Category Archives: Free

RELEASE BOOST ~ 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

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
Free in Kindle Unlimited 




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 minidress 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.

Also Available
FREE for a limited time!
Always free in Kindle Unlimited
99c for a limited time!
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



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

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
Free in Kindle Unlimited



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.




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!
Always free in Kindle Unlimited
99c for a limited time!
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



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


Beyond Rebrand Blog Reveal

Beyond Ecstasy
by Kit Rocha




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.


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.




B & N





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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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)


 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.


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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Devastate by Pam Godwin

It’s LIVE!

Devastate, Book #4 in the Deliver Series

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“What is the price you’re willing to pay?”
“Money isn’t an issue.”
“I’m not talking about money.”

Tate is on the hunt to find his best friend’s sister.
Eleven years ago, Lucia Dias was abducted. Presumed dead. He never met her, so why does he care?
Some might call his efforts noble, but his motivation is more perverse, bordering on obsession.

When he follows a chilling lead to Venezuela’s Kidnap Alley, what he finds is neither a corpse nor a captive.

Amid poisonous lies and crippling depravity, the price of love is devastation.
And he pays.
With his body, his blood, and her life.

Deliver, Book #1



His name was Joshua Carter. Now it’s whatever she wants it to be.

She is a Deliverer.

She lures young men and delivers them to be sold. She delivers the strikes that enforce their obedience. She delivers the sexual training that determines their purchase price.

As long as she delivers, the arrangement that protects her family will hold.

Delivering is all she knows.

The one thing she can’t deliver is a captive from slavery.

Until him.

And her stubborn slave thinks he can deliver her…from herself.

Vanquish, Book #2


Her life is like a prison cell.
A self-made, to-hell-with-the-free-world existence that locks from the inside.
Stop judging. Her agoraphobia doesn’t define her. It simply keeps her safe.

He belongs in a prison cell.

The 6×8, make-me-your-bitch variety that locks from the outside.
But he’s free. To hunt. To take. To break.
And he just found a sexy new toy.

Capturing her is the easy part. Her fucked-up mind, however, makes him question everything he does next.

But he’s a determined bastard. If all goes his way, this will hurt like hell.

Disclaim, Book #3


Camila was seventeen when Van Quiso kidnapped her. Ten years after her escape, the shackles refuse to release her. Not while there are still slave traders preying on her city.
She will stop at nothing to end them.
Even if that means becoming a slave again.

Returning to chains is her worst fear—and only option. They won’t know who she is or what she intends to do. She’s prepared for every complication.
Except him.
The one who decimated her sixteen-year-old heart.

Matias is charming, gorgeous, and dangerously seductive. He’s also untrustworthy and enshrouded in secrets. After years of no contact, he finds her—on her knees, wrists bound, in the clutches of her enemy.
Will he sabotage her mission by needlessly saving her?
Or will he keep her in chains and never let her go?

Pam Godwin

Pam Godwin Books GrayScale

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.

Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.

Books by Pam Godwin

Tangled Lies Series

Deliver Series

Trilogy of Eve


BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY ~ Unchained by a Forbidden Love (Eternal Mates #15) by Felicity Heaton


Book Tour and Giveaway!

Unchained by a Forbidden Love
(Eternal Mates Paranormal Romance Series Book 15)
by Felicity Heaton



Unchained by a Forbidden Love
(Eternal Mates Romance Series Book 15)

Felicity Heaton

Lost to the darkness, Fuery wages a daily war against the corruption that lives within him, constantly in danger of slipping into the black abyss and becoming the monster all elves fear. Work as an assassin gives him purpose, but what reason is there to go on when he killed the light of his life—his fated mate?

Shaia has spent forty-two centuries mourning her mate. Tired and worn down, she agrees to wed a male of her family’s choosing, following tradition that has always bound her as a female and hoping she will be able to gain just a little freedom in return. But as she resigns herself to being the mate of a male she could never love, fate places an old friend in her path—one who tells her that her lost love is alive.

Will Shaia find the courage to break with tradition and leave the elf kingdom in search of her mate? And as a ray of light pierces his soul again, can Fuery find the strength to win his battle against the darkness or will it devour him and that light of their forbidden love forever? | | |
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Enter the grand tour-wide giveaway to win an Amazon Kindle Fire HD plus books 1-7 of the
Eternal Mates series in e-book or audiobook at the Unchained by a Forbidden Love book page.

This giveaway is international and open to everyone, and ends at midnight on January 28th.

Enter now: 

It was never a good day when he woke with the taste of blood on his tongue and no recollection of how it had got there.


Fuery stared up into the darkness, cold sweat trickling over his exposed chest and sticking the thin black bedclothes to his legs. He breathed hard, each heavy desperate exhalation shattering the silence, rasping in his ears together with his thundering heartbeat.

Icy claws gripped him, sinking into the blackened remains of his heart, attempting to pierce deep enough to reach whatever fragment of light remained in him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, dragged down a shuddering breath and held it, unwilling to let fear pull him into the darkness. He would not let it win. He couldn’t. He exhaled slowly, a measured pace that created a sliver of calm, enough to give him the strength to shake the grip of his fear and allow him to extinguish that emotion.

