Category Archives: Excerpt

NEW RELEASE ~ FORGET ME NOT (The Unforgettable Duet #1) by Brooke Blaine

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Experience the heartbreakingly beautiful journey of Ollie & Reid in…

Forget Me Not, the first all-new contemporary MM Romance in The Unforgettable Duet,
from Brooke Blaine is available NOW!

FMN-Full-FINAL

Three sugars, two creamers.

That’s how you took your coffee every morning at Joe’s Grab ’N Go.

But you don’t remember that.

You don’t remember anything.

Anything, that is, except me…

That day…

And the tragedy that catapulted us together.



CHAPTER ONE

“IT’S MONDAY, AND you know what that means,” Mike said as he cut off Big Bertha’s engine and looked over at me expectantly.

I patted my pants pocket to make sure I’d shoved my wallet inside before we’d headed out this morning, and when I felt the outline of the trifold, I nodded. “Yep. Extra-bold coffee comin’ up.” As I popped open the passenger-side door, Mike’s hand landed firmly on my arm, halting me before I could get out of the ambulance, and I looked back at him over my shoulder.

“It means don’t be a chickenshit, Ollie, that’s what it means.”

Lifting my eyebrows, I glanced around, searching for whoever it was Mike thought he was talking to, and when he read my quizzical expression, he snorted.

“Yeah, that means you,” he said.

“You callin’ me out?”

“Damn right I am.”

I shook my head. “I’m not a chickenshit, and you know it.”

Mike shrugged and let go of my arm. “Fine. Prove it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can. You just won’t.”

Yeah, whatever, he had me there. Something always held me back from saying much more than hello to the guy in the fitted chinos and starched collared shirt and tie that I saw most mornings in the coffee aisle at Joe’s Grab ’N Go, and Mike never could resist an opportunity to rib me for it. I never should’ve told him about my crush in the first damn place, but being my best friend as well as my work partner meant we tended to overshare in the time between calls.

“He’s straight, Mike. Leave it alone, huh?”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

I picked up a container of mints and shook a couple into my mouth before tossing it back in the console. “Trust me. I know.”

“You ask him since the last time I saw you?”

Rolling my eyes, I ignored his question and pushed open my door. “You want that coffee or not?”

“Mhmm. The date for you, too.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, slamming the door before he could make any other requests. I could hear him chuckling behind me as he got out to pump the gas. And out of the corner of my eye, a flash of red pulling into a parking spot had my heart beating a bit faster. It was ridiculous that I’d even wonder for a second if I’d see him, since hardly a weekday had gone by in four months when I hadn’t. But that flutter of anticipation still sent a thrill through me, the handful of minutes seeing him every morning the highlight of my day.

That’s it. I need to get my damn life back. Working all these overtime shifts to pick up some extra cash over the holidays—and giving the guys with families some time off—had sent my extracurricular activities into a tailspin. If I didn’t get laid soon, I’d crash and burn. Or, worse, hit on the straight guy.

“Hey, Ollie,” Mike called out, and I paused with my hand on the door to the Grab ’N Go before moving aside to let the woman behind me pass through. When I turned around, a mischievous grin played on his lips as he inserted the gas pump into Big Bertha’s tank and began to hip-thrust.

Oh for the love of—

“And while you’re at it, maybe grab me one of those apple fritters, would ya? And a soda for later?”

So much for New Year’s resolutions, I thought. That had lasted less than a week. Not that I could blame him when it came to the tempting basket of freshly baked goods that sat by Joe’s register every morning—even I had a hard time passing on those. Still, Mike had wanted to lose the twenty pounds that had crept up since Halloween and made me swear I’d keep him in check.

“You sure you wanna do that?” I asked.

Mike looked pointedly over at the red Mazda3 and his smile grew. “Life’s too short to pass on the good stuff, wouldn’t you say?”

That fucker. I shook my head and shot a glare his way, and then I went inside, determined now to buy out the apple fritters and personally stuff ’em down his meddling throat.

“Morning, Oliver,” Joe greeted me from behind the counter where he was ringing up a customer, and I smiled his way before grabbing a handheld basket and heading down the aisle for Mike’s Sprite. I took the third bottle from the front—yeah, I never took the first one of anything—and laid it in the basket as the freezer door slapped shut behind me.

I kept a tight grip on the handle as I took my time walking toward the far aisle, the anticipation building in my gut. Finally, I rounded the corner, and just as he was every day, Bluebird stood in front of the coffee station, refillable mug in hand and somehow looking more gorgeous than I remembered. My memory never did him justice.

I didn’t move as he placed his mug beneath the machine’s spout and hit a button, and I knew exactly what he’d get, the same as every morning: a latte with light foam and three sugars, two creamers.

Today he was dressed in a pair of black slacks, with a white button-down shirt and a midnight-blue tie—always so well put together, from his stylishly tousled dark brown hair, so dark it was almost black, down to his black loafers. A couple of days of stubble covered his usual freshly shaven jaw, and I imagined how it’d feel under my hands as I took either side of his face and pulled him toward mine—

“Dammit!”

Bluebird’s curse shook me out of my stupor as my feet managed to move again, and as I got closer, I saw that the usual brown liquid coming out of the machine was a cloudy white instead.

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Hey, Joe,” he called out to the owner. “Latte machine’s down.”

“Again?” Joe scratched his jaw and then said, “Sorry about that, Reid. I’ll get someone out to fix it today.”

“No problem,” Reid replied, dumping out the hot water from his mug into the tray, and hello, I finally had a name to go with the face: Reid. How was it I’d gone so long without knowing?

I pulled out a couple of large disposable cups from the rack and reached for the coffee pot at the same time as Reid, our fingers brushing each other ever so slightly before we both jerked back. His touch shot through me like an electric jolt to my heart, and the surprise that lit his eyes told me I wasn’t the only one affected.

“Sorry,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Damn static.”

That wasn’t static, I thought, but I wasn’t about to enlighten him, so instead I gestured to the almost empty coffee pot. “No problem. Go for it.”

“Oh…uh…” He glanced at how little was left and shook his head. “That’s okay. You were first.”

“Nah, go ahead. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”

“You sure?” Reid asked, his forehead creased like he didn’t want to impose, but I wouldn’t have minded him taking the last of the coffee every day, so long as those dark chocolate eyes of his stayed on me.

“I insist,” I said, and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Besides, I know where Joe keeps the spares. I’ll just make another pot.”

A grateful smile lifted his lips. “Thanks.” Then he poured himself a full mug of coffee and scratched his jaw as he said, “Ever have one of those mornings?”

“All the time.”

Reid looked up at me, and then his eyes shifted down to my name and title patched in on my uniform. Oliver McFadden. Paramedic. “Yeah, of course you do. Paramedic, huh? I don’t know how you do it.”

“Helps that we can filter caffeine through IVs for a quicker hit on bad days.”

He laughed as he ripped open three sugar packets and dumped them into his drink. “I think I’m in the wrong field.”

“What is it you do?”

“I teach music education at Castle Hill.”

“Middle schoolers?” I whistled. “I think I’ll stick with my job.”

“I wouldn’t blame you some days. They’re mostly a good group, but man, there’s a few whose mission is to run off the new teachers.”

“And you’re one of the new ones?”

“Four months running.” He tossed the empty packets into the trash and then held his hand out to me. “I’m Reid, by the way.”

I stared at his hand for a couple of heartbeats before taking it in mine. His long fingers were cool to the touch, unlike my perpetually hot ones. It could be negative fifty outside, and my hands would still be warm. “Ollie,” I said, and then shook my head slightly. “Well, Oliver, but everyone calls me Ollie.”

“Ollie,” Reid repeated, still shaking my hand. “I’ve never met an Ollie before.”

“Mom was a big fan of Laurel and Hardy. I’m just glad she didn’t go with Stan.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that was an unnecessary reference because he probably had no idea who the hell Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy were, but Reid surprised the hell out of me by laughing.

“Your mom has good taste. I used to watch their stuff at my nan’s,” he said, and then let go of my hand.

I missed the contact immediately.

Before I could respond, Joe’s gnarled fingers clamped down on my arm as he hobbled in between us and hit the side of the latte machine with his cane.

“I don’t think it’ll respond to a beat-down, Joe,” Reid said, as he stirred two creamers into his coffee.

“Worked once before. By George, I’ll do it again.”

As Joe whacked at the machine, Reid shook his head at the stubborn man. Then he capped his mug and smiled at me. “Thanks again, Ollie. I owe you one.”

“Anytime,” I said, and meant it. “Hope your morning improves.”

“I’m counting on it. Bye, Joe. I’ll leave the money on the counter.”

Joe grumbled what sounded like a goodbye and kept fiddling with the latte machine as I rinsed out the coffee pot and started up a fresh brew.

Two steaming mugs and a bag full of apple fritters later and I was climbing back into Big Bertha, still reeling from my run-in with Reid. It was so unlike me to moon over a guy, for fuck’s sake, but there was something about him that had caught my attention from day one and never let go. Today’s encounter had only served to pique my curiosity. I’d always thought him older, maybe mid- to late twenties, but he said he’d only been at Castle Hill for four months. Maybe that meant he was fresh out of college? Or could be he’d relocated from somewhere. Definitely somewhere still in the South, since he seemed to have the manner of someone who’d grown up with parents who drilled in the Yes, sirs and No, thank you, ma’ams so telling of this part of the country, though his accent didn’t betray much of a twang.

“That has got to be the biggest, dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your ugly mug,” Mike said, staring at me like I’d grown two heads. “Did you finally do it? Did you ask him out?”

I tossed the bag of fritters and soda into Mike’s lap. “Feel free to choke on those.”

