game changes. And if there’s one thing I always do, it’s find a way to win.

Granted, the stakes are higher. The playbook has changed. There’s more on the line than (another) MVP title. But guess what hasn’t changed? Me. I’m still Branch “Lucky” Best and I’m not about to fumble this one.

Grab a seat and a subscription to Expose. I’m about to make some headlines. (Again.)

A sexy, swoon-filled standalone novel.

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AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Check out Adriana’s website for giveaways to celebrate this release!

Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/adrianalocke/playlist/7uVR6DSz4hdtv07Sjq0m99

Excerpt

“One question,” Poppy interjects, looking at Branch. “What position are you?”

“I typically like the bottom so I can watch—oomph,” he says, getting another elbow from Finn. “Wide receiver. Why?”

Looking at
Poppy, I can’t help but laugh as her eyes light up.

“You got a problem with wide receivers?” Branch asks.

“You do,” Finn interjects, giving me a narrowed glare. “They aren’t any better than quarterbacks.”

Branch looks from me, to Finn, and back to me. “Why do we not like quarterbacks?”

“My sister was dating Callum Worthington.”

“No shit?”
His face puckers like he just bit into a lemon. “How in the hell did that cocksucker end up with you?”

“He didn’t. We’re not together anymore.”

Branch’s eyes heat, the look causing my pulse to quicken. “I’m not a bit sorry to hear that.”

“You better forget you heard any of that,” Finn warns. “This is my sister, Branch. Not a cheerleader or reporter or some chick from a dating app. Got it?”

“Finn, relax,” I say, shoving a swallow past the lump in my throat. “I appreciate the big brother spiel, but I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” he says, pulling his gaze away from Branch. “But you can’t handle him.”

Author Bio

USA Today and Amazon Top 10 Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books.
After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.

Please contact Adriana at www.adrianalocke.com. She loves to hear from readers.

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RELEASE BOOST ~ I Want (Enamorado #2) by Ella Fox

Sep 13

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

Title: I Want
Series: Enamorado #2
Author: Ella Fox

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 8, 2017

Blurb

Billionaire businessman Alejandro Cruz detests the dating process and is perfectly content to stay single. But that all changes the moment the quirky house sitter from next door falls into his arms, and his immediate instinct is to hold on tight and never let go. California girl Kaya Porter has a “just say no” approach to dating. No matter how sexy and irresistible Alejandro is, she vows not to fall for him. Alejandro has other plans. This sexy Spaniard knows what he wants, and there’s nothing he won’t do to make Kaya realize that they belong together. Will Alejandro get the girl or will he be left wanting more than Kaya is willing to give?

I Want is book two of the Enamorado (In Love) series. Each book will feature one of the Cruz brothers and can be read as a standalone.

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AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

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Excerpt

“Climb gates around here often?” he asked, no censure in his voice. I realized he spoke English as fluently as he spoke Spanish.He was clad in navy basketball shorts, a pair of Nike running shoes and he was just sweaty enough for me to realize he’d likely been working out. I swear I was hypnotized by all of his exposed skin, so much so that I could just about remember my own name at that moment. I’d have blamed the fall for my dazed and confused frame of mind but that wasn’t it at all. It was purely because of him—the sexy Spanish-speaking god who’d saved me from certain harm. My eyes trailed along his muscular but lean body hungrily as I catalogued just how ridiculously gorgeous he was. I was hypnotized by his six-pack and the set of V-cut muscles I had an insane urge to trail my fingers over.

I’d have kept right on staring had he not cleared his throat. I cringed as I came back to reality and realized he’d asked a question I hadn’t retained.

“Um, huh?” I asked, perfectly clueless.

“I was asking if you’re a professional gate climber,” he said huskily.

“No, I—”

“She’s really fine after a fall from that height?” the officer asked as he came through the gate.

“She never hit the ground,” my savior said, “since I caught her.”

The cop looked almost as impressed as I felt. I’d have heaped praised onto the stranger who saved me had I not remembered that I needed to be focused on a more pressing concern.

“So now that I’m on this side I really need to get my—”

The officer pinned me with a look that left no doubt that he was in charge. “Miss, please remain silent while I work out what’s going on here.”

I pursed my lips and tried to contain my annoyance. I knew he was just doing his job but all I cared about was finding Elvis.

The officer turned back to the Spanish model—I naturally assumed he modeled because he looked like he belonged in sensual looking black and white ads for men’s cologne. You know the kind of ads I’m talking about, right? There’s always a sexy guy giving you the let’s have all the sex look with a set of eyes that are clearly attempting to hypnotize you into buying something.

He was at least six feet tall and had a head full of thick, dark hair. His face was perfectly proportioned from forehead to chin, and I could find nothing that didn’t appear to be symmetrical. He had a ridiculously sexy closely trimmed beard that I wanted to trace with my fingers and his jaw was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I turned crimson when my eyes trailed up and met his and I realized he was observing me—which meant he knew I’d been staring at him. Again.

I bit my lip and tried not to blush as I blinked like an idiot. I was relieved to have a reason to look to the police officer when he cleared his throat to get our attention. “Are you the one who called about the disturbance down the side of the house?” he asked.

I couldn’t resist the urge to let my eyes wander back to the Spanish god. I knew just enough Spanish to determine that if his looks were rated on the salsa scale he’d be called el más caliente.

His eyes were on me as he answered the cop. “My brother called, yes.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Alejandro Cruz.”

Even his name was sexy. My skin felt hot and prickly under his gaze. Anxious for a reprieve, I looked back to the officer.

The cop nodded as he took note of it on his pad. “And your brother’s name?”

“Rafael Cruz.”

“And you?” the cop asked with a head nod toward me.

“Kaya Porter.”

“Can you spell that?”

“K-a-y-a,” I answered.

“That’s a weird name,” the officer said as he wrote it down.

