Category Archives: Want to read

BLOG TOUR ~ TALK BRITISH TO ME by Robin Bielman

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Talk British to Me, an all-new sexy STANDALONE
romance from Robin Bielman is available now!!

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Talk British to Me by Robin Bielman

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

As the Dating Guy on L.A.’s top morning show, I give the single guy’s perspective on dating, love, and sex—and I give great advice. Everyone’s hooking up…well, except for me. Sure, I can get any woman I want, but I’ve got a “no relationship” clause in my contract and the only woman I want has “relationship” written all over her. Probably stamped on her ass, too. And wouldn’t I like to confirm that.

Unfortunately, she wants nothing to do with me. At all. Something about the next Ice Age might have even come up in her rebuttal. Adorable. Because she’s determined to ignore what one simple kiss proved: she wants me as badly as I want her.

Everything in me is screaming to go after her, but I’ve got a secret that I’m fairly certain will end up with her roasting my nuts over an open fire. So, job on the line? Check. Nuts on the line? Check. Can’t get her out of my head? Nail…meet coffin. But what a way to go…



Excerpt

I lean down to whisper in her ear. I can’t help it. I can tell from her body language that I make her nervous, and right now I’m a total cad, but I’m curious to see her reaction to my words. She did walk right into them. “Are you saying I make you wet, Teague?”

The trunk pops open, almost hitting her in the forehead when she balks at my question. She’s blushing, but her warm blue eyes hook me with sparks of anger. Several charged seconds pass before she speaks.

“Does it hurt? Being so full of yourself?” She turns to rummage through a small pile of clothes in her trunk. “News flash, stuck-up”—she glances at my attire, I’m guessing—“jock, you don’t make me feel anything. I’m sure there are plenty of girls in this town you can charm the panties off of with your attitude and voice, but I’m not one of them. So please do me a favor and keep your unsavory thoughts to yourself.”

Several things about what she just said hit me like a ton of goddamn bricks. That she called me a jock makes me grin. I’m wearing long athletic shorts with my collared shirt and running shoes.

She’s right about girls’ panties, but she’s the only girl to mention my voice. What would she think if I used my British accent on her? The station manager says she gets more calls about my accent than anything else.

And this bolder, more assertive, yet wholesome Teague is hot.

Don’t even get me started on her use of the word “unsavory.”

I am so fucked.

This isn’t a random chick anymore. She works for my mom. This sweet, beautiful, genuine, fascinating girl has a last name and knows my mother.


TBTM-AN

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About Robin:Robin2-287x3001

When not attached to her laptop, USA Today Bestselling Author and RITA Finalist, Robin Bielman can almost always be found with her nose in a book. A California girl, the beach is her favorite place for fun and inspiration. Her fondness for swoon-worthy heroes who flirt and stumble upon the girl they can’t live without jumpstarts most of her story ideas.

She loves to go on adventures, and has skydived, scuba dived, parasailed, gotten lost in the wilderness (and only suffered a gazillion bug bites for it) hiked to waterfalls, and swam with dolphins. In her spare time she also likes to put her treadmill to good use while watching her favorite TV shows, take hikes with her hubby, indulge her sweet tooth, and play sock tug of war with her cute, but sometimes naughty dog, Harry.

She dreams of traveling to faraway places and loves to connect with readers. Keep in touch at all of her social media spots!

 

Connect With Robin:

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

Twitter: @RobinBielman

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/robin-bielman

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5825070.Robin_Bielman

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http://robinbielman.com


RELEASE BLITZ ~ At His Mercy by Shelly Bell

 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Angel in his arms . . . Devil at her heels

One last, no-strings night of indulgence. That’s all Tristan wants before he begins a much-needed new chapter in his life. Instead he finds an innocent angel in pink who brings him to his knees.

Isabella is done hiding from the world . . . and her haunting memories. Discovering courage in the arms of a perfect stranger, she finally lets go and sheds her inhibitions.

To Isabella’s shock, she soon learns that Tristan is more than her mystery man-he’s her professor. But Tristan isn’t the only person who’s found Isabella on campus. A dark figure from her past has come back for her. Now Tristan will risk anything to protect Isabella . . . even if it costs him his life.
 