“Ahh, I’m gonna take that as a yes, then. He shoot you down?”

After setting the coffees in the console, I fastened my seatbelt and waited for Mike to get the hint we needed to get moving.

“The hell, man?” he said. “You gonna leave me hangin’?”

I arched my brow in his direction, and when I didn’t say anything, he gave a grunt and started up the rig.

“One of these days, Ollie,” he grumbled, pulling out of the gas station. “You know all my personal shit. See if I spill my guts anymore.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do if you couldn’t talk about Deb twenty-four seven.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I scored a good one. Just letting everyone know what they’re missing out on.” As Mike slowed down behind traffic, he glanced over at me and waggled his black eyebrows.

“Make sure to do us a favor and hand out barf bags the next time you get started.” I nodded at the bag of pastries in his lap. “And don’t tell Deb I’m doin’ a horrible job of keeping you accountable.”

“Nah, she likes my love handles.”

“Bullshit.”

He laughed and tore into the bag of fritters with one hand, while keeping his other on the wheel. When he’d made me swear last week that I’d keep him on track while he “cut the crap,” I’d thought he was nuts. Even with an extra twenty pounds on his strong six-foot build, Mike was as attractive as ever. Black, close-cropped curls, a permanent tan, and dimples that only seemed to have deepened the past few months.

The hot ones are always straight. At least they are in Floyd Hills, Georgia, I thought, my mind drifting back to the man I always made sure to run into during the workweek. And yeah, I got that straight vibe from Reid too, though even he couldn’t deny the spark that had ignited when our hands had brushed against each other. That wasn’t enough to hang any hope on, though, much as I wanted to.

“His name’s Reid,” I said, breaking up the quiet in the cab, and when Mike’s head jerked in my direction, a fritter half shoved in his mouth, I was unable to keep the smirk off my face anymore. “Teaches music at the middle school.”

As I casually sipped my coffee, Mike’s jaw practically hit the ground. “No shit.” A horn sounded from behind us, and Mike stepped on the gas, shaking his head. “About damn time. What else did you talk about?”

“Nothing. Joe came over to give the coffee machine a concussion, and that was the end of that.”

“Dammit, Joe. Way to cock-block.”

“Nah, he didn’t know.”

“Well, you have an opening now,” Mike said, winking at me. “And that was only a pun if you want it to be.”

“Oh, Jesus. I’ve done it now.”

“What?”

“Created a monster who uses puns against me.”

Mike laughed as I flipped on the radio to drown out any other comments his sugar high wanted to lob out, but when Bing Crosby began to croon about a winter wonderland, Mike groaned and jabbed at the buttons to change the channel.

“I can’t believe they’re still blasting Christmas music in January. Didn’t they get the memo that Santa Claus already came to town, and all he brought me was a damn snow blower? When the hell am I gonna use a snow blower around here? I think my in-laws called in a favor.”

Chuckling, I brought my coffee up to my lips and blew softly, while Mike continued to flip through the stations until a country song began to play. He started to sing along, something about naming babies and dogs, which would normally have me eye-rolling him to death. But since his mouth was now otherwise occupied and he wasn’t digging for more information out of me, I didn’t bother putting up a fight to change the channel. Let him belt out “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” for all I cared. Until a call came in, my mind would be preoccupied by…other things.

A quick tone alert came through the radio, and I punched the music off as a call came through from dispatch.

“Unit 110, please respond Code 3 to the intersection of Mercer and Thomas on a multi-vehicle accident with injuries. Fire responding for possible extrication.”

I picked up the receiver. “Ten-four, Unit 110 en route. ETA less than two minutes,” I said, as Mike dropped the plastic bag on the ground at my feet and flipped on the lights and siren.

“Not how I’d want my day starting out,” he said, cutting through an intersection to make a left on Mercer.

“Saddle up,” I said. “I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long one.”

Traffic going east was already beginning to back up, the roads congested at the height of morning rush hour. Now with the accident up ahead and the cars unable to move to the side, Mike had to pull us into the suicide lane to get by. From the opposite direction, a backup unit, along with two police cars and a fire truck, veered toward the intersection, though it looked like we’d get there first.

I could see the smoke rising up ahead, and as we got closer, it seemed to be coming from beneath the hood of a black four-by-four truck that had smashed into a—

“Oh shit… Ollie…” Mike’s voice trailed off as we both caught sight of the crushed passenger side of the car that had been T-boned. The crumpled car had been no match for the bigger vehicle; it looked like they’d skidded into the middle of the intersection during impact. The car’s hood punched up at an awkward angle with the truck half inside, and broken glass littered the road.

I’d seen the sight so many times before, but never had the breath left my lungs in a rush, never had a faint ringing sound filled my ears, and never had a wild sense of panic seized my chest like it did right then.

Because the mangled car, the one I was responding to, was none other than Reid’s bright red Mazda3.


ForgetMeNot-AN

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Book two, Remember Me When,
will be released on February 26th, 2018.

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About Brooke24301089_1620625364671333_4845091443655140300_n.jpg


Brooke Blaine
is a
USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts.

If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find – just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. Or you can reach her at www.BrookeBlaine.com.

 

Connect with Brooke:

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Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrookeBlaine1

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EXCERPT REVEAL ~ GENTLEMAN NINE by Penelope Ward

 

 

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.

Growing up, the three of us were friends.

He was the nerd.

I was the playboy.

She was the beauty.

Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits.

He lied.

 

I went off to college, and he got the girl.

Amber never knew how I felt.

They were together for years—before he broke her heart.

 

Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch.

When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

 

Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men.

One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life. She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings.

Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.

Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message.

She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend— me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.)

Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Nine at a hotel.

When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she got the surprise of her life to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse.

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G9,

Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers.

That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.

Amber

 

My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.

Holy shit.

I read it again.

And again.

And again.

I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory.

She wanted to use another man to f*ck me out of her system?

That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as f*ck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.



About the Author

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-year-old girl with autism and a 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

Connect with Penelope Ward

Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Website |Twitter | Instagram


Other standalones from Penelope Ward:

Drunk Dial:
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Mack Daddy:
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Stepbrother Dearest:
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Neighbor Dearest:
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RoomHate:
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Dear Bridget, I Want You: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
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Mister Moneybags: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
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Playboy Pilot: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2dbetFA
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf
Nook: http://bit.ly/2c9vRdV
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Stuck-Up Suit: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1S3LnpZ
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57
Nook: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/stuck-up-suit

Cocky Bastard: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1MvHLg2
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PffE2J
Nook: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO

Sins of Sevin:
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Jake Undone (Jake #1):
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Nook: http://bit.ly/1obAwJ6
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Jake Understood (Jake #2):
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Nook: http://bit.ly/1FwJC0z
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My Skylar
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Gemini:
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Nook: http://bit.ly/1KfmLHD
iBooks: http://apple.co/1QTaONj
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1BGJ2wu


RELEASE BLITZ ~ Solace (The Hunter Series #2) by SE Cooper

 
 
 

Title: Solace
Series: The Hunter Series #2
Author: S.E. Cooper 

 

Genre: Contemporary Romance Suspense
Release Date: February 16, 2018 

 
 
“I didn’t choose to love you,” I whispered.
“But now that I do, no storm is strong enough to keep me away from you.”
 

Nyah Hunter has always believed in love at first sight. When she first sets eyes on James Parker, ‘Big’ to his friends,
  Nyah realises he’s the man she’s been waiting for all her life. The only problem is, Big doesn’t want to know. He has his reasons for keeping the beautiful blonde at bay, but Nyah won’t give up without a fight. How can he make her see that the safest place for her is as far away from him as possible?
 
For Big, loving Nyah means risking more than just his heart. It means confronting a past too painful to process and recalling haunting memories too bittersweet to share.
 
Intent on protecting those he loves, Big sets out to defeat his demons, once and for all; a battle that’s likely to see him perish in the process. Only, he hasn’t counted on the unusual collection of individuals willing to work together for the greater good.
 
With fresh hope in his heart and an unlikely army by his side, Big dares to dream that this time, he might get to live free.
 
However, has he underestimated just how far his enemy will go to destroy him?

 
 
 
 
 
I was being cruel. I knew it. I was losing my mind being so close to her, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop.
Her response was to tilt her head and moan lightly against my ear. 
“Look, Nyah,” I whispered, drawing closer to her hardened peak. “I’m barely touching you and yet, you’re about to come.” 
Her response was to push me harshly against the brick wall. I waited for her to raise her hand and slap me, instead her body hit mine with such force she winded me. Kicking my legs apart, she moved between them. 
Then she kissed me. 
She. Kissed. Me.
Her hot mouth plundered mine, and she took until I was the one who was breathless. Moving her hands roughly over my chest, she pulled at my shirt until it came loose, and she could feel bare skin beneath her fingertips.
This was not the way I thought this would go. The woman was out of control. I was loving every damned second of it. I wrapped my arms around her back and hauled her too me. We kissed to the point it became painful, but neither of us came up for air. I decided that if I was going to die here and now, in this courtyard, it would be worth it just to have witnessed this beautiful woman become wild in my arms.
I smiled against her mouth when her hand moved lower, and she crudely groped at my dick through the denim. I ground my hips against her hand, loving the feel of her fingers on me, my body instantly responding to her frantic touch. When she mewled her approval into my mouth, I was done for. I grabbed hold of her waist with the intention of turning us, until I was the one leading this fervent encounter we found ourselves in. She chose that moment to break the kiss and step back out of my reach.
A few feet away, she stood breathless and turned on to all hell. Her hair was in disarray, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were burning into mine in a way I had yet to experience. I decided she had never looked more beautiful. She was like a fallen angel halfway to hell.
Me, I was confused as fuck, but in the best conceivable way.
She smirked at me and I narrowed my eyes. 
“You know, Parker?” She smirked. “I’m barely touching you, and yet, you’re about to come.” 
I swallowed hard, her intentions now clear.
“Well played, darlin’.” I grimaced, “Well played.”
She should leave now.
While we both wanted more.
I was left to contemplate the fact I’d just been owned by an angel, but she was no stronger than I was. Her body was humming in anticipation, the rise and fall of her chest making her breasts move in the most delightful of ways. Her eyes were pulling with desire, growing heavier by the second, as she fought for control of her senses.
I could barely hold my ground. 
But I had to, for both our sakes.
 