I wasn’t sure if he was being rude or not so I shrugged and said nothing. Alejandro growled something under his breath that I couldn’t understand. A shiver went down my back at the way the words rolled off his tongue. His Spanish accent fascinated me. I’d never been one to care one way or the other about a man’s voice, but his did things to me. I wondered if audio erotica was a thing. If it were, I would pay a subscription fee to hear him talk all day.

“So were you trying to escape or get in?” the officer asked, ruining my good fantasy about an Alejandro Cruz dirty talk subscription service.

“I was trying to get in,” I answered stiffly, annoyed that the officer had already forgotten everything I’d said, “I told you—”

“No, no, she is not the disturbance,” Alejandro interjected. “My brother thought someone was trying to steal God only knows what from the exterior of the house. He was asleep and heard something outside his bedroom window and panicked. He shouldn’t have called the police—it’s animal control that we need. Some dickhead bird went through the trash that my brother forgot to secure and he’s been leading him on one hell of a chase around the yard.”

My eyes narrowed and my hands went to my hips as I stared down the model. “Don’t talk about my little buddy like that,” I snapped.

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Author Bio

Ella Fox is the USA Today Bestselling Author of The Hart Family Series, Consequences of Deception, The Catch Series and The Renegade Series. When she’s not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country. Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh. Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and watching comedy movies.

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SNEAK PEEK ~ DEAR BRIDGET, I WANT YOU by Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland

Sep 13

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

Dear Bridget,

I’m writing this letter because it’s highly doubtful I’ll ever garner the courage to say this to your face.

So, here goes.

We’re totally wrong for each other. You’re the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I’m just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England.

But here’s the thing… for some bloody reason, I can’t stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.

I want you.

The only reason I’m even admitting all of this to you right now is because I don’t believe it’s one-sided. I notice your eyes when you look at me, too. And as crass as I appear when we’re joking around about sex, my attraction to you is not a joke.

So, what’s the purpose of this note? I guess it’s a reminder that we’re adults, that sex is healthy and natural, and that you can find me just through the door past the kitchen. More specifically, it’s to let you know that I’m leaving said door cracked open from now on in case you’d like to visit me in the middle of the night sometime.

No questions asked.

Think about it.

Or don’t.

Whatever you choose.

It’s doubtful I’ll even end up sliding this letter under your door anyway.

–Simon

ADD TO GOODREADS

Dear Bridget, I Want You will be available on all platforms on September 18^th!

Pre-orders are available at the following:

iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Google Play | Amazon paperback

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Sign up for mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live

Every time I considered leaving my room, I would grab the framed picture of Ben and stare at it. The urge to go to Simon was so strong; I basically hadn’t put down the framed photo of my deceased husband in an hour. I was lying in my bed, holding a picture of a dead man while fantasizing about one who was very much alive and in the other room. With the door cracked open waiting for me. There was one part of Simon’s note that I just kept reading over and over.

I want to make you come. Hard. I want you to get lost in me and I want to hear you say my name over and over while we fuck.

While we fuck.

While we fuck.

I was pretty sure that Ben had never used the word fuck like that before. Did we even fuck? We made love, sure. Our sex life was normal—at least, I think it was normal. Don’t get me wrong, the passion wasn’t the same as when we first got together. But after ten years, both of us working full time and raising a child, it was normal to have some of the desire dwindle, wasn’t it?

While we fuck.

I looked at the picture of my husband and sighed. We didn’t fuck. Not even in the beginning. And I felt guilty for that now. Maybe we should have been fucking. I certainly didn’t do anything to entice him to want me the last few years. Was it my fault our sex life had gotten boring? I rested the picture of Ben over my heart and laid my hand over it. I could feel my heart beating out of control beneath my fingers.

Shutting my eyes, I tried to force thoughts of Simon from my mind. But it was no use. Visions of his hard, sculpted body hovering over me had infiltrated my brain. So, here I was, a thirty-three-year-old, single mother lying in my bed all alone with a picture of my dead husband held to my heart while I visualized fucking another man.

Fucking.

Not making love.

I needed my head examined.

After two hours and no sleep in sight, I decided the only way I was going to be able to get any rest was if I got everything I was feeling off of my chest. Flicking on the light, I carefully set the framed photo of my beloved Ben on my nightstand and then opened the drawer and dug out a pen and piece of pretty stationery. I would write down my thoughts to clear my mind. I had no intention of actually giving the letter to Simon, so there was no reason to filter anything I said.

Dear Simon…

★★★★

We hope you enjoyed this preview!

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author of thirteen novels. With over a million books sold, her titles have placed on the New York Times Bestseller list seventeen times. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 12-year-old girl with autism (the inspiration for the character Callie in Gemini) and a 10-year-old boy. Penelope, her husband, and kids reside in Rhode Island.

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Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times Bestselling author. With more than a million and a half books sold, her titles have appeared in over eighty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in seventeen languages. She lives in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

Website | Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Other books from Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward:

Cocky Bastard
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1LfN3fc
iTunes: http://apple.co/1PffE2J
B&N: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO

Stuck-Up Suit
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1S3LnpZ
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57
B&N: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV
Kobo: http:// bit.ly/1RJdUif

Playboy Pilot
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2d5I5rS
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf
Nook: bit.ly/2caXPEK
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2cJDXO1

Mister Moneybags
Amazon http://amzn.to/2oTaaHf
Barnes & Noble http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m
iBooks http://smarturl.it/3y1tuq
Kobo http://smarturl.it/qqf5ho

Other books from Vi Keeland:

Standalone novels

Beautiful Mistake
Amazon eBook http://amzn.to/2uoeoJN
iBooks http://smarturl.it/20x53a
B&N http://smarturl.it/n8jey6
Kobo http://smarturl.it/1btxsz