 
“Good morning, everyone.”

Bent over, she froze. Her body broke out in goosebumps and her heart thumped erratically.
It wasn’t possible. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. There was no way that the man who had dominated her last week could be there right now, twelve hours north of the city where they’d met. She racked her brain, trying to remember if he’d mentioned anything about his personal life, but she came up completely empty. There had been plenty of innuendo and dirty talk during that night, but he’d never revealed anything about himself other than his first name.

How could he be a professor at his age? Weren’t they supposed to be…old?

But as the man behind the voice passed her on his way to the front of the room, she caught his scent, a scent she’d fantasized about for days, and sat up tall. Her gaze latched onto the back of him, raking over his lean form, and her chest tightened as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Just a few days ago, that form had been between her thighs.

When he reached the podium at the front of the room, he turned to the class. “I’m Professor Kelley, and I’ll be teaching Intro to Business this semester in Professor Crawford’s place.”

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair, gripping it as if it could save her from the horror of the situation.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Memories of that night swirled through her mind, lighting her on fire. Him caging her against the wall as they negotiated underneath the stars. Him biting her breasts and sucking her nipples until she writhed in ecstasy. Him intertwining their hands and looking into her eyes as he slowly brought her to an explosive climax. Him waking her up twice more that night, one time with his mouth between her legs.

Oh my God.

It was him.

Tristan.

She had fucked her professor.

Properly.

Hell, the bruises from that night still marred her skin. Whenever she changed her clothes, she’d made a point of checking to see if they were still there. They were reminders of how easily he’d commanded her body and the ways he’d brought her pleasure through pain.

She thought she’d never see him again, but now he was here, standing in front of her wearing a white button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up, showing off those muscular forearms of his, and all she could think about was how he’d used those muscles to hold himself over her as he thrust inside her.

“What happened to Professor Crawford?” a girl asked from the back.

Right. Professor Crawford. The man she was supposed to assist all year for her work-study. The one who held the future of her college education in his hands.

Tristan—no—Professor Kelley directed his attention to the girl sitting only a few rows behind Isabella, causing her heart to go from a gallop to a full-on sprint. Would he recognize her when he saw her? Or was she already forgotten as just one more interchangeable girl in a long line of submissives he’d fucked? She didn’t know which was worse.

“Unfortunately, Professor Crawford had a stroke a couple of weeks ago,” he said, only a handful of feet away from her. Why did she have to sit in the front row? “Dean Lancaster has asked me to take over his classes for the year.”

For a second, she lost the ability to breathe. Professor Crawford didn’t hold the future of her college education in his hands…

Professor Kelley did.

She was at his mercy.
  


 

 
 
 
 


 
A sucker for a happy ending, Shelly Bell writes erotic suspense and action-filled erotic thrillers with high-emotional stakes for her alpha heroes and kick-ass heroines.

She began writing upon the insistence of her husband who dragged her to the store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not working her day job, taking care of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.

She is the author of the BENEDICTION and FORBIDDEN LOVERS series.
  
 



CHAPTER REVEAL ~ Blood Enemy by Mina Carter

 

 
 
 
 
 
Coming June 27th
 
 
Feral doesn’t do babies. Or pixies. So when someone dumps a pixie baby of all things on his doorstep, he does the only thing he can think of. He tries to palm it off on someone else. Unfortunately his neighbor is out of town, leaving her sister, Tessa, to house-sit. Her single and disturbingly attractive sister. Which leaves Feral with a couple of problems, especially when a bunch of pixie ninja wannabes break into the place and try to steal the baby. Does he turn his back on the pixies, a race he’s always hated… or will Tessa cast her own spell on the strong, silent-type Kyn Warrior?