 
 
 
 

 
 
 

 

S E Cooper lives in Scotland with her husband, their two boys, two crazy cats and a bonkers bunny. She has always loved to read and write stories but it wasn’t until she discovered the wonderful world of self-publishing and became inspired by some of her favorite Indie Authors that she decided to take the plunge herself.

Her hobbies include spending time with family and friends, photography, reading and daydreaming. 

  
 
 

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ The Pilot and the Puck-Up by Pippa Grant

 

 

 

 
Title: The Pilot & the Puck-Up
Author: Pippa Grant

Genre: Sexy Romantic Comedy

 Release Date: February 16, 2018
 
Blurb

He’s the biggest, baddest, most spider-fearing motherpucker on the ice…

When you’re named after the king of the gods, the world expects certain things of you.Tough? Damn right.Smart? Don’t let the hockey uniform fool you.Large and in charge? Honey, I’m the biggest, baddest, mother pucking-est machine to ever own the ice. I shoot. I score. In and out of the rink. I don’t come early, but I come often, if you know what I mean. And I always leave the ladies wanting more.

Until that chick last night.

I’m no one-thrust wonder, and you’re damn right I’m going to prove to her I can do better. But every time I think I’m finally on my way back into her pants, she one-ups and out-balls me.

I should cut my losses, lick my wounds, and walk away.

But Zeus Berger doesn’t walk away from anything.

Especially when she’s the only woman in the world who might be able to handle me.

The Pilot and the Puck-Up is a standalone romantic comedy featuring a hockey player whose ego is the only thing bigger than his shoe size, the most badass woman to ever fly a plane, rubber chockey (don’t ask), and no cheating or cliffhangers.
 
 
Purchase Links
 
AMAZON: US / UK / CA / AU
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited

 


 

Excerpt
 
Zeus Berger (aka the biggest, baddest, most spider-fearing mother pucker to ever play in the NHL)
 
Coconuts are itchy. I should’ve gone for the watermelons.
But it was a bitch and a half getting that last-minute private fitting at Madame Cosette’s anyway, and the woman probably would’ve had to stitch three bras together and then nailed the damn contraption to my shoulders to get it to hold without losing a melon, so coconuts it is.
Besides, it’s the heels that are gonna be the bigger problem. Damn good thing I have ankles of fucking steel.
And my mini-dress is stretched to max capacity over the coconuts anyway. It’s also in danger of showing my other coconuts, if you catch my drift. And there’s definitely a drift—or is that a draft?—on my other coconuts.
A wolf whistle echoes through the swanky private clubhouse where I’m strolling in with my twin brother on my left and my brother from another mother on my right. A passing server drops a tray of champagne. Conversation stops. And a bunch of stuffy golf pricks gape at us like we’re a mutant alien circus freak show crashing their million-dollar wedding reception.
We’re three dudes who have more money than God, more muscles than all the Kardashians’ bodyguards combined, and more fun than cotton candy and roller coasters.
 

 

 



BLP REVIEW

I can honestly say that I loved The Pilot & the Puck-Up. Although the first book I’ve read in this series I’ve already gone back and 1-C’d the first two books from Pippa Grant.

Zeus and Joey were were funny together and when they finally got on the same page they were perfect for each other. Both hide behind a mask and a lot of bluster and show while at the same time being lonely and a bit vulnerable when anyone sees behind the facade!

This book was funny, hot, sweet, a little heart twisting but it was worth it to get to where this pair ended up. With a whole cast of great supporting characters – and yeah, even though I now know who some of the couples are, it’s not gonna detract from my enjoyment of the earlier books I’m sure.

I cannot wait for more from this crazy gang of ice hockey players and their soon to be other halves as well as looking forward to catching up with the already matched pairs!

For me, TP&tP-U gets 5 well deserved stars.

~ Tracy xx 

 


Also Available
 
 
FREE for a limited time!
 
AMAZON: US / UK / CA / AU
 
Always free in Kindle Unlimited
 
 
 
99c for a limited time!
 
AMAZON: US / UK / CA / AU
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited

 

 


Author Bio
 
Pippa Grant is a stay-at-home mom and housewife who loves to escape into sexy, funny stories way more than she likes perpetually cleaning toothpaste out of sinks and off toilet handles. When she’s not reading, writing, sleeping, or trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, she’s fantasizing about chocolate chip cookies.
 
Author Links
 
 

 

Giveaway
 

BLOG TOUR ~ RIPPED by Jake Irons

 

Ripped by Jake Irons is LIVE!!


Release Date: February 15th

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Designer: Letitia Hasser from RBA Designs


Add to
Goodreads

 

NOW AVAILABLE!

99¢ for LIMITED TIME!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

AMAZON US: 

AMAZON UK:

AMAZON CA: 

AMAZON AU: 

 

 

Blurb

Tripp Anders.

Formerly the best surfer in the world. Still Longview, Florida’s most famous son. And, starting this week, my boss.

My boss at my summer job. A job my parents made me get. A job my parents made me get because I hadn’t left the house since I moved home six months ago.

After my divorce.

I’m in my thirties, by the way.

…Yeah.

I thought trying to fit into a Hot Beach one-piece five mornings a week would be the toughest part of this job. Instead, it’s Tripp. He’s arrogant, condescending, and used to getting what he w

ants.

And what he wants right now is me.



EXCERPT

I open my door, flip on the lights, and hang back to let Bobby in first.

“What a gentleman.” She smiles over her shoulder.

I give her ass a smack, and she spins around, looking scandalized. “It’s not nice to call names.” I smirk.

“I should have said ‘scoundrel’ instead.”

She’s sauntering into the den, but I catch her arm and spin her back to me. Her hands end up on my chest, like we’re in a movie. Her fingers press my pecs as she smiles up at me. I squeeze her waist, wanting to bend her over my couch and smack her ass again. I get distracted by her luscious mouth…her gently smiling mouth. I want to kiss those lips and feel her breasts against my chest[K1] .

“What?” she giggles nervously.

I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Nothing.”

Then I close my eyes and brush her lips with mine. Bad idea. I know that. I’m surprised when Bobby groans. Her mouth opens for me, and my tongue strokes inside her. Fuck, her mouth is hot. Her body softens against mine; I wrap an arm around her waist as we kiss slowly…softer first, then forceful. My dick is throbbing, pushed against her belly. I start to rock against her, but then pull back, breathless.

“This okay?”

She laughs against my throat. “Yeah.”

“Sure?”

“You are my boss.”

I look down and find her smiling coyly.

“We shouldn’t do this, right?” I grin.

She rocks her hips against me—and that’s all I need.




AUTHOR THE AUTHOR

Jake Irons is the pseudonym of a male author living in Portland. He writes erotica at his desk at a stuffy corporate law office.

 

Connect with Jake:

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BLOG TOUR ~ Chasing Ordinary By Pandora Spocks

 

Chasing Ordinary
 by Pandora Spocks


Pandora is giving away The Dream Dominant Series 3 Book Bundle to three lucky winners.
Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops.
You may find those locations here
 

ABOUT THE BOOK:
Red-haired Petey Cavanaugh is a sculptor who welds steel and glass creations.  A young widow, she lives on her in-laws’ sheep ranch in Montana where she helps out during the day, working on her art at night.
Looking to raise money to expand the ranch’s business, she gratefully accepts her art school roommate’s offer of a gallery show in Manhattan.  It’s been years since she was in the city, and she’s happy to visit her old friend.
Nik is in New York on business.  He’s been traveling for nearly a month, enduring endless meetings, attending obligatory dinners, and battling jet-lag.  On his way to yet another business dinner, his world collides with Petey’s one rainy Manhattan night.
Their mutual attraction is immediate, but Nik’s skeptical.  Could it possibly be that this gorgeous, enchanting artist has no idea that he’s Europe’s most eligible prince?
Spending time with Petey is Nik’s first-ever taste of ordinary.  What will happen when she finds out the truth?