Because fear was a weakness.

He did not feel such things.

He hadn’t in a long time.

Not since he had hardened himself to the world.

Not since that night.

Fuery screwed his eyes shut even tighter, his lips drawing into a grimace that flashed his emerging fangs as the darkness welled again, pulling up memories from the abyss. They surged and fought for freedom, and he growled as he pushed back against them, battled and resisted them. The fight took longer this time, strained minutes in which the fear slithered back in and wrapped around him again, squeezing his lungs tight and hissing whispered taunts in his ear, words about the terrible sins he had committed that had the memories surging harder, almost breaking to the surface.

He gripped the sides of his head and squeezed hard as he snarled through his clenched fangs. Tears cut down his temples, hot against his chilled skin. He didn’t want to remember, but he could never forget either.

He didn’t want to go back into the darkness, refused to sink into oblivion again and do the vile bidding of the darkness that lived inside him. Not again.

He grappled with fear, wrestled with the darkness, and fought the tide of memories, and somehow, the gods only knew how, he managed to subdue them and vanquish the raw agony and the sheer terror that threatened to push him back over the edge.

He panted hard, body trembling from the exertion of overcoming the darkness and clawing his way back to the light.

Couldn’t think about that night.

Never look back.

The past was pain.

A constant source of it that scoured his blackened soul.

No looking back.

He inhaled and exhaled, keeping them measured and deep, struggling for calm again as his past and his present churned inside him, rocking him and trying to keep him off balance, on the brink of teetering back into the abyss.

No looking back.

Fuery chanted it in his mind as he sought the calm—the quiet.

It was slow to come while the darkness roared inside him, drawn out by the fear that had paralyzed him, weakened him and opened him to it. Its inky tendrils snaked around his heart and squeezed it in his hollow chest.

Attempted to claim his soul.

Calm seemed an impossible dream while blood coated his tongue.

But gods, he wanted it, reached for it, desperate to shirk the grip of the fear and the darkness again.

They combined to overpower him and he could feel himself slipping again, skidding down that terrifying slope towards the cold forbidding darkness where it reached for him, beckoned him with promises of oblivion and an escape from the madness.

From the pain.

No looking back.

The past was a nightmare.

The past was pain.

Always pain.

He opened his eyes and stared up into the darkness as he forced himself to see where he was in a vain attempt to focus on the present. He was here, in the guild, in the free realm of Hell. He was far away from there. Leagues from the elf kingdom. Centuries away from his past.

Light streaked across the darkness and his eyes swiftly adjusted to the onslaught. A shadow made the slim vertical shaft flicker and then brightness exploded in the room, driving back the darkness entirely.

Just as the male on the threshold of his room drove it from his soul.

Hartt looked at him through sleep-filled eyes and murmured huskily in the elf tongue, “I felt you stir. Everything alright?”

Fuery went to nod, because any other response would leave him weak. Vulnerable. He stopped himself, paused and stared at Hartt where he stood dressed in only a loose pair of black cotton trousers and scrubbing a hand over his short sleep-mussed black-blue hair, yawning the whole time.

He didn’t need to protect himself like that with this male.

Hartt knew the truth of him. Knew his secrets. His story.

Fuery slowly shook his head.

Hartt yawned again, smacked his lips together and rubbed sleep from his violet eyes as he stepped into the room. He quietly closed the door, descending the room back into darkness that lasted only a second. A soft glow burned in the glass lamp on the low round wooden table near the window to Fuery’s left and gradually gained strength, driving back the shadows again and drawing some of the darkness out of the black plastered walls, softening the bleak colour.

Hartt’s doing, because Fuery’s own powers were unpredictable.

Unreliable since that night.

The male padded silently barefoot across the stone floor towards him and sat on the edge of the bed on his left, causing Fuery to roll towards him. The warm light chased over Hartt, throwing the left half of his face into shadow.

Hartt’s violet eyes softened as they met his. “Tell me about it.”

Fuery sank back into the double mattress on a sigh and averted his gaze, pinning it back on the wooden ceiling. Gods, he didn’t want to speak about it. Everything in him screamed to protect himself by making the male go away, but that light Hartt always seemed to draw out of him emulated the lamp, fought to grow brighter and drive the darkness back.

He had to speak about it. Years of experience had taught him that. Holding it inside would only give the darkness a firmer hold on him, making it harder to shake it and increasing the risk of him sinking into that terrible oblivion again.

He didn’t want to go there.

So he forced himself to speak.

“I woke…” His hands tensed against his bare stomach, fingers curling into fists, and he pushed onwards. “I woke with the taste of blood in my mouth.”

He could still taste it now.

He dropped his gaze to his body. No trace of crimson on his torso. He uncurled his hands and lifted them, stared at his fingers and his callused palms, scouring them for a sign, some evidence that he had lost himself to the darkness and had killed.

There wasn’t a single fleck of blood on him.

But it was there in his mouth.

Coppery. Vile.

“I think I did something terrible,” he whispered and shook his head, numbness sweeping through him and bringing fear in its wake, a stronger wave this time, one that threatened to pull him under. Break him. “I don’t remember. I can’t recall how I got to my bed.”