Egomaniac
Amazon: http://smarturl.it/b1gi74
iBooks: http://apple.co/2fIsmvC
B&N: http://smarturl.it/t4ohsv
Kobo: http://smarturl.it/azmhq9

Bossman
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2a8D5B6
iBooks: http://apple.co/25x2jyX
B&N: http://bit.ly/29sL4H2
Kobo: http://bit.ly/29lW19I

The Baller
Amazon: amzn.to/1PBF2hG
iBooks: http://bit.ly/iBooksBaller
B&N: http:// bit.ly/BarnesBaller
Kobo: http:// bit.ly/KoboBaller

Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)
http://www.amazon.com/Left-Behind-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00OJM92LI/

First Thing I See
http://www.amazon.com/First-Thing-See-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00AWXY3HG
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/first-thing-i-see-ms-vi-keeland/1114703332

Life on Stage series (2 standalone books)

Beat
http://www.amazon.com/Beat-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00ZOMUV12/ http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beat-vi-keeland/1121715501 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/beat/id983959123 https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/beat-5

Throb
http://www.amazon.com/Throb-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00SS2RYBU
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/throb/id948747986
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/throb-vi-keeland/1121112695
https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/throb-4

MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books)

Worth the Fight
http://www.amazon.com/Worth-Fight-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00FLG5B9S
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-the-fight/id805540252
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-the-fight-vi-keeland/1117014180
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-the-fight

Worth the Chance
http://www.amazon.com/Worth-Chance-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00I2UKQOK
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-the-chance/id813714461
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-the-chance-vi-keeland/1118634058
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-the-chance

Worth Forgiving
http://www.amazon.com/Worth-Forgiving-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00MWL78EG
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-forgiving/id906130022?ls=1&mt=11
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-forgiving-vi-keeland/1120173153
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-forgiving

The Cole Series (2 book serial)

Belong to You
http://www.amazon.com/Belong-You-A-Cole-Novel-ebook/dp/B00BUTCXLE/
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/belong-to-you/id639401754
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/belong-to-you-vi-keeland/1114962845
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/belong-to-you

Made for You
http://www.amazon.com/Made-You-A-Cole-Novel-ebook/dp/B00DPWVKS6
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/made-for-you/id84550637
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/made-for-you-vi-keeland/1115883225
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/belong-to-you

Other books from Penelope Ward:

Drunk Dial
Amazon http://amzn.to/2fXfzKn
iBooks http://apple.co/2tq7dRz
Nook http://bit.ly/2xeEH2H
Kobo http://bit.ly/2ihXnMD
Audio http://amzn.to/2fWnsQg

Mack Daddy:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWzE1S
iTunes: http://apple.co/2iNrIPj
B&N: http://hyperurl.co/aiypfj
Kobo: http://hyperurl.co/r3hv19

RoomHate
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TksrpE
iTunes: http://apple.co/1PgsvE7
B&N: http://bit.ly/1PLGnSL
kobo: http://bit.ly/1POvSnW

Stepbrother Dearest
Amazon http://amzn.to/1mFNMeg
ITunes: http://bit.ly/YER0mT
B&N: http://bit.ly/1taMFjG
kobo: http://bit.ly/1fJaaBs

Neighbor Dearest
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2aS8BPa
iTunes: http://apple.co/29mC6L8
B&N: http://bit.ly/2akQ2aq
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2axt1SY

Sins of Sevin
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1F9tbc3
iTunes: http://apple.co/1K8mzGg
B&N: http://bit.ly/1hTKAKE
kobo: http://bit.ly/1OaGY3D

Jake Undone
(Jake #1)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1dJrHBC
iTunes: http://apple.co/1fJayQ8
B&N: http://bit.ly/1obAwJ6
kobo: http://bit.ly/1SPKl0M

My Skylar
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1obOG2F
iTunes: http://bit.ly/SLNOTR
B&N: http://bit.ly/SLO1qi
kobo: http://bit.ly/1kNrtAB

Jake Understood
(Jake #2)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GFdves
iTunes: http://apple.co/1DQQwgC
B&N: http://bit.ly/1FwJC0z
kobo: http://bit.ly/1LQ7Fvk

Gemini
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1vgk1SE
iTunes: http://apple.co/1QTaONj
B&N: http://bit.ly/1KfmLHD
kobo: http://bit.ly/1BGJ2wu

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BLOG TOUR ~ Dirty Filthy Rich Love by Laurelin Paige

Sep 12

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

Dirty Filthy Rich Love by Laurelin Paige

Release Date: September 11th

Dirty Filthy Rich Love is LIVE:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2nC5DYg

Amazon International: myBook.to/DFRL

iBooks: http://apple.co/2ojC4ZS

BN: http://bit.ly/2vonRPc

Kobo:http://bit.ly/2vQXTHi

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2hEeOCS

Start the Duet TODAY:

Dirty Filthy Rich Men (book 1):

https://laurelinpaige.com/dirty-filthy-rich-men

Dirty Filthy Rich Boys (free series starter):

https://laurelinpaige.com/dirty-filthy-rich-boys

Blurb:

I’ve discovered Donovan Kincaid’s secret.

It’s dirty and filthy and rich – as dirty and filthy and rich as he is – and it haunts me as much as he ever did.

Even after knowing what I know now, I still want to talk to him, to touch him. But there’s an ocean between us, and I’m not sure it can be crossed with something as easy as a phone call or a plane ride.

Yet I’m willing to try.

He doesn’t know this yet, but this time I’m the one with the power. And maybe – just maybe – if the air were cleared and all our secrets bared, there could still be a chance for us.

And this dirty, filthy thing between us might end up being love after all.

Excerpt:

He took another step toward me, and I started to step back, but there was a counter behind me, so I had to stay put. And maybe I wanted to stay put. He was only a foot and a half away from me now.

“But I haven’t lied to you, Sabrina.” His gaze never left mine. “And I’m not lying when I say I don’t give a fuck about anybody else’s cunt but yours.”