Release Date: February 13, 2018
Genres: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Heat Level: Erotic
BUY LINKS: 
Amazon |  Other Links Here




EXCERPT: 


Howard had been talking nonstop for twenty minutes.  Each time Petey thought she’d found the opportunity to extricate herself, he continued his rambling, while edging ever closer, invading her personal space, and chatting about his work and his home in New Jersey.  He seemed to be one of those individuals who was completely inept at picking up on social cues.
She’d just worked up the gumption to simply excuse herself the next time he came up for air, when she heard a familiar voice.
There you are, darling!”  Nik swooped in, handing her a glass of wine.  “I’m so sorry I’m late.  Will you ever forgive me?”  He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.
Stunned, Petey stammered a bit.  “Um, yes.  Well…darling, yes, you certainly are late.  What’s up with that?  I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I know.  But traffic was a nightmare, what with the rain.  You just wouldn’t believe it.”  Nik turned to Howard.  “Who’s your friend?”  He smiled pleasantly at the confused man.
“Oh, sorry.  Nik, this is Howard.  Howard, meet Nik.”
Howard worked his mouth, but was blissfully silent.
Nik reached to shake his hand.  “So nice to meet you.  If you’ll excuse us, I need to make up for lost time.  Come, darling.”
He grasped Petey’s hand and led her to the opposite side of the gallery.  When they reached a quiet corner, he turned and smiled at her.
She gave a relieved laugh.  “Oh, my God, for the second time tonight, you saved my bacon.”
Nik laughed, too.  “The exasperation on your face said that you needed rescuing.  Who was he anyway?”
“Some guy that my friend Jules thought I should meet.  I mean, he’s nice enough, but he had absolutely no sense of personal space.  And he would notstop talking.  Sheesh!”
“He’s probably just shy in the presence of such a pretty woman.”  Nik’s blue eyes sparkled.
Petey rolled her eyes.  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” she said sarcastically.  “I guess you ditched your business dinner?”
Nik nodded. “I did.”
She eyed him curiously.  “What kind of business are you in?”
He paused a beat.  “I’m in international finance and development.”
Warmth flooded her face, and she knew she was blushing.  A sheepish smile curled her lips.  “I have no idea what that means.”
He smiled, too.  “I travel and meet with business people, mostly, occasionally politicians, and we discuss ways to improve our national economies, and ways to assist developing economies as well.”
“Oh.  I’m sure Jules would understand completely.  She has a sharp business mind.  I’m just so,” she gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “right-brained.”
She fanned herself lightly with her hand.  “So, you’d had enough of finances and development for one night?”
Nik nodded agreeably.  “I’ve worked all day.  As I sat listening to more business conversation, all I could think was that I’d like to attend the gallery opening of a promising young sculptor.”
Petey’s eyes sparkled mischievously.  “Well, if I hear of any, I’ll let you know.”  They both laughed together.
“I just watched your video.  Such an interesting way to introduce yourself to patrons.”
“Oh, that.”  Petey blushed.  “Jules flew out to Montana a couple of months ago.  She hired a film crew to follow me for a day, do interviews and stuff.  Then they just put it together.”
He regarded her curiously, eyes sparkling.  “What are the chances you’d give me a guided tour of this incredible exhibit?”
She pretended to consider his request.  “Well, you did see to it that I was put back together after being blasted by that tidal wave.   And, you rescued me from being talked to death by a close-talking dentist.  I’d say your odds are pretty good.”  She laughed.  “I think bringing me a glass of wine put you over the top, though.”
Nik laughed, too.  “Lucky for me, then.”

“Lucky for you.  Okay, let’s take a tour.”



 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

No automatic alt text available.

Pandora Spocks is a sassy ginger and hopeless romantic, living her happily ever after in South Florida.  She enjoys reading and writing literary erotic romance.  


She is the author of the three-novel epic romance Rannigan’s Redemption, and a naughty little romantic novella, Just One Night.  Her Dream Dominant Collection is a series of light BDSM stand-alone novels featuring sexy Alpha males and the strong red-haired submissives who can’t resist them.  The collection currently includes three novels: Luke & Bella, Lost & Bound, and For Sparrow.

Pandora is busy on her laptop, working on her next spicy romance.
 

CONNECT WITH PANDORA

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GIVEAWAY

Enter to win one of three sets of The Dream Dominant Series 3 Book Bundle

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RELEASE BLAST ~ Lustful Longings (Lustful Trilogy #3) by Maggie Adams

The Widow finds exactly what she desires in her lover and is determined to keep him at all costs.

Out Feb 13th – Lustful Longings by Maggie Adams

Follow the blitz and enter to #win a $10 Amazon gift card or one of five digital copies of Lustful Letters!

Enter HERE: 


Title: Lustful Longings
Series: Lustful Trilogy #3
Author: Maggie Adams

 

Genre: Women’s Erotica
Release Date: February 13. 2018
Length: 76 Pages

 

Blurb:

I have found my dream lover and, appropriately, his name is Morpheus. He has shown me how to be truly free in my sexuality; to trust another human being with my deepest desires; and to love without reservation or fear. We have a true power exchange when we play – no, we do not play, we live! Our lives and our sexual lifestyle have evolved so that one constantly compliments the other. I can’t imagine a happier, more fulfilling life.

Then, my world tilts on its axis.

Reality returns with a vengeance. My lover becomes ill and I find myself fighting for my former, happy life. Morpheus is ambivalent to his fate. He is more concerned with my future happiness without him. His abhorrence to leave me “a Widow” again, alone and afraid, leads him to formulate a plan to send me into the arms of another man. But his desperate longings to see me in passion’s embrace make him take the role of a cuckold. He has picked the man to help me if he should not survive, but it’s a double-edged sword as he forces himself to watch me falling deeper into the arms of the man he has chosen to replace him in all ways.

My guilt and longing for this man sends me to seek the help of an old friend. While I am welcomed with open arms, the lovely Bianca has plans of her own. In the end, it is up to Morpheus to either release me into the arms of new lovers, or allow me to ease his Lustful Longings in a new way.

 

Find out more at:
Goodreads | Amazon


Excerpt One:

I lounge upon the chaise, sipping sparkling champagne as the New Year begins. My lover is poised on the tufted velvet arm, his fingers gliding along the exposed skin of my collarbone. The mirrored walls reflect the beauty of our surroundings and the people within. The chandeliers twinkle brightly near the mahogany ceiling, the gilt and glamour of the 1920’s permeates this particular party, and yet, the myriad collection of apparatuses for bondage, pain, and pleasure take up most of the room. A surrealistic interpretation of the predilections (or perhaps peculiarities is a better word), of the Master of House.

And here we sit in the middle of it all, my lover and me. He is adorned in the requisite tuxedo, it is a formal affair after all, with the only nod to the true nature of this gathering, a slim crop in his hand. He told me he really should have a walking stick to complete the outfit, but I wasn’t quite ready for that type of fun yet.

While he was the epitome of formal elegance, I, on the other hand, was resplendent in a red satin Merrywidow with black lace overlay and pretty red bows fastening the finest silk stockings that encased my legs. Black opera gloves covered my hands and arms, pearl bracelets and ruby rings adding charm.  The large ruby and gold earrings that swayed when I turned my head and the diamond clip that held back my hair were the real thing.

My Master was a generous man and wanted everyone to know it, so for me it was jewelry; for others, it was a simple offer to one and all to sample the delight he was privileged to call his own. So, I sat with him, the corset pushing up my breasts until my nipples tipped the edge of lace and allowed strangers to rub or pinch “the raspberry perfections” that my Master tasted every night. I didn’t mind. There was something quite exciting about another man or woman touching me while my Master looked on. It stirred the recklessness within me and made our love play more explosive.

I smiled to myself and took a sip of the champagne. If the folks back home could see me now. They would raise scandalous eyebrows to the ceiling, send prayers for my sinful ways in the Sunday sermon, and whisper of the “Merry Widow” at the local Moose club.  All would be filled with righteous indignation that someone like me had ever graced their idyllic community.

I parted my legs on the chaise as my Master requested, the warm air hitting my nakedness. The scent of my arousal permeated the air while a woman tentatively touched my slick labia. Yes, the old town would be in an outrage at my debauchery.  Especially if I ever published my dear diary.  More specifically, if I didn’t change the names to protect the not-so-innocent of their town within the pages of my sexual journal. That’s right; although many wore masks to the dungeon parties, I knew who each member or guest was. After all, my Master owned the most exclusive club in town.

I sighed as a wave of pleasure coursed through me while the young woman licked her fingers. I raised my glass as her companion shouted, “To the Widow and her Morpheus! You make all our dreams come true!”

 

Excerpt Two:

My hand caresses your neck, my lovely widow, drawing you in for a kiss, and I suck your lower lip between my lips possessively and suggestively, kissing you lightly, then with more passion.

Your kisses inflame me! My heart is pounding. I feel your lips so firm and unyielding and I melt. Yes! This! This is what I need so desperately. To be cherished, adored, caressed…Your hand slides down the small of my back, lingers on my bottom, then pulls me toward you, sliding me onto your lap, where your arousal for me is evident… I suck your tongue into my mouth in appreciation for the tender caress and feel my head swirl in amorous intoxication.

Mmm, kisses, the brush of your fingertips along my throat, the taste of your skin on my tongue….

Do you feel the surge of arousal pumping through my veins as we begin to touch?

Yes! I feel your need and I wiggle a bit to fuel the fire, knowing the dampness between my legs is caused by you, how you kiss me, touch me, desire me….it adds to my need for you.

Ahh, my breath hitches, my stomach clenches as your fingertips glide, igniting the fire along my skin.

Our lips meet again, and we are transported to the place where desires are like wishes granted; fulfilled at the touch of lips, the subtle shifting of bodies, the tender gazes of lovers entwined. I am impatient for more, and yet I don’t want this moment to end…. Kiss me again and again! For there is only the moment and the two of us. You are everything to me, Morpheus.

I waited for his next text. It never came. After a few moments, I sashayed into the living room, naked, of course, because that was the way he liked to see me at home. I saw him sitting in the chair, looking out over the ocean.

“Sweetheart?” I approached with a laugh. “I want more than texts and kisses, you know. We can’t role play, if you don’t ‘play’”.

It was then that he turned his head, his mouth curled down and drooping. The vacant look in his eyes was chilling.

“Mama?”

With horror, I grabbed the phone from his limp hand and dialed 911.