He shifted his gaze to land on Hartt.

The pity shining in Hartt’s violet eyes drove shame through his heart like a spear and he quickly looked away.

“I put you here,” Hartt said softly, his deep voice a bare whisper but one that soothed Fuery, easing his fear and the grip the darkness had on him. “You had an… episode… and I brought you home.”

Relief bloomed inside him, sweet and warm, but the darkness still refused to release him and worry continued to slither inside him like a living thing, hissing in his ear that Hartt was lying, that he had killed and the male was covering it up.

Hartt seemed to see it, because he sighed and jerked his chin towards him. “Open your mouth.”

Fuery didn’t hesitate to do as he was ordered. The male leaned over, peered into his mouth and lifted his top lip with his left hand. When he prodded Fuery’s tongue on the left side, sharp pain lanced the length of it and he flinched, almost biting Hartt’s finger. The male was too fast for him though, reacted in a heartbeat and had his finger clear before Fuery’s fangs could pierce his flesh.

“You must have bitten your tongue when you were thrashing around. That’s all.” Hartt eased back.

Gods, the relief that hit Fuery this time was like ambrosia. It poured through him, washing away his worry and easing the chill from his blood.

Hartt’s lips tugged into a smile and he slowly shook his head. “For a male who makes a living taking lives, you are oddly affected by the idea of killing.”

Fuery knew it was a paradox, that Hartt was right and he had no qualms about his life as an assassin.

But there was a vast difference between killing when he was in control and murder when he was lost to the darkness.

He had felt that way for many centuries.

He had felt it since that night.

Now he couldn’t bear the idea he might kill someone innocent during one of his blackouts.

He looked to Hartt and saw in his eyes that he wouldn’t tell him if he did. Hartt was noble in his desire to protect him from the pain of the things he did when the darkness was in control, but Fuery didn’t want his friend to lie to him, to cover the truth and spare him like that.

He needed to know the things that he did. He had to know them. He could never atone, but he could bear his sins.

Because all that he had done, and all that he might do, paled in comparison to the sin he had committed.

That night. | | |
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There’s a very good chance I’ve said this before about other instalments in this series… BUT Unchained by a Forbidden Love is up there as a real favourite of the Eternal Mates books to date.

I felt that this book was slightly different than previous in the series – while before we had dealt with issues our main couple had we also had the Archangel storyline featuring quite heavily and a lot of action and suspense around that arc. In Fuery and Shaia book things were a lot more personal and to an extent there was a bit less focus on what was going on around them – though our hero was still carrying out his role as an assassin and we caught up with a few of our favourite characters from earlier in the series – I loved the fact that we followed Shaia and Fuery’s history, heartache and battle to get back to where they once were. 

We knew from before that Fuery was pretty lost to the darkness and not far from becoming totally gone but we had no idea what had caused him to fall so far and when we did discover the cause I could completely understand and my heart broke for them both! 

We jump back and forth through four centuries and the true depth of feeling and love between our couple was palpable. Even though they had been separated for so long, their connection, chemistry and devotion was as deep as it had been when they first knew each other. I loved Shaia’s strength and belief in Fuery, she wouldn’t give up on him even when she was encouraged to.

As you would expect from a Felicity Heaton read the story was action packed, had some twists and turns, battles of the heart and a shed load of heat and attraction.

You’d possibly think that by the 15th book in a series things would maybe be getting a little slow or repetitive but I can honestly say that this series just keeps getting better and I’m looking forward to finding out what’s next for the Eternal Mates

5 hugely deserved stars!!!

Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince (FREE AT SELECTED RETAILERS!)
Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King
Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince
Book 4: Hunted by a Jaguar
Book 5: Craved by an Alpha
Book 6: Bitten by a Hellcat
Book 7: Taken by a Dragon
Book 8: Marked by an Assassin
Book 9: Possessed by a Dark Warrior
Book 10: Awakened by a Demoness
Book 11: Haunted by the King of Death
Book 12: Turned by a Tiger
Book 13: Tamed by a Tiger
Book 14: Treasured by a Tiger
Book 15: Unchained by a Forbidden Love

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

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Eternal Mates series.

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



FREE ~ Deep Down (The OGs Book #1) by Elle Aycart


FREE January 9th – 11th via Amazon


Mike Haddican is a proud small-town gym owner, a renowned karate instructor, and all-around good guy. He’s never needed much to be happy: his family, his friends, his girl. Especially his girl. But when Kyra left him seven years ago to chase her dreams, she all but destroyed him.

Contemporary dancer Kyra Brims made it big, but it cost her dearly. With her life and career in shambles, she doesn’t need a do-over, she needs a friggin’ miracle. Injured, broke, and out of options after going through hell, she’s come back to Alden, the town she swore she’d never return to and home of Mike Haddican, the man who ripped her soul to pieces, to lick her wounds and recover.

Forgetting and letting go proved impossible when they were worlds apart; now that they’re stuck together they don’t stand a chance, especially with Mike’s grandma and her partners in crime plotting, meddling and refusing to give up on them.