We stood there, not touching, not speaking, each of us standing our ground. But I had no basis to keep my position, and it felt like he’d won so much already.

I couldn’t back down.

“Prove it,” I said.

His expression flared, his eyes growing dark and mean, and I realized what I’d done. Donovan wasn’t one to be provoked.

I’d just invited the devil out to play.

“Unzip your skirt and put your hands on the counter behind you.”

My heart hammered and my belly twisted. My panties were embarrassingly drenched all of a sudden, and I wanted him. But I stood completely still. “I didn’t—”

He cut me off. “No talking and unzip your skirt.”

My mouth slammed shut, but I still didn’t move. If I moved, I’d be asking for this. But if I talked, I’d be telling him to stop.

And I didn’t want this to stop.

I just didn’t want to ask for it because I was stubborn and stupid for wanting him in the first place.

But he would give it to me without the words, without my obedience. Because he knew me. He knew what I needed.

With his eyes never leaving mine, he found the zipper at the side of my waist and pulled it down. After that, the skirt was loose enough that all he had to do was tug it once and it fell easily to my feet. He nudged his knee against my inner leg, and automatically I stepped that foot out of the pool of material on the floor, widening my stance.

He gave a nod of praise, sending a jolt of warmth through my entire body.

Then he bent down in front of me.

Suddenly, breathing was harder than it should have been. My chest moved up and down, air passed through my mouth, but I couldn’t get enough of it to my lungs.

And he hadn’t even touched me yet.

The sight of him alone—Donovan Kincaid, one of the most powerful men in the world, down on his knees in his black Ermenegildo Zegna suit—it was overwhelming and erotic, and by the time he put his hand at the back of my knee, I was already trembling.

CONNECT WITH LAURELIN PAIGE:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LaurelinPaige/

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BLOG TOUR ~ Wild For You by J.C. Reed

Sep 9

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

“Take me. Own me. Never let me wait.”

From New York Times Bestselling Author, J.C. Reed comes a brand-new standalone novel.

I’m an average girl.
He’s a famous bull rider.
He doesn’t know that I’m into him.

The first time Cash Boyd locks eyes with Erin Stone, sparks fly, and not only the clutch-at-your-sheets kind. There is something about Erin that makes him want to push her away while at the same time drives him wild for her. He’s a man of many things, but being helpless at the hands of a woman isn’t one of them. Finding himself at her mercy, he intends to make her job as hard as possible for her.

Burning with desire for the one man who’s the shadow to her light, Erin gives in to Cash’s advances…even though she could be destroyed by the truth she’s afraid to disclose. Little does she know that there is also more than meets the eye to Cash and she might just get more than she bargained for.

Cash might be the best at taming bulls, but taming her heart could prove to be the greatest challenge of his life.

100 % Brandnew standalone! No Cliffhanger!
HOT! SEXY!

BUY IT NOW

AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / AMAZON CA / AMAZON AU
IBOOKS / B & N / KOBO / GOOGLE PLAY

TEASER:

“His eyes shimmer green, boring into me.

He’s beautiful.

Breathtaking.

Unforgettable.

And so deliciously close.

“Cash…” I start, but the words don’t quite find their way past my lips. How can I explain what his touch does to me when I don’t understand it myself?

BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy

I really enjoyed Wild For You. This was the first J.C. Reed book I’ve read but I’m sure it won’t be the last!

Cash came across initially, to put it mildly, as an immature, moody, self centred git, but thankfully that wasn’t who he really was – though it took some work on Erin’s part to get to the heart of the guy! I could feel his annoyance with his situation and the frustration that was caused by his family’s gesture to try and get him back on his feet again so even though I could have smacked him a time of two, a little slack was given as I think I’d have been the same had I been in his shoes!

Erin was lovely, hard working, dedicated and patient when her charge was giving her the run around, she was a very likable and believable character – though I have to say I think she carried a lot on her shoulders that she shouldn’t have when it came to her ‘secret’. She knew that she should definitely not be getting involved with her patient but the chemistry and attraction between the pair was off the wall and she fell for the pita bullrider!

This was a good read, packed with heat, banter and humour. I enjoyed the supporting characters and really wanted things to work out for Erin and Cash once he got over himself!

I’m giving Wild For You 4.5*

***NEW RELEASE GIVEAWAY (2 winners)***

ENTER TO WIN:

https://www.jcreedauthor.com/giveaways

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AUTHOR INFO

J.C. Reed is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She writes steamy contemporary romance with a touch of mystery and suspense. When she’s not typing away on her keyboard, forgetting the world around her, you can find her chatting with her readers on Facebook.

CONTACT JESSICA:
GOODREADS / FACEBOOK / WEBSITE

WILD FOR YOU IS LIVE EVERWHERE.

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SPOTLIGHT & VIRTUAL TOUR ~ Her Dark Half (X-Ops, #7) by Paige Tyler

Sep 9

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

Title: Her Dark Half
Series: X-Ops, #7
Author: Paige Tyler

Pub Date: September 5, 2017

Trevor Maxwell

Coyote shifter with an attitude
Covert operator
Trusts no one, especially his devastatingly beautiful new partner

Alina Bosch

Former CIA, newest operative on the covert team
Hired to spy on her partner
Motto: “Never be deceived again.”

Coyote shifter Trevor Maxwell is teamed up with CIA agent Alina Bosch to catch a killer. But when the mission becomes much more dangerous than they expected, they’re going to have to ignore the attraction between them and learn how to trust one another to come out on the other side…

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | IndieBound

Excerpt

“What’s the plan here?” she asked Trevor quietly as the restaurant’s patrons eyed them curiously. “Because I don’t see anyone warming up to us enough to invite us into the back room.”