About Maggie Adams:

Maggie Adams is an Amazon Best Selling contemporary romance author. Her first book in the Tempered Steel Series, Whistlin’ Dixie, debuted in Amazon’s Top 100 for Women’s Fiction, humor, on November, 2014. Since then, she has consistently made the Amazon best seller 5-star list with Leather and Lace, Something’s Gotta Give, and Love, Marriage & Mayhem. She is also the recipient of the Dayreader Review’s Best New Series Award for 2015. Her series has launched the tiny town of Grafton, Illinois, into International recognition with sales in Mexico, Ireland, Scotland, Australia and the UK.

Back home, she resides in the Midwest, with her high school sweetheart, Ned, and their children, Katie (Kyle) and Ross (Valerie) and first granddaughter, Lorelei, otherwise known as “The Boss”

You can connect with her online at:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads | Instagram | Pinterest | BookBub



RELEASE BLITZ ~ Love Over Lattes (Desert Monsoon #1) by Diana A. Hicks

 

 

 

 
 
Title: Love Over Lattes
Series: Desert Monsoon #1
Author: Diana A. Hicks

Publisher: Wild Rose Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 7, 2018
 
Blurb

Single mom Valentina wants to provide a good life for her son, starting with the perfect home. When the deal on her dream house falls through, rather than move back in with her parents and disappoint them and her son once again, she accepts the help of the intimidating-as-hell stranger she’s admired from her coffee shop seat for the last six months. She’s afraid to fall for the wrong guy again, so she makes Cole promise to keep their relationship strictly professional.
 
Following his failed marriage, Cole can’t find a reason to care about anything or anyone. Saving his company from his ex-wife is the only thing that has kept him afloat for the past six months. As loneliness sets in and he begins to lose the fight over his company, Valentina becomes his lifeline. Cole wants to be more than her landlord, and he has a plan to get her to release him from his promise.
 

 


 

 
Purchase Links

 

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


Trailer


Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/22bda7nhwg4bew64pbzzbs6kq/playlist/7h1Yn3z07vxZhlaSOmc5zq


Excerpt

The VIP of the VIP room in yet another section in the ginormous warehouse was smaller and more intimate than the last two. At the far end of the room, a violinist played an old tango I knew well, “Mano a Mano.” The sensual and melancholic melody added to the decadent setting of the place. Probably the reason Cole didn’t want to bring me here.
His tent was cozy, all done in white leather furnishings and infused with a faint scent of vanilla. Under the shimmer of the small chandelier overhead, my dress looked scarlet red. I swallowed and smoothed out the fabric around my waist. This was the worst place to tell him about his ex’s plans. I plumped myself on the sofa, and a few pillows dropped to the floor.
“Oh, sorry.” I bent to pick them up.
“Leave it.” Cole caught my hand. He unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and sat.
Out of habit, or cowardice, I inched over to my left to make room. He gave me a bright smile that said nice try. “Make up your mind, Valentina. I can’t take this any longer.”
A hot puddle of unrealized desire, I melted a little every time he said my name. I squeezed my legs together and scooted some more. This sofa wasn’t big enough for the two of us. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you want to kiss me or not?” He slid across the cushion, closing the space between us. “Ask me.”
I adjusted my weight on the seat. He tightened his hold on my fingers. God, even if I had wanted to flee, I didn’t think my legs would respond. Cocking his head, he rubbed his thumb across the inside of my wrist where my pulse was visible.
“I want you.” The words left my lips of their own accord. I had meant to say something else, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what.
“Close enough, sweetheart.” Cupping the nape of my neck, he took my mouth with a longing that sent a wave of adrenaline from my core to my toes. Heat pulsed between my thighs as the tip of his tongue teased mine. I leaned in and sucked gently. I might not get another chance to taste him.
He eased me back on the sofa, and I landed on a bed of soft and silky decorative pillows. A groan escaped his lips, making my nerves dissolve. Did he want me as much as I wanted him? The knowledge that he might fueled the daring side of me. My hand trembled as I slipped it inside his jacket and kneaded the hard muscles under his shirt. I pulled on it, my fingers itching to touch his skin.
  

 

 
 
 


 
Author Bio
 
Diana became an avid reader when she found her first romance novel tucked away in a corner of her high school library. The more books she read, the more she wanted to be a
writer. Diana has a Master’s degree in information systems and accountancy and for many years worked for a major Fortune 100 telecommunications company as an IT project manager (As one does when pursuing a career as a romance author.)
These days, when she’s not writing, Diana enjoys running half marathons, traveling, and indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate.
She lives in Atlanta and loves spending time with her two children and husband.
 
Author Links
 

BEYOND SERIES REBRANDED COVER REVEAL ~ Beyond Ecstasy (Beyond #8) by Kit Rocha

    

Beyond Rebrand Blog Reveal

Beyond Ecstasy
by Kit Rocha

 

 

BREE’S COVER NOTES

I always thought Beyond Ecstasy would be one of the easiest covers to design, but this one took me the longest. Many of our heroines protect themselves by wearing masks, but it’s usually one mask, a distinct mask. Their mask.  Jeni, on the other hand, is like a master of disguise. She dons personas for the stage and discards them just as easily.

She’s comfortable in a sun dress on Hawk’s family’s farm—which was the first concept I tried. Farm equipment didn’t look sexy in the background, it turned out! But she’s also comfortable glammed up and lounging in fabulously lavish luxury. And since she and Hawk had a very intimate moment in such surroundings, that’s where I finally decided to place her. Sexy, sensual, glamorous…but with just a hint of vulnerability. Because her mask is about to come off.


BLURB

The O’Kanes have a reputation for working hard and playing harder—except for Hawk. He joined the gang with one goal: to ensure his family’s survival through the impending war with Eden. It’s been years since he had the luxury of wanting anything for himself. Now, he wants Jeni. From the first moment he saw her, he’s been obsessed with making her his. Not for a night—forever.

Jeni’s been lusting after the former smuggler for months, but he keeps shutting her down. She’s almost given up on getting him in her bed when he offers her the last thing she ever expected—a collar. Accepting it means belonging to him, body and soul. It’s a reckless gamble, but Jeni can’t resist the chance to slip under Hawk’s armor.

The only thing more shocking than the dark, dangerous pleasure they discover is how right it feels. But falling in love is even more reckless when forever is far from guaranteed. Because they aren’t just at war, they’re out of time—and every breath could be their last.


BUY LINKS

Website:

Amazon

B & N

Kobo

Apple

Google


EXCERPT:

Chapter One

Hawk couldn’t decide which would drive him crazy first—the shadows or the light.

The shadows, that was the easy answer. The sectors had been dark for a month now, driven back to the earliest days after the Flares. Back home in Six, things wouldn’t be so bad. The farms had always survived off wind and solar energy, and as powerful as Eden was, they couldn’t still the air or blot out the sun. But sectors like Four relied on whatever electricity they could borrow, beg, or steal from Eden’s grid. Blackouts had always been an infrequent annoyance.

Now they were a constant reality—and Sector Four was unraveling under the strain.

That was why Hawk was out for his fourth night in a row, patrolling the market square with Jasper. He could feel people watching them from behind closed doors and windows, from hidden alleys and sheltering walls. Watching and waiting. Calculating their chances of getting away with whatever trouble they’d been planning to start. Out of fear, or desperation, or just to relieve the unrelenting tension.

But all those stares couldn’t raise the hair on the back of his neck like glancing over his shoulder toward the city.

The darkness was awful, but the light posed the real danger. Hell, it was going to make them all crazy. Eden’s damn glowing walls, sparking with all the power they’d stolen from the sectors. Precious electricity twisted into a weapon and a warning and brazen, bragging psychological warfare.

During the day, you could almost ignore it. But when the sun dipped below the western hills, all anyone could see was Eden’s walls, lighting up the night in a silent reminder that everything had changed.

“Nothing.” Jas growled, a low noise in the back of his throat. “I hate the waiting.”

I hate the waiting. Words that summed up life in the sectors now, on every fucking level. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“The intel is good.” Jasper pulled a cigarette from his pocket, but he didn’t light it. “Two shops and someone’s house have been hit on this block in the last week.”

The intel might be good, but crime wasn’t simple anymore. Some people were stealing out of greed and need, but more and more had been starting shit just to start it. The wave of petty crime had dropped after the O’Kanes bumped up fight night to twice a week—an approved outlet for violence with a chance to make some money was math even an idiot could do—but the feeling was back, seething from the shadows, growing day by day.

If something didn’t happen soon, every damn night would have to be fight night.

Jas rubbed the spot between his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

Hawk nodded in agreement and fell into step next to Jas as he turned toward the city. Even this far away, an ache was already forming behind his eyes. He knew how many blocks they could walk before the ache blossomed into pain, and how many more before nausea joined the party.

No one could live this close to the wall anymore. Some of the shopkeepers who’d kept homes above their shops had been driven back after the first two weeks. A few stubbornly stayed—pale and drawn and increasingly sick from the constant exposure.

Hawk couldn’t understand how. When they cleared the last row of buildings, he could feel the damn thing in his bones, thrumming, itching, humming. It took all his self-control not to turn the fuck around and run for it.

But he couldn’t. Not until he and Jas had completed their most grisly task of the night.

The open space closest to the curving walls was strewn with abandoned carts and trash no one had bothered to pick up. No shadows lurked here—just eerie, unnatural illumination that made Hawk’s eyeballs itch and washed everything out into silver and blue.

Especially the dark form standing at the wall, his hands wrapped around a line of wire.

“Fuck,” Jasper muttered. “Motherfucker.”

Suicide-by-Eden. The newest threat facing the sectors, and the most hopeless.

Jas was already pushing through the carts, looking for something they could use to knock the body loose. They’d pry this poor bastard off the wall the way they’d done the ones before, but they couldn’t hide what was happening. The whispers would spread, and tomorrow would be a little worse than today.