As the passion that never died burns out of control, so do old hurts and unresolved issues. Both have reasons to be angry and feel betrayed, but now that they’re older, are they wise enough to make things work?



“This is a bad idea, Grandma,” Mike said as he walked out of the dressing room at the community center, wearing nothing but his boxers and an intimidating scowl that, unfortunately and as usual, had no effect whatsoever on the old lady.

“Nonsense. The girls are anxiously waiting. Let’s roll,” she said as she pushed him forward and down the corridor.

Scratch bad. This was a shitty idea.

His grandmother was barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds when drenched. How she got the strength to push his big frame while he was literally dragging his feet was beyond him.

“Besides, you promised you’d do it.”

He snorted. “No, I didn’t. I promised I’d help you with your senior courses. Meaning I’d drive you around, do your shopping, and stuff like that. I didn’t agree to pose for your male-anatomy painting lessons. You know I’m too busy for this.” He’d stopped working as a foreman several years ago to run the family gym full-time with his dad, but last month Cole had taken on the renovation of the town’s library pro bono, and Mike had volunteered to help. That plus the gym and the martial-arts classes in the afternoons had taken up all his time. Fuck it if now that the library was almost ready he was going to invest whatever was left of the summer in this. “Can’t you guys use, I don’t know, a statue? Or better yet, a picture. There are plenty of books and—”

“Live human-anatomy painting, Mike,” she interrupted, emphasizing the word “live,” “and one is never too busy to help his grandmother.”

Well, it depended on how nutty the grandmother was, didn’t it?

“What about Mr. Honbacker or Mr. Stilt from bingo nights?” he asked, trying to get out if it. “I’m sure they are free and willing.”

His grandmother clicked her tongue. “The idea behind these classes is for us senior citizens to enjoy ourselves. We do know we have a foot in the grave. We have enough of a reality check every time we look in the mirror, honey. Besides, Mr. Stilt’s prostate is acting up again. He can’t stay still fifteen minutes to save his own life. And about Mr. Honbacker,” she added, lowering her voice, “Greta had a…fling with him. They are not on speaking terms. Some kinky thing he did with his false teeth, I hear.”

Oh man. There was an image he wouldn’t be able to erase from his mind even if he lived to be one hundred.

That was what he got for being nice—permanent brain damage.

“You’re a flawless specimen in the prime of your life,” she continued, reaching for his arm and squeezing his biceps appreciatively. “Handsome and fit. A perfect Michelangelo’s David.”

He turned his head to her. “You’re kidding me, right? Come on, do I look anything like Michelangelo’s David?”

She pondered his words as her gaze traveled over his bulk and tattoos, then settled on his face. “Well, your hair isn’t curly.”

He rolled his eyes. Trust her to focus on the most insignificant things.

For one, his hair was cropped so short it was barely there. And two, he was heavily tattooed, weighed around two hundred forty pounds, and a lifetime of practicing boxing and martial arts had granted him a body that had little to do with that of an effeminate boy.

“You’re a bit rougher than Michelangelo’s David,” she finally conceded, “but you’ll do nicely, I’m sure of it. The girls will be pleased.”

For the love of God.

“I’m your grandson, and you’re pimping me out. Don’t you see anything wrong with this picture?”

“Just humor us. We’re a bunch of women in our eighties. Half of us are blind; the other half won’t remember what we did today tomorrow. And you only have to pose. The girls voted for body oil to highlight your muscles, but they couldn’t agree who should help you rub it on, so I vetoed.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered as he dug his heels in.

Fucking hell.

That was what he got for going along with her wacky ideas. For not putting his foot down. Like when she decided her girls needed self-defense classes. They needed an extra edge, she’d said. Extra edge for what? What were those grandmas going to be doing? Strolling around Southie sporting colors? Considering their age, the best bet if anyone tried to rob them would be to hand over the purse. Better that than risk any injury. His grandmother hadn’t agreed, of course, and now, every Tuesday, there was a self-defense class for seniors down at the gym, where Mike was supposed to teach those charming ladies how to knock down a potential assailant without breaking any bones of their own.

“Come on, Mike, you know we’re harmless.”

Yeah, harmless his ass. He’d rather face a bloodthirsty firing squad or, better yet, the Hulk in a no-holds-barred underground fight than deal with all the guilt-tripping of the OGs—the Original Grandmas—what his grandmother and her partners in crime, Greta and Wilma, had fittingly named the messenger group they shared.

“Besides, you’ve been fooling around with too many women to count. I bet half the continental US has seen you naked. What does it matter if a bunch of grannies see you in your undies? Oh, look, I got a rhyme. Sort of. I need to remember it. For my creative-writing course. I’m compiling my memoirs.”

“Your memoirs? Why do you need creative writing for memoirs?”

She let out a soft snort. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

Next time Mr. Bowen came for a visit, Mike was so bribing him into taking her to Eternal Sun Resort in Florida. From what he’d heard, the senior community was more than adequately equipped to keep his grandmother entertained and the rest of the world out of trouble.

In the meantime, he needed to do some damage control.