“We’re Trevor and Alina Hoffman, a filthy rich, newly married couple from Silicon Valley,” Trevor said, glancing around as if taking in the ambience. “We’ve been on an extended honeymoon for the past few months and are currently heading for a trans-Atlantic cruise out of New York City. We decided to do some gambling and got tired of dealing with all the crap at the local casino.”

“You think they’ll buy that?” she asked as he led her across the room toward the door with the guards.

“You sell the fact that we’re a newly married couple, and I’ll make them believe I’m a rich guy with a gambling addiction.”

She could do that. Then she realized one big flaw in their cover story. “If we’re a newly married couple, shouldn’t I be wearing a ring?”

Trevor gave her a sidelong glance. “What makes you think you aren’t?”

She looked down at her hand in confusion and almost fell off her stacked heels as she saw the monstrously large diamond he’d somehow slipped onto her ring finger when she wasn’t looking. Oh crud, it was huge! And as beautiful as any she’d ever seen.

“When did you put this on? More importantly, is this thing real?” she whispered.

Thank goodness she had his arm to keep her steady. She was feeling faint at the idea of wearing a diamond that was probably worth more than her entire apartment.

“I put it on you when we were married on the first of June in Monaco,” he whispered back. “And of course it’s real. I would never put something fake on the love of my life.”

“Trevor, I’m serious,” she said.

He made a face. “Okay. I slipped it on your finger when I was helping you out of the SUV. And yes, it’s real, so don’t lose it. I had to sign my life away to get it out of the DCO safes.”

She gulped. “How much is it worth?”

“Nothing compared to you, sweetheart,” he said in a romantic tone as they stopped in front of the two guards.

The bouncers working this door were a little bit more professional than the ones outside.

“Can I help you?” one of the men asked in a deep, rough voice that made Alina wonder if he chewed gravel for fun.

“Someone told me a man might be able to find a friendly game of poker somewhere near here,” Trevor said casually. “I don’t suppose you two might be able to point my wife and me in the right direction for a game like that?”

The two men regarded him suspiciously.

“I think you’re talking about the Horseshoe Casino,” Gravel said. “It’s nearby, very clean and friendly.” Trevor chuckled. “The Horseshoe is very friendly. But the place doesn’t have the quite the atmosphere we’re looking for. It’s a little too…what’s the word?… sanitized for our liking.”

Gravel studied Trevor for a moment, then glanced at the bar, giving someone there a nod. Ten seconds later, a slim man in an expensive suit appeared at their side.

“My name is Teddy,” he said in a cautious yet friendly tone. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m Trevor Hoffman. This is my wife, Alina. We’re getting ready to head out on a cruise in a few days and decided to do some gambling while we’re in town. Someone told us this place runs a clean game, so I thought I’d spend some money here.”

Teddy surveyed them with a practiced eye, taking in the cut of Trevor’s suit and her expensive gown, not to mention the big honking ring she wore. He must have liked what he saw, because he nodded.

“If I could get some identification and a credit card from you, Mr. Hoffman, I can quickly check your credentials and set you up with a line of credit.”

Alina tensed as Trevor handed over the requested ID and credit card. They could be in trouble. The fake ID and credit card by themselves would have taken quite a bit of time and money to pull off. Coming up with an Internet background to support that would take even longer.

“What are they going to find when they run your name and that credit card number?” she whispered as he slipped his arm around her and casually urged her away from the two men guarding the door.

“Relax.” He flashed her a grin. “They’ll find us with all the relevant financial and societal tidbits one would expect to see when looking at the rich and bored.”

She glanced at Teddy. He typed something into a computer just out of sight behind the bar. A moment later, he lifted his head and frowned in their direction.

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.

Even the two guards were eyeing them funny now. She was starting to wish she had a weapon. If things went bad, they were in trouble.

“Alina,” Trevor said softly as he tightened his arm around her waist and tugged her closer. “Now’s the time for you to sell the newlywed thing.”

She opened her mouth to ask him exactly how he suggested she do that when he pulled her even closer.

She wished she could have said it was years of CIA training that took over and made her kiss him. But that wouldn’t have been true. Instead, it was a totally different kind of instinct. The kind that made a woman want to kiss a hot guy.

About the Author

Paige Tyler is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of sexy, romantic fiction. Paige writes books about hunky alpha males and the kick-butt heroines they fall in love with. She lives with her very own military hero (a.k.a. her husband) and their adorable dog on the beautiful Florida coast. Visit http://www.paigetylertheauthor.com.

Find Paige Online:

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Ride My Beard (Hot-Bites novella) by Jenika Snow & Jordan Marie

Sep 8

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

Amazon

Lola

My entire life I have been in love with one man.
Ryker Stone.
It doesn’t matter that he is more than double my age.
I don’t care about the whispers that say he’s too wild to ever be tamed.
I like that he’s reckless.
He makes me feel like I can be uninhibited.
Truth is I saved myself for him.
I belong to him.

Ryker

I’ve had my eye on Lola for more years than I should admit.
Her beauty drew me in, but it was her innocence that trapped me.
I shouldn’t want to claim her, but she’s all I desire. So I stay close and make damn sure no one else touches her.
I’m all wrong for her, but too damn stupid and hard-up to stay away.
She can run, but I’ll follow.
By the time it’s all said and done she’ll be riding my beard.

Warning: This is a short and over-the-top dirty novella that will have you searching out your very own dirty mechanic.
It’s to the point and leaves noting to the imagination, but then again doesn’t everyone like it that way? *wink*

I walk over to Lola and don’t stop myself from reaching out and cupping one smooth, peach-colored cheek. I want to smack the flesh, spank her good and hard until my handprint is covering her pale flesh.

“Baby, I’m about to show you that working here, being around these motherfuckers, has consequences.” She looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide, her mouth parted.

“But it’s not my fault there are a bunch of assholes who come here,” she defends and if I wasn’t so fucking hard and ready to go off, I would smile.