People were giving up. Old-timers who’d lived through the first terrible years after the Flares, who couldn’t face doing it again. Their children, who’d grown up with the horror stories, with nightmares that only intensified in the telling.

The worst were the kids. Teenagers, really—adults by the rules that guided the sectors but still fucking children in the way that mattered. Too young to understand mortality and too fucking scared to fight, because they’d already spent all of their short lives fighting. If they had to drag another kid off the wall—

Jas came back with a board, and Hawk reached for it. “I’ll do it.”

The man hesitated only for a moment before handing over the plank of wood. “Careful, man.”

Hawk didn’t relish getting closer, but Jas couldn’t afford to take the risk at all. Too much rested on his shoulders—and Hawk sure as fuck wasn’t going back to the compound to face Noelle after letting her boyfriend fry himself. “I got it.”

He approached carefully, setting each foot down firmly to eliminate any chance of tripping. By the time he was within swinging distance, his teeth were vibrating. The low buzz filled his ears, and maybe that was a blessing.

There was nothing pretty about trying to knock a corpse off the wires that had electrocuted him.

The first swing didn’t budge the man. And it was a man—or had been. His clothes were as singed as his skin, burned black by the heat generated by the high current coursing through him. The sickly scent of roasted flesh filled Hawk’s nostrils, and he held his breath as he swung again. Harder.

This time, the blow managed to dislodge the dead man’s grip on the wires, and he tumbled to the cracked pavement in a heap.

Jasper closed his eyes with a low, pained noise, then dropped to a crouch beside the prone body. “Burial detail?” he asked hoarsely. “Who’s on it tonight?”

“Flash and the new kid. Tank.” Hawk joined him. “Do you recognize him?”

“No.” Jas looked up. “Seems like that would make it easier, doesn’t it?”

Nothing could make this easy. This moment—the horror of it, the fucking useless waste of it—it would always hurt. And it should.

But at least they didn’t have to go back to the compound and break the news to the dead guy’s friends. Not like last week, when they’d trudged home to face Tatiana. The woman they’d peeled off the wall that night had brought Tatiana lunch from her food cart every day for damn near five years.

Hawk might still end the evening drunk, but he wouldn’t be covered in someone else’s tears this time. Practically a banner fucking night—his most morbid thought yet. “I hope it never gets easy. I don’t want to think about what that would mean.”

“Truth.” Jas turned his head away from the wisps of smoke rising from the corpse and rose. “I worry about the effect this has on people.”

Hawk had spent enough time with Jas now to read between the lines. The man would never betray a weakness in the king and queen of Sector Four, but shit. You’d have to be a monster not to feel it, and while Dallas and Lex’s reputations could be plenty monstrous, Hawk knew they were both very, very human.

And, friend or not, Jas had to break this news to them every damn time.

There was nothing Hawk could say to make it better. No way to fix it. All he could do was toss the board aside and grab a ragged tarp from one of the carts to toss over the body. “I’ll find Tank and Flash. Get it taken care of.”

“No, I’ll handle it.” Jas punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve been working hard. Have some fun tonight.”

Hawk huffed. “Fucking hypocrite.”

“Hey, it’s my load to bear, not yours.”

Easy words, but they were the reason Hawk had come to this sector. The reason he’d joined the O’Kanes, and the reason he had come to embrace them. For Jas, they weren’t just words. He meant them. The O’Kanes didn’t just believe in the pleasure that came with power. They believed in the responsibility, too.

For that, Hawk would follow them into hell. Maybe literally.

He squeezed Jas’s shoulder. “You sure? I got nowhere to be.” No one waiting for him, either.

“Hell, yeah.” Jasper jerked his head in the direction of the O’Kane compound. “Go. Crack open a bottle. We’re all gonna need it tonight.”

Hawk should have protested again, but an order was an order, and his churning gut and aching head were motivation enough. Dignity kept him out of a flat run, but he still made it through the market in record time, not slowing down until he reached the first row of tall apartment buildings and their reassuring shadows.

The darkness definitely wasn’t the enemy.

Neither was the silence. Noises teased at the edge of his senses—a slammed door, the scuffle of footsteps. Voices carried on the wind, too far away to reach him as more than a whisper. Hawk kept his hand close to his gun and pretended he wasn’t half-hoping someone would see a guy on his own as a tempting target.

It was two more nights until he’d have a chance at climbing into the cage. Two more nights of twisted up tension and anger and frustration with no damn outlet, because the only outlet he wanted—

No. No, he wouldn’t think of her like this, not while he smelled of death and dreamt of violence. He needed to purge the darkness first.

He needed a fucking drink.

That was what he told himself, anyway, when he swung right and headed for the entrance to the Broken Circle instead of the back gate that led to the living quarters.

Zan was guarding the door. He took one look at Hawk and cursed viciously. “Another one?”

So much for his poker face. “Yeah. Jas didn’t recognize him, but…”

Zan’s scowl deepened, then disappeared behind his hands as he scrubbed them over his face. “You headed inside?”

“I need a drink. Has it been crazy?”

“Different kind than usual.” Zan’s glower returned, full force. “Not real busy, but we’re having to keep four on the floor so the little shits’ll stay in line.”

Maybe he’d get his fight after all. Hawk slapped Zan on the shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”

“Swing by the kitchen,” Zan advised as he pushed open the door.

The music washed over Hawk as he stepped inside, the throbbing of the bass vibrating in his bones in different way than the electric pain of the wall. It dragged his gaze to the stage even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t look—

He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved to see Trix up there, midway through her most popular act. Leather and steel and naked challenge—her movements were the O’Kane reputation distilled into a dance as potent as their whiskey.

The crowd was going wild. Cheering and hollering, leaning forward in anticipation that built with every teasing twist of her body. Hawk hesitated—not watching her, but the room itself. Bouncers bracketed the stage, a burly reminder not to get any ideas about appreciating the show up-close and personal.

Trix would be fine. If Hawk had had any doubts, he would have stayed. Not just because he owed it to Finn to look after his woman, but out of fondness for Trix herself.

Most of the time, he coped with the O’Kane women by treating them the way he would his sisters. With Trix, that came easy. She’d been to his home, had met his family. She was bound to Hawk’s oldest friend among the O’Kanes, the first one he’d called brother and meant it.

Affection would have prompted him to stay if she needed protection. And affection was the reason he booked it to the kitchen. This night was fucked up enough without watching a sister take her clothes off.

The kitchen was bright compared to the front room, light gleaming off steel counters and appliances. Somewhere beneath their feet, the finest collection of generators in the sectors were humming away, providing an oasis from the silent darkness of the rest of the sectors. Hawk suspected they could cancel the shows altogether and people would still show up, as much for the light and the sound as the liquor.

But the kitchen was quieter, the cheers and music muffled. Rachel sat on a stool at one high counter, a sharp knife in one hand and half a lemon in the other. “Hawk.” She gestured to him. “Have a seat.”

“Hey, Rachel.” He slid onto the stool next to her and eyed the lemon. She was only a few months pregnant, barely even showing yet, but the baby was definitely making its presence felt. “Queasy again?”

“Mmm.” She dropped another slice of lemon into the glass of water in front of her and lifted it. “This is the only thing that helps right now.”

No wonder Zan had sent him to the kitchen. Growing up on the farms in Six meant spending your life surrounded by women in various stages of pregnancy. But in a sector like Four, pregnant women were mysterious, dangerous creatures who suffered from inexplicable symptoms that sent the men—and women—around them into a panic.

Hawk honestly didn’t know how Amira had gotten through it without stabbing them all.

He edged the cutting board away from Rachel and picked up the knife. “You use ginger in your beer, don’t you?”

“In some of them. Why?”

“You should try that.” He gestured to the glass with the knife. “You can brew it into a tea. It helped my stepmothers and sisters.”

Rachel smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Hawk.”

Poor girl. Hawk kissed the top of her head. “I’ll show Cruz how to make it when he gets back in.”

“I think he’d like that.” She lifted her head. “Bad night?”

“Not the worst. Not the best, either.” He offered her a crooked smile. “We hiding any of the good stuff back here?”

She reached under the cabinet nearest her and pulled out a bottle half-full of rich, amber liquor. “Not the best,” she said, turning his words around on him. “But not the worst, either.”

“Perfect.” He grabbed a glass and let her pour out a triple, then raised it to her in silent salute. She clinked her glass of water against his, and they both took a sip. “Shit, not the best is still better than we had on the farm.”

“One of the perks of being an O’Kane.”

There were many, and only one of them had factored into Hawk’s determination to join. He’d been on a mission, with Dallas O’Kane square in his sights. Dallas hadn’t even been the general of a newly formed rebellion back then, just a sector leader with a barbaric reputation that clashed with his history of being calculated, clever, and dangerous as fuck.

Hawk had recognized power. It took intelligence and forethought to cultivate an image that made the O’Kanes’ enemies consistently underestimate them, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. The drinking and fucking and partying were perks, but they were also part of the act—painting themselves as sinners fighting just hard enough to indulge their lusts in luxury.

Rachel was watching him. “Everyone thinks this is what it’s about—all the booze you can drink, and all the hell you can raise. That, or the sex. But there’s something to be said for comfort, you know? For not having to be alone with your thoughts after a hard day.”

He swirled the liquor around his glass and tried to find the words. That was what she wanted—for him to unburden himself, to fall into the easy rhythm of chatter and sharing that seemed to come naturally to everyone else.

He could talk about ginger tea. About his sisters’ new farm, or cars, or the business of keeping the sector running. Facts and knowledge, clean and simple. Small talk. But Rachel wanted more.