Probably sensing he was about to hightail it out of there, she pulled out the big guns. “You promised, Mike. You can’t break your promises to me. For all you know, I could drop dead tomorrow, and you’d have to carry the guilt of breaking my heart for the rest of your life.”

God grant him patience.

“Oh please, you’ve been using the same I-could-drop-dead-tomorrow line to get away with whatever you wanted for the last twenty years.”

She shrugged. “I’ve just been lucky, but clearly I’m running out of time. The probability of me kicking the bucket becomes higher and higher with every passing day. You shouldn’t risk it.”

Right. She was in great shape, not only for her age but for someone ten years younger.

“A shameless blackmailer, that’s what you are,” he muttered as they approached the room, following the sound of animated chatter. “No oil. No rubbing. Heck, no touching at all. And the boxers are staying on, are we clear?” He wasn’t sure if Michelangelo’s David was a complete nude or if he had something covering his junk, but Mike had his suspicions, and no way in hell was he risking it.

She patted him condescendingly. “Of course, dear. It’s not our intention to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

Really? Thank fucking God, because he’d been nothing but damn uncomfortable since he’d set foot in the community center.

“For the record, Mike, none of us has had sex during this century, granted, but equipment-wise, I doubt you have something we haven’t seen before.”

He choked on the breath he was taking. He wouldn’t bet on that.

The second he entered the room, a perfectly heart-shaped ass clad in barely there boy shorts that left the undersides of the ass cheeks in plain view welcomed him. Well, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The girl was bent over, so he couldn’t see her face, but what he could see was very promising.

“I thought you needed a model for the male-anatomy painting class,” he whispered as he lifted his chin, greeting his grandmother’s blue-haired posse.

“No, I needed a male model for the anatomy painting class.”

She should have started with that. As an incentive if nothing else. He was still pissed he’d be spending every Wednesday posing in his damn underwear—hopefully—but at least he wouldn’t be alone in his misery and could entertain himself with eye candy.

He caught his grandmother’s gaze drifting away to the floor, a flash of unease on her face, and his joy took a nosedive.

Oh boy, why did he have a shitty feeling about this? Before he could ask anything, the owner of that glorious ass straightened, turned around, and his fucking heart jumped to his throat and stopped.

He froze.

There, standing in those sexy-like-hell shorts and a sports bra, showing off her toned, curvy, and mouthwatering body, looking surprised as all fuck—and displeased as all fuck too—was Kyra.

His Kyra.

No, not his Kyra anymore, he corrected himself.

He instinctively took a step back, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

She’d been back in Alden for a bit over a month now, and this was the closest he’d been to her.

Much closer than he wanted to be ever again.

“A word?” he growled to his grandmother while moving back to the hallway, dragging her along.

Hoping he was out of earshot, he stopped and turned to her, his jaw clenched so tight he had trouble getting any words out. “Are you crazy?”

She thought for a second. “Is that a trick question? Because I warn you my admission won’t have any legal validity, in case you’re having funny thoughts.”

He ignored her. “Kyra? Really?” He hated the raw bitterness dripping from his voice, but there was nothing he could do about it.

She lifted her shoulders. “I had nothing to do with that. I was in charge of bringing a male model. Greta is the one who got Kyra.”

Sure she had nothing to do with Kyra being in there. His grandma, Wilma, and Greta made the Three Musketeers look like total strangers.

“Not doing it. No fucking way.”

“What’s the problem? You told me you were over her.”

Sure he was over her.

Over and fucking done, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend any time around her. For one, because even now, seeing her or hearing her voice still sent a surge of pain through his chest, which, considering how fucking badly she’d crushed him all those years ago, pissed him off to no end. That, of course, he wasn’t going to explain to his grandmother.

Not that she needed any explanations to read him.

“I thought we could be mature about this,” he heard her say.

Fuck mature. He was running for the hills.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d promised Cole he would help with the library’s renovation, he would have gotten the fuck out of Alden the very first day she came back. Then again, his father couldn’t manage the gym by himself, so he was stuck.

Since her return, out of pure self-preservation, he’d become a master at avoiding her, which in a place the size of Alden was a damn feat. Posing with her for a couple of hours in a confined space, without immediate means of escape, would blow to hell and back the frail status quo he’d managed to achieve. Not to mention he would lose whatever little was left of his frigging peace of mind. He’d have nothing to do but stare at her. At those gorgeous gray eyes of hers that he, once upon a time, used to wake up to. At that bee-stung, luscious mouth he used to spend hours kissing. At that sexy hourglass body he used to love fucking.

He shook his head. “Grandma, I—”

She sighed. “I understand. If you can’t take it, you can’t take it. I’ll walk right back in and say you can’t do it. You shouldn’t feel like any less of a man for it. It’s okay your feelings are still tender, my boy,” she said, patting his chest. “Nobody will think less of you.”

He groaned in exasperation. Fantastic. Now he’d look like a fucking pussy if he backed down.

Whatever. Worse things to look like in life than a pussy, even for a born fighter like him. Not sure what exactly, but he was sure there were some.

He turned around and began walking away.