 


 
Chapter one

There was a baby on his doorstep.
Feral stood in the open doorway of his apartment and looked down at the small bundle with confusion. Wrapped in a pale-yellow blanket, one pudgy arm and leg had escaped from the folds to punch and kick with enthusiasm. Gurgles filled the air, bursting with baby satisfaction and happiness. Whatever it thought it was fighting, in its mind it was obviously winning.
He scrubbed a hand over his shorn head. What was a baby doing on his doorstep?
“Well, hello little…actually, what the hell are you?” he murmured. “And how did you get out here?”
He squatted down to pick it up. It took three attempts. His large hands weren’t the right shape to pick up something so tiny. Lifting the squirming bundle carefully, he glanced up and down the corridor, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever had knocked on his door.
Nothing. Zip. Nada. Not surprising. Even if someone had been lurking in the shadows, the near six and a half feet of bare-chested kyn male who’d opened the door would have scared them off for sure.
Then the smell hit him.
Pungent and forceful, it stripped several layers off the inside of his nose like a gallon of paint thinner. Recoiling, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Fuck, are you supposed to smell that bad, mate?”
He looked at the baby in surprise, settling it into the crook of his arm. He didn’t really want it so close, not smelling as foul as it did, but he couldn’t leave it alone on the floor.
“Okay, let’s see who you are then.” He reached out to move the edge of the blanket covering the baby’s face and then froze. His lips peeled back from his fangs.
Its hair was bright pink.
Which meant two things: one, the baby was male, and two, it was a pixie. They were the only species Feral knew of with such weird hair colors.
“You just had to be a bloody pixie, didn’t you?” He glared up and down the corridor again. Still no one.
He sighed heavily. There was no point standing out on the doorstep like a spare prick at an orgy. A chill ran up the hallway and he looked down at the baby. He couldn’t leave it out here, even if it was a pixie. It would freeze to death.
He stepped back into his apartment, hooking a bare foot around the door and kicking it shut before wandering into the main room. Coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the open area, he frowned. What the hell did he do now?
It was one of his rare nights off, so he wasn’t dressed for company. A pair of ripped, faded jeans hung off his hips and his feet were bare. Alone as he was, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. And he’d already had a couple of beers, make that a lot of beers, so he couldn’t drive. Which left him with a problem. A small, baby-shaped problem.
He looked down, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the baby opened its eyes and blinked at him. Its wide, bright eyes were peacock blue.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any suggestions as to what we should do?”
The baby just looked back and smiled the toothless, gummy smile of the very young. Feral had to admit, for a pixie, he was cute. The sort of cute that women went gaga over. The baby was also more placid than he’d been led to believe babies were. As the thought wandered through Feral’s mind, though, the baby’s face crumpled.
“WwwwwwwuuuuaaahhhHHHHHHHHHH!”
The cry started off low, but then swelled and grew in volume, like an old-fashioned air raid siren. Feral had only ever heard them in films, but now, he held an appreciation of what it must have been like in London during the Blitz. It seemed impossible someone so small could make so much noise. But he was, threatening to pierce Feral’s eardrums with the sheer volume.