No, it wasn’t her fault, but I need an excuse to touch her in the way I want to, in the way I need to. I also need her to understand that when it comes to her, to her safety—fuck, anything to do with her, I’m not about to be reasonable.

“Tell me you want my hands on you, want me to smack this perfect ass until the pleasure and pain melt into one, until my mark is on your body and you know that you’re mine.”

She still looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes so wide, her pretty, pink lips still parted.

“Tell me, dammit.” My voice is harsh, rough, exactly how I’m going to be with her. I won’t be satisfied until she is screaming out for more.

“Yes,” she says softly and I can hear the need in her voice. Her hands are stretched out in front of her, her fingers curled around the edge of the desk.

I take a step back and put my foot between her legs to kick her feet apart. I look down at her ass, her legs spread wide enough that I can see her pussy lips. They are pink and glossy, and slightly swollen from her arousal. My mouth waters and my balls draw up tight to my body.

I want to reach down and unzip my jeans, pull my dick out, and align it right at the entrance of her pussy hole. I want to shove it deep inside of her, claiming her cherry and making her know she’s mine.

Jordan Marie

A QUIRKY WRITER GOING WHERE THE VOICES TAKE HER.
USA Today Best Selling Author Jordan Marie, is just a simple small town country girl who is haunted by Alpha Men who talk in her head 24 hours a day.

She currently has 14 books out including 2 that she wrote under the pen name Baylee Rose.

She likes to create a book that takes you on an emotional journey whether tears, laughter (or both) or just steamy hot fun (or all 3). She loves to connect with readers and interacting with them through social media, signings or even old fashioned email.

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Jenika Snow

Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.

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CHAPTER REVEAL ~ Exes with Benefits by Nicole Williams

Sep 8

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

Coming September 18th

Amazon

Nook

iBooks

He wants a second chance. I want a divorce.
To get what I want, I’ll have to give him what he does.

From New York Times & USA Today bestselling author, Nicole Williams,
comes a new standalone romance in the same vein as Roommates with Benefits.