“Michael Haddican, if you leave, we have to cancel the class. The whole course, probably. If we cancel, she won’t get paid. She needs the cash. She’s in trouble, my boy. In two days—”

“Don’t want to hear it,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone harsh.

He didn’t want to hear a damn fucking word. Not a one. The sight of her and Sam was painful enough. He didn’t need a sound track to go with it, thank you very much.

He got a handful of steps more before he stopped and let out a low, pissed-off growl.

“Mike, please,” he heard his grandma say.

He slung his head forward.

Fuck. Shit. Crap.

He hated being played, but for the life of him he couldn’t walk away knowing he would be directly responsible for making Kyra’s situation more difficult than it already was. And why that mattered to him after all that had gone down, he couldn’t fathom. Well, he could; he was a moron in dire need of a lobotomy. Pronto.

After a long pause, his back still to his grandmother, he muttered, “I thought you said this was volunteer work.”

“For you it is. I’ve donated your pay to the church.”

He shook his head. He was so going to regret this.

God protect the unsuspecting soul who would spar with him in the gym later on. He was going to have so much pent-up aggression he would annihilate the poor bastard.

He turned around. “Just this once,” he said as sternly as he could muster. “You better find a substitute for next time. I don’t care if you have to make do with Mr. Honbacker and his kinky teeth or Mr. Stilt and his prostate. You either get someone else next time, or your classes will be canceled. You hear me?”

She beamed. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”

He drew in a deep breath and walked back inside.

He could do mature.


The second his gaze landed on Kyra, he felt his cock stir. Jesus fucking Christ. Didn’t the little fucker have a smidgen of dignity?

Apparently not.

He should not only be lobotomized, he should be castrated too, for good measure.

Her voluptuous mane of black hair was twisted back in a knot, two hair sticks haphazardly holding it up. Thanks to her mixed Hispanic ancestry, she had sun-kissed skin, raven hair, and almond-shaped eyes. That they weren’t black but smoky gray made her even more exotic.

They stared at each other for a long second.

Man, to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

How the fuck was he going to pull this off?

“Mike,” Kyra greeted him, her voice clipped.

She wasn’t happier than he was at this moment. She stood stiff, eyeing the door as if she might bolt at any second. But he knew she wouldn’t. Like him, she’d always had a soft spot for his grandmother. Never mind how badly Kyra might need the money, she would be running out the door if this gig didn’t involve the OGs. Or maybe not. Who the fuck knew her now? Certainly not him. He wondered if he ever did.

Shaking those thoughts away, he nodded in her general direction. His cock followed suit.

Christ. He had to get the fuck out of here.

He threw a dirty glance to his grandmother, who now was shamelessly smiling. Wilma and Greta, her sisters in mischief, were smiling too.

“Let’s get cracking,” the evil woman said, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him forward. “Come stand here in front of Kyra.”

He lifted his gaze up, chanced another look at Kyra, and his dick twitched again. Oh hell. These boxers were no barrier. At all. They were going to start tenting in three…two…one.

And cue public humiliation.

Well, if his cock burst straight through his pants and gave her friends a collective heart attack, his grandmother would have no one to blame but herself. Then again, sending half the senior population in Alden to the ER would be a hell of a way to end his Wednesday. He would never live that one down.

He took in a slow breath, and reaching deep inside into the place where he kept it all locked away, he released every ounce of pain that came hand in hand with Kyra, allowing the memories to flood into his mind. And with that, he felt his dick retreating.


Now he could do this.

After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff. While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances. She lives currently in Barcelona, Spain, with her husband and two daughters, although who knows, in no time she could be living at the Arctic Circle in Finland, breeding reindeer.Elle loves to hear from readers!

SALE BLITZ ~ Falling For Her Brother’s Best Friend by Noelle Adams


Fifteen years ago, three girls were thrown together because their brothers were best friends.
Now they’re all grown up, and their brothers are grown up too.
The Tea for Two series tells their stories.

Fans of contemporary women’s fiction will become engrossed in this new series by
New York Times Bestselling Author, Noelle Adams.

Falling For Her Brother’s Best Friend Sale Blitz Giveaway:

Noelle is offering one (1) lucky Grand Prize winner a $20 Amazon Gift Card
and one winner an eCopy of one Noelle’s backlist titles.

To enter, simply fill out the Rafflecopter below:

Giveaway Link:


Title: Falling For Her Brother’s Best Friend
Series: Tea For Two
Author: Noelle Adams

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 7, 2017
Publisher: Noelle Adams

After too many bad decisions in romance, Emma is going on a man-fast. For the next six months, she’s fasting from men. No sex. No dating. No soulful gazes. No fond memories of her first crush. She’s going to spend the time focusing on her career, getting in touch with herself, and helping her two best friends with the launch of their new tea room. No men.

And that includes her brother’s best friend, Noah Hart, who has just returned to their hometown.

She doesn’t want Noah anyway. He might be even hotter than he was before, but he’s not a nice guy anymore. He’s made a fortune by acting ruthless in business, and the last thing he’s looking for is small-town domestic life. He doesn’t even want to be in town again, but a sick grandmother guilted him into it. Then he has nerve to not even recognize Emma when he sees her again. Maybe it’s been seven years, but a decent guy would remember his best friend’s little sister.