“Shh…shh…shh, it’s fine. Everything’s fine!” He jiggled the baby a little, trying to calm it down, but this action only released fresh waves of the foul stench emanating from the diaper.
It wasn’t fine. It was so far from fine it beggared belief. He must really have pissed the fates off at some point for them to dump a baby on him… a pixie baby no less, when his dislike…no, his hatred of pixies was well known. Perhaps he’d kicked kittens or puppies in a former life or something.
Out of ideas, he strode across the room to the breakfast counter. The apartments on his block were open plan, with the kitchen and dining room leading into the main living space. Bathrooms and bedrooms were separated by the narrow excuse for an entrance hall.
He located his cell behind a couple of empty beer bottles and flicked it open. Vixen would know what to do. His partner of several years, and a mother herself, she’d know what to do with a baby. If he was lucky, she might even offer to look after the child for him.
Here’s hoping, he thought, hitting speed dial for Vixen and lifting it to his ear.
“Hi, you’ve reached Vixen’s phone…”
“Crap,” Feral swore as his patrol partner’s voicemail cut in. He’d forgotten Vixen’s mate, Kalen, had taken her out of town for the weekend. A second honeymoon since Vix had been eight months pregnant, and the size of a house, during their first.
“Fuckit.” He flicked the phone shut and tapped the edge of it against his teeth. Then he realized the terrible wail had stopped and he looked down in surprise. Peacock blue eyes were fixed on his cell.
“Oh, you like this, huh?” He smiled and waggled the phone. The baby watched it, tracking the movement. Feral frowned—he didn’t know they could do that until they were older. He shrugged. He must be mistaken. The little man was tracking the phone like a hawk.
Pudgy fists emerged from the blanket and made a grab for the sleek silver case, fastening around it and wrenching the thing from Feral’s grasp. He chuckled, an expression that turned to horror the next instant as the baby stuffed it into his mouth.
“No no no… Not good, not food!” he exclaimed as his phone was used as a teething ring.
“Give the phone back to Feral. There’s a good little boy,” he coaxed and worked to get a finger between the baby’s mouth and the phone. But the slobbering little thing had formed an unbreakable seal and he couldn’t even get his smallest finger in. He hissed in frustration, looking at the baby in confusion as he tried several different angles. It was no good. His hands were too big, more accustomed to battling rogue vampires than dealing with tiny babies.
Finally, he managed it, sliding his finger down the side and popping the phone free. He grimaced as his finger and the phone came away covered in baby slobber, and he held the phone up in triumph. A furious squeal tore the air while little fists struggled and pummeled the air.
“WWWWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
“Shit. Here.”
Feral stuffed the phone back in the baby’s mouth, silencing the squeal as quickly as it had started. Great, so what did he do now? He had no clue how to take care of a baby and had no time to learn. He needed to do something about the smell soon as well because it was getting worse.
Diapers. He needed diapers. But what sort, and where could he get them from? Disposable ones would be fine—he wasn’t all earth-momma like the woman two units down. He often saw her in the basement with laundry loads of white diapers.
His eyes widened. A woman with children. Even better, she had pixie blood. Once you’d seen one pixie woman, it was easy to spot them. Which meant he wouldn’t have to explain why the baby was sporting what looked like a bad dye job.
Grinning, he did an about face. Sliding his feet into a pair of heavy boots, he trudged out the door in search of salvation.