PROLOGUE

Goodbye.
It was the one relationship guarantee we could all expect. Whether it was death or circumstance, tragedy or choice, it was the only promise we were assured. Goodbye. It had been coming since the day we met, and now it was here. Sooner than I’d hoped. Even sooner than the sensible segment of me had predicted.
Still, it was later than maybe I should have expected out of a relationship with Canaan Ford.
I’d been waiting all night for his truck to rumble up the driveway when it finally did just past two a.m.. Before his footsteps echoed up the stairs, I shouldered the couple of bags I’d packed and waited in the shadows of the hallway. My paintbrushes were sticking out of one of my oversized totes, tickling the underside of my arm. I’d packed everything that seemed important at the time, but now, I wasn’t sure that what I’d stuffed in my bags mattered at all.
It was late, dark, and Canaan would be coming home exhausted, hurting, and some degree of drunk. He wouldn’t see me, and I could just slip away without him knowing.
Maybe I should have left before he made it back, but whenever I tried, my feet froze to the floor before I could make it to the door. I needed to wait for him to get home first—to make sure he was okay before I left him. That might have been a messed up model of morality, but most of Canaan’s and my relationship was messed up, from the beginning to now, the ending.
He struggled with the key in the lock before shoving the door open and clomping straight toward the couch. He’d stopped crawling into bed beside me after a night of fighting and drinking months ago, like he thought it would spare me the pain of seeing him bloodied and plastered. It never had. The black eyes, the swollen lips, the bruised ribs; they were that much worse in the light of morning.
Canaan had barely crashed onto the sofa before his breathing evened out. Still, I waited another minute in the hallway before moving into the living room.
Don’t look, Maggie. Don’t let yourself look at him.
I looked. Of course I looked. I never listened to what was best for me—if I had, my life would have wound up so much differently.
He was already passed out, sprawled across the couch we’d bought at a yard sale the summer before . . .
Before all of this.
One arm and one leg were hanging off the end, his face tipped far enough toward me I could gauge the type of fight he’d been in tonight. A good one by Canaan’s definition—the best kind. The type where his opponent got in as many hits as he did. The type of fight that made him almost question if it would be the first one he’d lose. Canaan loved the challenge, the fight. He thrived off of chaos, seeming to wilt when life was simple. I used to admire that about him, and maybe I still did. It just wasn’t the life for me. I couldn’t live life like it was a battle—not anymore.
He was passed out hard, but I still crept slowly toward the front door, my heart thundering as the boards creaked below me. Even though I was moving toward the door, my eyes stayed on him.
Look away.
I couldn’t. Canaan was the best part of my life. And the worst. The best memories. And the worst. He was the high and the low and I was so damn tired of the sick cycle I thought would kill me one day.
As my hand cupped around the cool doorknob, my eyes burned. This was it. As resolved as I’d felt in the weeks leading up to this, I felt like I was being torn in half by walking away. I knew if I stayed, this relationship would be the end of me. But at the moment, leaving felt like the same.
Lying on that couch, he looked so vulnerable. Almost like he needed someone to protect him. From the world. From his demons. From himself. I’d tried. God, I’d been trying for what felt like forever, but the only thing I had to show for my efforts was scars and pain.
One of his eyes was swollen shut, his bottom lip three times its normal size, and he’d split the same eyebrow open again. It was going to need stiches. Six, I guessed. I’d gotten really good as estimating the number of stiches needed to seal a wound.
A sob rose from my chest, but I managed to swallow it back down. He was the only boy I’d ever loved—the only one I’d ever come close to loving. In some ways, he was perfect for me. But in more ways, especially lately, he was entirely wrong for me.
That was why I needed to leave. We might have been good together, but we weren’t good for each other. I knew that now.
I opened the door slowly, so it wouldn’t make a sound, then I let myself take one last look at the life I was leaving behind before I forced myself to walk away.
Now that I wasn’t looking at him, moving was easier. Each step down from our little apartment above the garage came quicker, so by the time I reached the ground, I was jogging.
Canaan’s truck was parked right beside my old car. Ancient was maybe a better description of how “mature” my car was. It was almost like he’d known I was going to leave tonight, because he’d parked his truck so close I could barely crack my door open half a foot. Getting my bags tossed into the backseat and managing to wiggle in through the door was a tight fit, but I made it work.
The moment I was inside, I jammed the key in the ignition and turned it over. I didn’t pause. I didn’t flinch. The hardest part was behind me, and now I needed to keep moving.
Easing my car around the truck, I noticed the one light burning inside the big house in my rearview mirror. Grandma knew what was happening tonight and was keeping her light on for me as her unique way of expressing that no matter what, she was here for me. She’d keep the light on—even when it felt like there was nothing but darkness around me.
My throat constricted as I kept backing down the long driveway. I’d tried saving him, but it had cost me almost everything. I was taking what I had left and saving myself.
As I rolled past Grandma’s front porch, my gaze shifted from the rearview mirror to that little garage apartment I’d lived the last eleven months in. The door was open, light was streaming from inside, and a dark, towering shadow loomed in the doorway.
My foot instinctively moved toward the brake. Canaan was too far away for me to determine the look on his face, but I could imagine it. It came easy since I’d known him as long as I had. Knowing his face was like second nature.
He stayed unmoving in that doorway for a moment, my car doing the same. It wasn’t until he started moving down the stairs that my foot flew back to the gas. If he got to me before I made it out of this driveway, I wouldn’t leave. I knew it. Walking away from someone I loved was hard enough, but Canaan wasn’t just someone I loved—he was someone I’d shared everything with. He’d walked with me through the hardest part of my life, and I’d walked with him through his. We’d been each other’s beacon, shelter, and compass through all of life’s shit . . .
So how had we gotten here? To this hopeless, dead end of a place?
He was charging down the stairs now, taking them two at a time. How was he able to move that nimbly when he’d just been comatose on the couch?
“Maggie!”
The windows were rolled up, but his shout broke through the glass, sounding so close it was almost like he was pressed against me, whispering it into my ear.
He sprinted the moment his feet touched the ground, his long arms pumping hard at his sides.
“Canaan, don’t,” I whispered inside the car, my lower lip trembling as I focused on the driveway behind me. “Please don’t.”
I didn’t miss the shadow that had appeared in that lit window. Grandma was watching me leave, witnessing Canaan trying to convince me to stay. Before, his attempts had been successful, but not this time. I couldn’t stay for him one more time—I had to leave for me.
“Maggie! Please!”
Canaan’s shouts were so loud, they were going to wake up the neighbors a few acres over. Each word emanated like a blast inside the car.
“Let me go,” I whispered as I swung the car onto the street.
Right before I could punch it into drive and hit the gas, Canaan swooped in front of the car. His chest was moving hard from the exertion, his snug white tee stained with fresh and dried blood. His face was so messed up it was practically unrecognizable, but I couldn’t help seeing the young boy with a clip-on tie walk up to me when I was frozen on a porch step, appraising me with those wild gold eyes before holding out a tiny box. How had that boy, who’d saved me back then, become the ruin of me now?
When I revved the engine, he didn’t move. Instead, he slid closer so his legs were pushing against the bumper. He raised his arms like he was surrendering, his unswollen eye landing on me. “I’m not letting you leave. Not without a fight.”
A breath rolled past my lips—a fight. Everything was a fight with him. He couldn’t land enough hits or take enough. His guilt wouldn’t let him.
Cranking down the window, I made myself glare at him. It was harder to achieve than it should have been. “I’m not something you win or lose in a fight.”
His jaw moved as he pressed his hands into the hood of the car. “You fight for what’s important. That’s the way life is. And you are worth every fight I have in me.”
“You’re too busy fighting everyone else—including yourself—to fight for me.” My sight blurred as I stared at him. So little of the person I’d fallen in love with remained. So little of who he’d fallen in love with remained in me as well. “I can’t wait around, watching you kill yourself one fight and drink at a time.”
He wiped at his split-open brow, leaving a streak of blood on his forearm. “I can change.”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. How many times had I heard those words come from his lips? Those same lips that claimed ownership of my first kiss?
“Yeah, you can.” I steeled myself against him a little more. “That’s not your problem. Your problem is that you won’t change.”
“This time I will.” His head whipped side to side. “It’s taken this, you trying to leave me, to slap some sense into me.”
I’d tried leaving so many times. This was just the furthest I’d ever made it. “I’m not trying to leave you. I am leaving you.” I made myself look at him. I made myself appear strong when I felt so very opposite. “This is it.”
He slowly came around the side of the car toward me. I rolled up the window halfway, aiming my eyes at the road in front of me.
“One more chance.” Even from a few feet back, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I could smell the sweat and blood on him mixed with it, the trace of perfume that didn’t belong to me.
“You’ve had a thousand one more chances.” I studied him from the corners of my eyes, knowing better than to let them lock on his when he was this close. “This was your last one.”
“Maggie . . .” His hands formed around the lip of the window. His knuckles were split open and swollen, dried blood covering them. Still, I wasn’t sure I’d ever craved having them reach for me more. I wasn’t sure I’d ever needed him to pull me to his broken body and soul more than I did right then.
In that moment, I might have needed him more than I needed air, but I couldn’t give in. Kicking the habit was the only way to cure myself.
“Let me go, Canaan.” My legs were trembling as my foot moved back to the gas.
His head lowered so it was in line with mine. “You’re my wife.”
My left hand curled farther around the steering wheel, until I couldn’t see the gold band circling my finger. “No. I was your wife.”
His head dropped for half a second, his eyes flashing with defeat right before. “I love you.”
My chest ached. The man was the boy again, and I wanted to save him the way he’d saved me. But I couldn’t. The only person who could save Canaan Ford was Canaan Ford.
“I promised to love you forever, and I will.” My foot touched the accelerator. “But I can’t spend forever with you.”
His hands braced around the window harder when I rolled forward. “I made a promise. To you, and to myself. A promise to love you forever. To look after you as long.”
When I found my mind drifting to that overcast afternoon eleven months ago, my heart wringing when I remembered the way he’d stared at me as we repeated those phrases in the courthouse, I shook my head. Good memories weren’t enough. Hope wasn’t enough. Empty promises weren’t even close to enough.
“We exchanged vows.” My eyes focused on the road in front of me, letting go of the dead end beside me. “There’s a difference between saying them and meaning them.”
When my foot pushed down on the gas, Canaan moved with the car. “I’m not letting you go. I’m not giving up.” The car moved faster, his feet pounding the asphalt as he struggled to keep up.
“I know. But I’m giving in.” Breaking my own rule, I let my eyes meet his before punching the gas pedal as far down as it would go. “Goodbye.”
That was enough. Hearing that word shocked him just enough to still him. For one second. I didn’t ease up on the gas, not even when I heard his fists pounding the trunk as he struggled to keep up.
“I can change!” His footsteps were thundering after the car. “I will change.”
With him behind me, I let the tears I’d been fighting fall. Everything I’d ever known—my whole life—was getting smaller and smaller behind me. With every tick of the odometer.
“MAGGIE!!!” His voice pierced the air one last time before I was too far away to hear whatever came next.
It was morning by the time I stopped seeing his reflection in the rearview mirror, still chasing me into my new life.

Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Saddled by Dani Wyatt

Sep 8

Posted by Book Loving Pixies

AMAZON

Is it possible to fall in love at the sight of a wisp of jet black hair swirling out an open window of a pickup? In a thousand lifetimes, I would have said, ‘Hell no’. But today I learned not only is it possible, it’s fucking happening. To me. I’d all but given up on love but apparently, it hadn’t given up on me.

When Maria Garcia McGowan stepped out of that truck, her sweet scent hit me and this cowboy was done for. None too happy to be stuck in a cow poke town like Cooper’s Mill, a brainy beauty like her will take some convincing to stick around. Even if I have to tie her to the bedpost, I’m not letting her get away. She’s mine.

I’ve tamed more than my fair share of mustangs, and this sweet filly is about to be lassoed. Except, small town gossip and jealousy have a way of poking their nose into even the sweetest of happy endings.

Author Note: It takes some angry turkeys and a heck of a storm, but these two lovebirds will have you reaching for a paper fan and sucking on an ice cube to cool things off. A hunky cowboy and a whip smart city girl are just the ticket for this safe, steamy and oh-so-happily-ever-after book with everything you expect from Dani Wyatt.

I reach up to the nail where my black Stetson is hanging and retrieve it, putting it in its usual place on my head. Then I take a moment longer than most folks would find necessary to adjust it back and forth, finding just the right spot, exactly where it should be. For me, there’s only one perfect place where my hat will sit, and I can’t relax until it’s in place.

The next breeze makes me stop. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and stand on end.

I stare at the truck as it turns in a wide circle and backs in with the trailer settling by the pile of hay, Reggie flagging him in from behind.

I stand, arms crossed, and I don’t fucking get it, but my heart clicks in my chest. There’s something besides the hay scent on that breeze, and with the next summer gust, I blink and focus, my eyes zeroing in on the passenger seat of the truck.

Another arm hangs out that window, as well as a tendril of the shiniest black hair I’ve ever seen. It’s spinning in the wind around a bare shoulder. A feminine shoulder. Skin the color of sweet tea, and I see a rainbow-colored beaded bracelet on a tiny wrist.

As the truck backs slowly into place, I grunt out a few expletives. Her hair whips around, and she leans out the window to look back toward Reggie. From my vantage point, I can see green eyes and a face that even my uncultured ass knows deserves to be painted in oil, framed, and hanging in the Louvre.

My blood turns hot, rushing south and filling the length of my dick in a heartbeat.

In a blink, I’m swinging my body out the open hay loft, three stories up, and half sliding down the old ladder strapped to the red exterior of the barn. I can’t remember the last time I used this ladder—it’s not the sturdiest and it probably isn’t used to bearing a weight like mine—but it’s the fastest way down, and that’s what counts right now.

“Stop!” Reggie raises his voice to be heard over the truck’s engine. “That’s close enough, Mr. McGowan.”

The truck’s engine cuts out, and the driver’s side door squeaks a little on its hinges as McGowan slides out. Then the other door opens, and I’m not sure why, but I’m getting angry. Knowing Reggie is down there, closer to her than I am right now and getting the first look…

I’m ready to set him on his ass.

She’s tiny. But full and lush in all the right places. At just the glimpse of her from the back, I’m mesmerized. I can’t stop taking inventory of each inch. The light pink of her bra strap is that hanging down onto her upper arm, under her dress sleeve. The braided red thread tied around her left ankle. The simple white sneakers on her small feet that look brand-new. The way her ass is filling out the fabric of her little floral dress. The hem skirting just at mid-thigh.

All of the sudden, I couldn’t be happier I’ve not been with a woman in years. Strange fucking thought, but everything feels amplified right now. One glance at those eyes and it’s like the needle in the haystack jumped out and stabbed me in my heart.

Dani Wyatt loves her alpha men; make them military, cowboys, MMA — any uber alpha with a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Receive a free exclusive unpublished title when you join Dani’s private readers group for updates, free chapters and discounts.

http://eepurl.com/bubxzz

She’s a 40 something regular lady who just happens to love badass alpha males who pull your hair and love their women with a lethal passion.

When she’s not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can’t have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.

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