Noah is not a decent guy. Anyway, Emma is on a man-fast. And she doesn’t want Noah.

At all.

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Noah felt an emotional pull toward her, that she seemed to understand him so well, even when he wasn’t sure he understood himself.
But he shouldn’t—he really shouldn’t—be feeling that way.
He cleared his throat. “And I noticed your Man-Fast flew out the window.”
She gasped and straightened her spine, which unfortunately called attention to the curve of her breasts. “What are you talking about?”
Struggling not to gaze too fixedly on the slight outline of nipple he could see beneath the white fabric of her dress, he managed to say, “Your Man-Fast. With all the flirting you were doing, I figured you’d given up on it.”
“I was not flirting!”
He lifted his eyebrows.
“Don’t you give me that snide look,” she said, her lush lips turning down in a frown. “I was talking to some people I know, same as you.”
“There was definitely more than talking going on over here.” He had no idea why he was pursuing this. It was stupid. Futile. It would just make things worse.
But he’d been bristling for too long about all the guys falling over themselves around her, and it was going to come out one way or the other.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “I didn’t do anything but talk.”
“Right. You didn’t smile at them and show them all that skin and make them think they might be getting lucky later on.”
She gasped again. “I did nothing of the kind.”
“I didn’t! I was talking. A girl can talk to guys without being accused of leading them on. I could say the same thing about you—every time you talk to and smile at women.”
“I haven’t been talking to women tonight.”
“You talked to a few.”
He tried to remember back to the people he’d chatted with and only remembered two young women. “They were married. I knew them from high school.”
“So? What’s your point? You can flirt with married women, you know.”
“Are you saying you think I’m the kind of guy who would do that?” His voice was now as angry as hers was.
She opened her mouth with some sort of sharp reply, but she must have rethought it. She slumped slightly. “No. I know you’re not.”
“It would be nice if you’d know I wasn’t like that either.”
“I’d never think you’d come on to married men.”
“You just think I’m some kind of tease, torturing men for fun.”
Noah sighed and leaned against the counter. “No. I really don’t.”
“Then why were you acting like that then?”
Good question.
And a question he couldn’t possibly answer honestly.
“I was just being an ass.”
“Yes. You were.”
Her frown was relaxing slightly, and she was peering at him closely. “Okay then.”
“Yes. Okay.”
He felt a little better, now that she wasn’t so mad at him. But it just made him want to touch her even more.
He really needed to get out of here.
“I already have an older brother,” she said, still scrutinizing his face. “I don’t need another one.”
Damn it.
She thought he was acting like an older brother.
She had no idea he felt like a jealous boyfriend, resenting the fact that any other guy was thinking about what was his.
Could things be any more of a mess for him?

Copyright © 2017 Falling For Her Brother’s Best Friend by Noelle Adams

Other Books in the Tea For Two series:

Winner Her Brother’s Best Friend

Ginny Hart loves men. And she loves dating. She just doesn’t want a serious relationship. She’s tried it before–with her brother’s best friend, Ryan–and it’s clear she’s not cut out for it. So she’ll keep having fun and focusing on the new tea shop she recently opened with her best friend.

That’s all she needs in her life.

She definitely doesn’t need Ryan, who is always hanging around and has turned into a real player. When he challenges her to prove which of them is more popular with the opposite sex, she takes him up on the bet. One month. Four Saturday nights. She’ll show him she’s not still holding on to old feelings. It doesn’t matter if she can’t seem to keep her hands off him.

She’s not about to let him win.

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Available at:  Amazon  |  Barnes and Noble  |  Kobo  |  iTunes

Seducing Her Brother’s Best Friend

After too many years being overlooked by men, Carol is ready to take action. She wants a man, and she knows which man she wants. Her brother’s best friend, Patrick Stevenson.

Patrick is funny and brainy and the sexiest man she’s ever known, but he has never looked at her as anything except his friend’s little sister. That’s going to change.

Carol isn’t good at flirting. Or seduction. Or anything that requires putting herself out there. But she’s going to make sure Patrick sees her as a desirable woman—and one he wants for more than one night—even if it turns her whole world upside down. He already likes her a lot. He just needs to open his eyes to how good they’d be together.

After all, how stubborn can he be?

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Pre-Order at:  Amazon  |  Barnes and Noble  |  Kobo  |  iTunes

About Noelle Adams:

Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she reads any book she can get her hands on and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.

Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon  |  BookBub


RELEASE BLITZ ~ A Cold Fateful Night by Katerina Winters

A Cold Fateful Night
by Katerina Winters

Publication Date: June 5, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Download your FREE copy:

During a city-wide blackout and severe snowstorm, two strangers have no choice but to stick close together.

Optimistic and naive Lasette Crane was trapped, scared, and alone with a man she knew nothing about. But one thing was certain, she needed him to make it through the night alive. Guided by his strength and grim tenacity she followed the silent man into the cold darkness.

With a magnet for trouble by his side, Dorian Fields’ primary concern was to get them to warmth and safety because with every step they took on the cold dark streets they realized it wasn’t just the steadily dropping temperature they had to fear on this cold, fateful night.