***

The tub of ice cream in the freezer was calling Tessa’s name. Chocolate fudge brownie—her favorite comfort food. After the crap day she’d had, she didn’t care about the extra calorie load. Fresh from the shower and swaddled in one of her sister’s huge toweling robes, she padded into the kitchen to collect the tub and a spoon. She didn’t bother with a bowl. Instead, she just pulled the lid off and dug in, right there in front of the freezer.
“Mmm…” She moaned in pleasure as the first taste of the chocolatey, gooey treat hit her tongue. The stresses of the day melted away, aided by the long, hot shower she’d just had and the taste of the ice cream. A little taste of her childhood. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the freezer.
Today had been the day from hell. Working in a busy logistics office meant everything had been put on hold when the trunk shipments had been late, throwing the whole day into disarray. It also meant Tessa didn’t get to leave until late. Considering she’d been on duty since 6 a.m., it hadn’t impressed her.
Finally, she’d been able to escape, a long weekend ahead of her. But even then, she hadn’t been finished. She’d agreed to house sit for her older sister Lisa, who was off for a break with her hubby and the twins. So, it had been a mad dash home to throw whatever she needed into a weekend bag and then a breakneck drive over to the apartment to catch Lisa before she left to get the usual “remember to feed the fish” chat. Lisa was only a couple of years older than Tessa, but anyone would think she was Methuselah the way she carried on.
Now though, all was calm. Tessa had waved Lisa and James off, twins already asleep and packed up in the back of the car, a little over an hour ago. Just enough time to unwind over a glass of wine as she watched the evening news and take a long, hot shower.
She just loved the shower here. A power unit, it had a setting that felt like needles bombarding her skin—thousands of tiny, dull pinpricks that took her breath away and felt wonderful after the day she’d had. She’d stood there for a full five minutes under the spray before even reaching for the shower gel.
Opening her eyes, she dug the spoon into the ice cream again, tucking the tub into the crook of her arm as she headed through to the main room. Flopping down in the middle of the comfortable sofa, she rooted around for the remote, spoon in mouth. It was there somewhere, she just needed to find it and then she’d be all set. The player was loaded with tonight’s choice of chick flick movie, one she’d been looking forward to watching for weeks but just hadn’t found the time to see. Now, she had the time. This weekend was all about her and relaxation. Lots of relaxation.
“Ahh, there you are.” She recovered the missing remote from under one of the scatter cushions. Her sister was obsessed with the things. Either that or they were breeding in here.
Sighing in satisfaction, she spooned more ice cream into her mouth as she flicked the player on. She curled her legs up under her and settled herself into a more comfortable position as the opening credits rolled. Life didn’t get much better than this.
Rap, rap, rap.
“Damn it.” She looked over her shoulder, but the knock on the front door continued as she stared. Who was that? Had to be a cold caller, she decided. A total control freak, Lisa would have let all her friends know she was going to be away. Which meant it had to be someone who didn’t know Lisa or James. And if it was, perhaps they would go away if she ignored them.
Rap, rap, RAP.
No such luck, the hammering got worse. Tessa sighed as she contemplated moving, flicking pause on the remote and freezing the scrolling text on the TV screen.
“This had better be good,” she grumbled under her breath as she put the tub on the floor, drove the spoon into the melting ice cream with a vicious stab, and then got to her feet. It had better be good…and quick, since she had a major fan-girl thing for the actor in the movie. The quicker she got back to ogle his toned and sculptured bod, the happier she’d be.
She grumbled under her breath all the way to the door, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. Ever security-conscious, she threw the chain over before she opened it a crack.
“Hello?” That was as far as she got. The sight that met her eyes stopped any further comment in her throat.
On her doorstep was the most handsome, ripped guy she’d ever seen. Her eyes started at the middle of the broad chest, noting the heavily toned muscles as they moved outward. A long way outward. The guy was huge. And tall. Her eyes flicked upward. He had to be well over six feet. Made her feel kind of dainty, which wasn’t something Tessa got to feel very often.
He was also carrying a baby.
She blinked in surprise. Okay, this was one situation she wasn’t used to facing. Drop-dead gorgeous men did not appear on her doorstep with babies. They didn’t appear on her doorstep at all, with or without babies.
“Sorry, can I help you?”
“You might just save my life.” His voice was a low rumble that took Tessa’s breath away. The sort of sound that did things to her insides on a very primitive level.
“Um, okay?” she managed, dark eyes flicking to the bundle he carried. Then a slight breeze in the corridor, someone must have opened a door down the way, carried the unmistakable scent of a dirty diaper.
“Hmm, not being funny… but you might want to change the baby before you take it out visiting,” she suggested. And maybe put a shirt on, she added mentally. Although, she was enjoying the view. What kind of a father was he, though, bringing his baby out with a dirty diaper?
“That would be the problem.” He shifted the baby in his arms and smoothed the edge of the blanket down. Tessa caught her breath at the color of its hair.
It was bright pink, a color she’d only seen in the full-blooded members of her mother’s family. He looked at her and smiled, the merest hint of fang showing. “As you can see, it’s not mine. Someone just left it on my doorstep and I haven’t a clue what to do with it.”
He was a vampire.
The knowledge stunned Tessa for a moment, almost as much as his appearance on the doorstep had, and fear hit her system like a bullet. As she watched, he shifted on his feet a fraction and the light fell across the marks across the left side of his face and body. Her breath left her lungs in a rush.
“You’re a kyn warrior,” she exclaimed in relief, glad she hadn’t opened her door to a rogue vampire.
Even though the small amount of pixie blood flowing in her veins protected her from being turned into a vampire, rogue vamps were more interested in the high from a kill than turning their victims. And they generally didn’t use a baby as a decoy. They were more into breaking the doors down to get at their victims. A baby would be little more than a macabre snack.
“Live and kicking…name’s Feral,” he introduced himself, grinning a little. The small expression curved his full lips, transforming his rather cruel features…features made starker by the shaved hairstyle… from merely gorgeous, to devastating.
“Tessa, pleased to meet you,” she replied on automatic, silence stretching between them.