What else was he supposed to do? Tell a pregnant woman about the corpse he’d just pried off the walls, walls that surrounded a city that might attack them at any second? Tell her about the smell of it, so stark and pungent that even the lemon and whiskey couldn’t overcome it?

Tell her about the fear in their guts every time they faced another suicide, wondering if this time they’d turn the body over and find what was left of a familiar face?

He snorted and took another sip. “Some thoughts are too damn bleak to share.”

“And some are too bleak to keep to yourself.” The lights overhead flickered, and her fingers tightened on her glass. “We’re in a stressful spot here, Hawk. It’s bad enough even if you do let yourself deal with it. But if you lock it away…”

“I know.” He rubbed the edge of his glass. “It’s dark out there, Rachel. And we all thought we were good at that, living in the dark. But this isn’t the same.”

She brushed his hand, a light touch that lasted for only a moment. “Just remember that you don’t have to be alone, okay?”

“I’m not alone.” The truth wrapped around a lie, because there were so many ways to be lonely, and Rachel could say it wasn’t about booze and sex, but it wasn’t that simple. Not when you were an O’Kane.

Rachel sighed. “You don’t do subtle, do you, Hawk?”

No, he really didn’t. Especially not the way these O’Kane women did, issuing invitations and propositions with their smiles and their soft touches—not that he thought Rachel was coming on to him. But there’d been another poured drink, another soft touch—

Don’t think about her. Not now.

Because telling yourself not to think about someone worked really damn well. Hawk finished his drink, reached for the bottle, and tried to prove Rachel wrong. “Jeni’s not dancing tonight?”

Surprise and a little rueful amusement flashed in Rachel’s eyes. “She’s upstairs, working on something new.”

Hawk turned the knowledge over as he splashed more liquor into his glass. Jeni, upstairs. Alone, maybe, working on a new dance. Sweat glistening on her skin, her breath coming short and fast, her body loose and supple.

Practice meant Jeni. Not the wigs and costumes and makeup that turned her into any of a dozen characters she used to work the stage or the bar, but the woman he glimpsed in quiet moments.

Beautiful. Fearless. Sad.

He could go upstairs. Bring the bottle with him, smile at her. He knew shit-all about romance and women, but he knew know how good fucking could be. Fast and hot enough to burn through all the tension tying him up, better than a thousand fight nights.

And then it would be over. Jeni would leave, because that was how the O’Kanes worked. Friendly. Casual. Easy.

Until someone else smiled at Jeni at the next party, and Hawk was overwhelmed by the unacceptable urge to punch their damn teeth in.

O’Kanes definitely didn’t do jealousy.

Rachel was still watching him, her rueful amusement melting into a smile. So he headed her off. “Don’t get any ideas. I got a couple dozen sisters, Rachel. I know that look.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she denied. “I was just saying that a little company never hurts. And,” she added, talking over his half-hearted protest, “that it doesn’t have to be about sex. There are hundreds of ways to reach out to someone, and that’s just truth.”

“I know,” he grumbled. And because he did have a couple dozen sisters, he knew he had to do one thing—change the damn subject. “That’s why I’m in here, drinking with you.”

Her smile turned into a grin, and she lifted her glass of water again. “To friends.”

“To friends,” he echoed, knocking their glasses together. Tonight, he would avoid Jeni and track down Cruz instead. Every discomfort Rachel suffered put the poor bastard on high alert, and Hawk could sympathize with his feeling of helplessness.

Brewing ginger tea might not seem like the best use of an elite soldier’s time, but feeling like he’d helped would soothe Cruz, which would soothe Rachel and Ace. Not a bad exchange for a little cup of tea.

And maybe with Ace in a good mood, Hawk could ask him a few questions. Casual. Easy. Just two O’Kanes, making small talk about life and fucking and all the ways they intersected in Sector Four.

If he could just figure out the right damn questions, someone might give him the answers that ended with Jeni in his bed for more than one night.


(Note: if you like your books to match and are worried, don’t be!
You’ll still be able to get the old covers in print at online retailers.)



Follow this link to KR’s website where you can view all of the new covers revealed so far…



Right now, book #1 in the series is free!!

 

All Noelle Cunningham has ever wanted was a life beyond–beyond her stifling role as a prim and proper councilman’s daughter, and beyond the walls of the patriarchal city of Eden, the only remnants of safety in a world destroyed by solar storms decades earlier. But when she’s banished for violating the prohibition against immorality, she’s unprepared for the lawless world outside the city’s walls.

The sectors surrounding Eden house those abandoned to fend for themselves–men like Jasper McCray, bootlegger and cage fighter. Jas clawed his way up from nothing to stand at the right hand of Sector Four’s ruthless leader, and he’ll defend the O’Kane gang with his life. But fighting hasn’t prepared him for dealing with a sheltered City princess who falls at his feet.

Her innocence is undeniable, but so is her intense sexual curiosity. Soon they’re exploring every dark fantasy she’s ever been ashamed to have. But if Noelle wants to claim her place with the O’Kanes and at Jas’s side, she’ll have to find the courage to embrace something even more terrifying than her own desires.

Her own power.


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Audio Version


Below you can find the absolute in-chronological-order reading order for all of the books, novellas and stories set in and around Eden and the Sectors. The KR gals do their best to make it so you can read the novels in order without missing anything if you skip the novellas and stories, but for those of you who like to read it all, in order…here you go!

Beyond Shame (novel)

Beyond Control (novel)

Beyond Denial (outtake)

Beyond Pain (novel)

Beyond Temptation (novella)

Beyond Jealousy (novel)

Beyond Solitude (novella)

Beyond Addiction (novel)

Beyond Possession (novella)

Beyond Innocence (novel)

Closed Doors (short story)

Blank Canvas (short story)

Beyond Ruin (novel)

Beyond Ecstasy (novel)

Beyond Surrender (novel)

Creative Incentives (short story)

Ashwin (novel)

Beyond Doubt (novella)

Deacon (novel)

Cravings (short story)

Beyond Forever (novella)



ABOUT THE AUTHOR
10346621_246084782249781_2764953186025781190_n

 Kit Rocha is the pseudonym for co-writing team Donna Herren and Bree Bridges. After penning dozens of paranormal novels,
novellas and stories as Moira Rogers, they branched out into gritty, sexy dystopian romance.


The series has appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, and was honored with a 2013 RT Reviewer’s Choice award.


Find out more at their website, or sign up to be notified of their next release.


AUTHOR LINKS:

Website (Kit Rocha):
Website (Moira Rogers):
Facebook:
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Twitter (Announcements):

Twitter (Bree):
Twitter (Donna):

Merchandise


 

SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ That Killer Smile (Bite Nights, #3) by Juliet Lyons

   

Title: That Killer Smile
Series: Bite Nights, #3

Author: Juliet Lyons

 

That Killer Smile (Bite Nights) by [Lyons, Juliet]

Pub Date: February 6, 2018

 

THERE WILL BE HEAT…

Vampire Catherine Adair gave up trying to find her perfect match ages ago. But that didn’t stop her from founding London’s super successful vampire dating site. When a smoldering vampire overlord from her past launches an interspecies speed-dating service, Catherine vows to crush the competition…. 

WHEN THESE TWO COMPETE

Ronin’s new venture is purely about getting Catherine’s attention. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her ever since the night she gave him the cold shoulder. Nobody gets away from Ronin McDermott that easily…

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Praise for the Bite Nights series…

“Combines the familiar with the new to bring a fresh spin on the vampire romance.” – Kirkus

-A madcap adventure of biting humor, steamy chemistry, eclectic characters and some over-the-top antics. A strong and personable heroine delights as she navigates her way through the treacherous waters of online dating.- RT Book Reviews

-Charming and racy romance meets rousing mystery . . . relatable characters and a well-crafted setting make this a promising start to an intriguing series. – Publishers Weekly
 

“Lyons delivers with hot and heavy scenes that take the sexy vampire trope to an all new level.” – Booklist

“If you’re looking for a story both light and sexy, this may just be the one for you.” – Heroes and Heartbreakers

“Guaranteed to keep you reading well into the night.” – BookPage


 

Excerpts

#1

Cat

My first thought when I see the smashed lock is, How on earth did a burglar make it past Mrs. Colangelo?

I shove the door open and step inside. There, sitting—no lounging—in my Laura Ashley recliner and stroking Wentworth, is Ronin fuck weasel McDermott.

My eyes bulge as I absorb the preposterous scene of him sitting with my pet in his lap. He looks like an infuriatingly hot James Bond villain.

“Evening, Catherine,” he says with a nod of his head.

I glare into his intense blue eyes, fists clenching. “What the actual fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

He cocks a brow before rising from the chair, taking Wentworth with him. The latter stays snuggled under his arm, as docile as a newborn lamb.

Pointing at Wentworth, I hiss, “Did you glamour my cat?”

A cloud of confusion passes across his handsome features. “Why on God’s earth would I glamour a cat?”

Without missing a beat, I snap, “That’s what you do to get people to like you.”

He feigns an injured look before setting Wentworth down on the carpet. Then he reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a tiny object. It twinkles beneath the light. “You dropped this earring in my office. It must have fallen out when you kissed me.”

I snort in derision. “Ha! Yeah, I kissed you. Good one. And you came all the way here, broke in to my apartment just to return it to me?”

“I’ll get the lock fixed,” he says, placing the earring on the coffee table. “And I didn’t break in as such. One of your neighbors let me up.”

I shake my head. “Let me guess, an Italian lady in a robe?”

He smiles and I try not to notice how it softens the hard lines of his strong features, how his cool-blue eyes are suffused with warmth.