About Katerina Winters

Dear reader,

I aim to create a fantasy that gently leads you to the edge of your desires and roughly drive you over the edge, all the while ignoring your protest.

In my pursuit to master the “chase,” I promise to create possessive, protective, powerful predatory men.

So sit back relax and enter my sweet erotic dark escape.

Katerina Winters

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RELEASE BOOST ~ Two-Man Advantage by Toni Aleo


Two-Man Advantage by Toni Aleo

“Sexy. Emotional. Funny. Aleo’s first MM is a spectacular debut into a new genre for her.”
-NYT Bestselling Author, Melissa Collins


Amazon Universal →

ADD to your TBR →
FOLLOW Toni on Bookbub →

Wells Lemiere knew the moment he saw Matty Haverbrooke, he had to have him. Matty was quiet, he was talented, he was beautiful, and Wells couldn’t stay away.

As the youngest and most talented son of the NHL Commissioner, Matty had found the burden of family expectations almost too heavy to carry on even his broad shoulders. He had no intention of getting involved in a relationship with Wells. But the heart he’d given up for dead had other ideas.

Their affair was intense and overwhelming, but when Matty couldn’t bring himself to come out and admit he wanted a public future with the man he loved, Wells had no choice but to honor his vow to live openly…and leave Matty behind.

But then he learns Wells is marrying another, and Matty knows he can’t let that happen. Can he throw down his gloves and embrace his future with both hands? Or will he pull the door to his closet shut once more?



About the Author:

My name is Toni Aleo and I’m a total dork.
I am a wife, mother of two and a bulldog, and also a hopeless romantic.
I am the biggest Shea Weber fan ever, and can be found during hockey season with my nose pressed against the Bridgestone Arena’s glass, watching my Nashville Predators play!
When my nose isn’t pressed against the glass, I enjoy going to my husband and son’s hockey games, my daughter’s dance competition, hanging with my best friends, taking pictures, scrapbooking, and reading the latest romance novel.
I have a slight Disney and Harry Potter obsession, I love things that sparkle, I love the color pink, I might have been a Disney Princess in a past life… probably Belle.
… and did I mention I love hockey?

Connect with Toni!





Exquisite, a sexy, contemporary standalone from Ella Frank
has a hot new look and is FREE for a limited time only!



Her heart was guarded…

Tormented by self-imposed guilt, Dr. Lena O’Donnell has spent the last nine years in survival mode. Struggling through days that seem to blend together and battling her way through each horrifying night, she’s determined that this is what she deserves…

Until he tore down the walls…

Mason Langley’s life is going exactly the way he planned it, until her. A confirmed bachelor and the successful owner of the hottest restaurant to hit Chicago, he never expects to be blindsided by an angry woman in a pair of scrubs. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to shake the doctor, and he finds himself liking the way she makes him feel.

Almost overnight Lena finds her world turned upside down by Mason and the sexual desire they discover together. Slowly, she lowers her guard and invites him inside but when tragedy strikes she begins to believe that sometimes it’s better to be alone and safe than to love and lose.


Read Exquisite for FREE TODAY!



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All books in The Exquisite Series can be read as standalones.










What if everything you think you want isn’t what you actually need…

Dr. Shelly Monroe is a woman who doesn’t shy away from going after what she wants, but lately good sex has been hard to find. Shelly’s become increasingly frustrated with the men she’s been dating and the men she believes are the right choice.

Joshua Daniels is certainly not even close to the right choice. In fact he is exactly the wrong choice. For one thing, he’s Mason Langley’s best friend and best man. Second he’s too much of a risky complication for Shelly to even consider.

Then why can’t she stop thinking about how delicious he looked that first night she met him at Exquisite? Why is it so imperative to keep her lusty desire for a man that doesn’t meet her preconceived mold hidden from Lena and Mason, her trusted friends?

It seems unreasonable that being with a man completely wrong in theory could somehow feel so right. Then why is it the more she sees him the more enticing he becomes?

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Edible, delicious, delectable.

Rachel Langley is more than familiar with those three words in her line of work. After all, she spends her afternoons and evenings creating desserts so divine that your mouth will water and your taste buds will tingle.

They aren’t, however, the words she would have ever expected to think of when she locks eyes with a certain lawyer she knows only as Cole.

With each encounter, the infuriatingly persistent man becomes more impossible to resist, and edible is the exact word that comes to mind.

Crave, demand, covet.

Cole Madison knows exactly what he wants, and Rachel Langley is it. From the moment he spotted her at Whipped, he knew he wanted to grab hold and take a bite.

However, the woman has enigmatic moves, avoiding him at every turn.

But not for much longer.

Rachel’s time is up, and as far as Cole is concerned, he’s waited too long for a taste of what he desires. Nothing, including the woman herself, will stop him from consuming what he hungers for.

The only question left is: Who will take the first bite?

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About Ella Frank:EllaFrank

Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”

A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction and lives with her husband in Portland, OR. You can reach her on the web at and on Facebook at

Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.

Connect with Ella:

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