“There’s a chance she believes lover boy next door is bisexual.”

“What the hell did you tell her?” I ask, folding arms across my chest. The mention of Peter comes as a shock. Being in the same room as Ronin McDermott, I’ve already forgotten he exists.

“Nothing she didn’t secretly long to hear. So who is this guy anyway? Should I be jealous?”

My stomach flips, my mind skipping back to that moment in his office when I left him with a hard-on in the presence of Playboy bunnies. “Jealous?” I try to inject venom into my voice, but my heart isn’t in it. “Tell me, did you enjoy yourself with those girls the other afternoon?”

His brows knit. He looks genuinely flummoxed. “What girls?”

I toss my bag onto the sofa. “Meant that much to you, did they?”

He stays frozen to the spot, brows drawn. “Do you really think I care about other girls?”

His voice is low, as cracked as splintered glass. Suddenly, it seems as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. As I meet his burning gaze, it’s like the last couple of days—work, my date with Peter—never happened. I’m back in his office right before his lips landed on mine.

Except this time neither of us budge.

“You’re a sickness,” he says at last in that same fractured tone. “Don’t you see? A sickness in my veins.”

My brain sifts through responses at a hundred miles per hour, but my vocal chords remain frozen in my throat. I watch him like he’s a tiger, waiting for him to strike.

But he doesn’t pounce. He sighs instead, his jaw tightly clenched. “I’ve never wanted to upset you, Catherine. I’m sorry for what I did that night—biting you and giving you my venom. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” I snap.

“I’ll be honest,” he continues. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t start the speed-dating nights to get your attention. But I had no intention of ruining your business. In a way, it’s a compliment.”

My jaw drops in disbelief. “A compliment? Are you completely unhinged? Do you really have your head shoved so far up your ass that you don’t get why I can’t stand you?”

He shakes his head, holding out his hands, palms up. There’s desperation in his voice I’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve never once tried to play the ancient card with you. I never will, no matter how badly you piss me off.”

I stare at him, half believing he doesn’t have a clue, half-angry this is just another of his manipulative games.

“This isn’t about details. It’s about the bigger picture. One you’ve never bothered to try and get your arrogant head around. Who am I, Ronin?” The happiness the evening brought is leaking out of me faster than air from a burst balloon. To my horror, a sob escapes my throat. “What am I?”

“Is this one of those bizarre feminist questions?”

“For fucks sake, what am I? Answer me.”

His eyes flash in anger, but he doesn’t flinch. “A woman. A vampire. A neurotic shrew half the time.”

“A vampire,” I repeat, ignoring the last bit.

He looks utterly and completely blank.

“You have no idea. Do you?”

When he doesn’t answer, I open the busted door as wide as it will go and wave an arm toward it. “Goodbye, Ronin.”

If he wasn’t such a misogynistic playboy, I might experience a pang of guilt as I watch him skulk past me, defeated.

Outside he pauses, spinning around to face me. “I rang you,” he says. “Every day for a month after we slept together.”

“I know,” I whisper, staring at my Dolce & Gabbana boots. “I changed my telephone number on day three.”

He emits a short, hollow laugh, and when I look up, the hallway is completely empty. I hear the slam of a door as he exits the building onto the street.

 

#2

For a few seconds, I’m lost for words. But as I stare between the bag on the floor and Ronin’s chiseled face, it all becomes clear.

“This is about you wanting me to owe you, isn’t it?” I hiss, fixing my gaze on his left ear. It’s a trick I learned from the last time we met. If I don’t look directly into his eyes, there’s less chance of being drawn into their swirling, blue depths.

He smiles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, do you know that?”

“Pfffft,” I erupt. “I’m unbelievable? I’m not the one trying to tank my business by spreading rumors and launching a dating service. I’m not the one going out of his way to ensure our paths keep crossing in the worst possible ways.”

He frowns, displaying the first sign of irritation since I crashed into the room. “I’ve already told you, mo chridhe, it wasn’t me who started those rumors. And as for the speed dating, well, it was a free country last time I checked. I’m offering you the cash because the fella was injured in my club. Which means technically he’s my responsibility. If you don’t take the money now, I’ll have someone deliver it to his lawyer’s office later. I have their address now, after all.”

He waves the letter in the air like a victory flag.

“I’ll call them up,” I blurt out, voice quavering. “I’ll tell them you’re a madman and not to accept it. I’ll say it’s not your money at all, that you conned the life savings from some poor old man with dementia.”

Ronin arches a brow, tucking the letter into an inside pocket of his jacket. “That’s some novel you’re writing there, Catherine, but I doubt they would argue if I write them a Coutts check, do you?”

I’m all out of ammunition. “I loathe you.”

For a split second, his cocksureness wavers, the steely-blue eyes darkening. But only for a moment. “The problem isn’t me, Catherine,” he says, edging closer. “The problem is you.”

I straighten up. “That’s the most irritating thing about you, Ronin—you always think you know better than everybody else. I’m not sure whether it’s because you’ve been around longer than the rest of us or because you’re just a massive asshole. Either way, you don’t know the first thing about me.”

He flashes a cocky grin, raking his gaze over me as if he has X-ray vision. “You don’t loathe me, mo chridhe. You just can’t get over the fact you’re an uptight puritan who loved the kind of sex I gave you that night we spent together.”

I let out a high-pitched laugh. “That’s right, Ronin. Let’s not forget for one second that the world revolves around you and your penis. Actually, I’m surprised you’re even bothering to get dressed these days. I would have thought you’d have developed a penchant for silky, red pajamas and slippers by now.” I motion to the cigar on the carpet. “Looks like you’ve nailed the smoking part, and God knows the Playboy bunnies must be hiding around here somewhere.”

He scoffs. “Jealous?”

“Please, you’re not that good in bed.”

Except he is—or was. Better than good. But I can’t think about that right now. Or ever again, actually.

“Paulo was right about you,” he murmurs. “You are a mad bitch.”

I close the distance between us in a single stride and smack him across the cheek. It’s like hitting stone. He doesn’t so much as flinch. For some bizarre reason, this ignites a hot stab of lust in the pit of my stomach. His scent—a masculine blend of whiskey, leather, and woodsmoke—infiltrates my senses. I’m transported back to that night some years ago when we went at it like two wildcats in his bed.

I never wanted to come up for air.

I’m standing too close to use the ear trick. His eyes drag me in, two penetrating blue flames, dark with anger. I gulp, allowing my gaze to wander over his chiseled-from-rock cheekbones, rosy Celtic skin, copper hair slicked back from a noble forehead. He may be an asshole, but there is no denying his beauty.

For what feels like an eternity, neither of us move. We remain locked onto each other, energy—good and bad—swirling between us like thick fog.

Quite without thinking, I hiss, “Fucker.” After spending my human life afraid to speak, I never managed to rewire the connection between my brain and mouth.

His blue eyes flash. At once, his lips are on mine and his arms are around my waist. Instead of struggling, I mold myself into the hard contours of his body, my tongue sliding over his, my hands pulling him closer, and I hate myself—Lord, how I despise myself—for how good it feels. It’s as though he brings a magnifying glass up to all the base urges I long to forget, including this—an utterly ridiculous sexual attraction to a demon playboy who’s murdered God knows how many during his thousands of years on earth.

I don’t pull away. I can’t. He absorbs me like a drug. Before I can help myself, my fingers are tangled in his thick, red hair and I’m allowing his hands to cup my ass, grinding against the hard rope of an erection bulging beneath his trousers. We devour each other, eyes and mouths open, until I’m no longer sure where he begins and I end.

But then he takes his mouth from mine, trailing kisses from jawline to neck. Along with the rasp of stubble, I feel a scrape of fangs, sharp as knives, glide across my skin. I shove him away, panting slightly, averting my eyes to the lacquered walnut desk in the center of the room. If I don’t stop this now, I’ll end up sprawled across that table just like all the other women he’s had in here. The worst part is, I’d enjoy it.

“Consider the debt paid,” I say.



Other books in the series

 


Silver Harris is over clingy men-maybe men altogether. But when she shares a toe-curling kiss with a sexy Irish vampire on New Year’s Eve, she wonders if maybe it’s human men she’s done with. Silver turns to a popular vampire dating site, but soon she’s in over her head and her mysterious hottie is nowhere to be found…

Logan Byrne can’t get that sassy redhead out of his mind-or that kiss! When his boss assigns him to spy on the dating site’s members, he meets Silver again. As the snark and sparks fly, feelings between Silver and Logan grow deep and suddenly Logan isn’t so sure he can betray her, no matter how dangerous the consequences might be…

AMAZON.COM
AMAZON UK

Swipe right for Mr. Bite…

Mila Hart’s first experience with the hot new vampire dating site is a complete disaster. Turns out, her date is wanted for murder!
But things turn around when she’s rescued by dashing vampire cop Vincent Ferrer.
Dangerous and drop dead gorgeous, he’s just the vampire hottie Mila was hoping for.

Haunted by his past, Vincent can’t risk falling in love again, even if Mila charms him more than anyone he’s ever met.
But when the killer from Mila’s first date seeks her out, Vincent is the only one who can protect her.
Protecting his heart is a different story…

AMAZON.COM
AMAZON UK



Giveaway

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About the Author

JULIET LYONS is a paranormal romance author from the UK. She holds a degree in Spanish and Latin American studies and works part-time in a local primary school where she spends far too much time discussing Harry Potter.
Since joining global storytelling site Wattpad in 2014, her work has received millions of hits online and gained a legion of fans from all over the world. When she is not writing, Juliet enjoys reading and spending time with her family.

 

Find Juliet Online:

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