***

“So,” Feral continued, “you going to help me out here? The little guy…he’s really beginning to smell bad…” He watched her, hope coiling in his chest. When she’d first opened the door, his heart had sunk. She wasn’t the woman he remembered in the laundry.
However, she was a pixie. He could see the slight glamour clinging to her, making her appear more human. On second inspection, there was also a faint family resemblance to the woman with the diapers. Younger sister maybe? He tried that route.
“I remembered your…sister?” He smiled, a cautious edge in his voice as he hoped he’d gotten it right. Women could be funny about ages. Relief shot through him as she nodded.
“I remembered your sister has kids, so when I found him, I came ‘round to beg mercy…and a couple of diapers.” He grinned as he tried his hardest to be charming and personable. She only had to look at him to see he wasn’t a baby sort of guy. Practicing for making babies, yes. Dealing with the result, no.
Come on, sweetheart, say yes.
His silent plea seemed to work, her coffee-cream eyes flicking over him again. Feral shivered, the look like a caress over his skin. His nipples tightened as a thrill shot through him. She stepped back and released the chain.
“Come on. Bring him in and we’ll get him cleaned up,” she ordered, her voice brusque. Feral stalled, not used to being ordered around… no that was a lie. He was used to being ordered around. Vixen did it regularly, as did their boss Marak, the current kyn monarch. But both Vixen and Marak weren’t people one would want to piss off in a hurry while this woman was, well, tiny. And curvy to boot—the figure the shapeless toweling robe hinted at was enough to make his mouth water.
He followed her into the living room, looking around the plush interior and dismissing it just as quickly. It had all the hallmarks of expensive interior design and was about as interesting as the back of a cereal box.
“Come on. Let’s have him down here then.” She dragged out a changing mat from its hiding place behind the sofa, plopping it on the floor as she glanced at him. “The diapers will be a bit big, but it’s better than leaving him dirty. Can you take his diaper off while I get a fresh one?” She arched an eyebrow, obviously doubting his ability to carry out even that simple task.
“Of course.”
He kneeled to settle the baby in the middle of the changing mat. He could do this. But for such a small, little thing, it took virtually every part of Feral’s body to make sure he was placed carefully on the mat.
“Look, mate, you aren’t making this easy you know,” Feral muttered, trying to get his nose as far away from his hands as he could without turning his head or being on the other side of the room. He’d managed to remove the diaper, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it contained.
He grimaced as he considered the contents, not sure what he was supposed to do now. He’d watched Vixen change her little daughter, Marianne, more times than he could remember, and she’d always made it look easy. Grabbing a wipe, he tried to remove the sticky mess on its ass and quickly found out it wasn’t as easy as it looked.
“What the fuck is this stuff?” he muttered, not managing to clean it off but just smear it around more. “Fucking industrial glue?”
He heard a stifled giggle and found the little pixie woman watching him. At the sight of her, he sucked in a hard breath. She was utterly beautiful. He’d known she was a pixie, and he’d thought he could see through her glamour to what lay beneath, but now he realized the truth. He could see the glamour itself, and the potential of what lay beneath, but nothing more.
Now though, she’d stripped the glamour away and he could see her true appearance. And it was stunning. Exotic, feline-cast eyes dominated a small heart-shaped face, with a tiny button of a nose and full lips he ached to taste. Her chin was small but delicate and the arch of her slender neck, half hidden by the mass of dark curls, made both his cock and his fangs ache. One look and he wanted her in the worst way, under him as he drove both his fangs and his cock into her soft sweetness.
“Just where I like to see a man,” she quipped, “on his knees. Come out of the way. You’re just making it worse.” She shooed him away and then knelt in front of the baby, who was taking advantage of the moment to try and flip himself over. Reaching a hand out, she stopped him just before he managed it and tapped his nose playfully.
“Oh no you don’t, handsome,” she chuckled, catching his ankles in one hand and cleaning him up with the other. Her movements were swift and efficient and within a few seconds, the baby was cleaned up with a fresh diaper on him. Feral blinked, unsure how she’d managed it so quickly. Magic, obviously.
“There we go, all clean and dry. Aren’t you a clever little man?” She fastened his top as he wriggled again, doing his best to escape. Grinning, she caught him, his chortles filling the room as she tickled his sides.
Smiles wreathed her face and Feral bit back another surge of lust. He wanted her. Badly. She wasn’t his normal type. Kyn women tended to be tall, slender and pale whereas she was petite and curvy, with dark warm hair and eyes that reminded him of chocolate. But he didn’t care. Everything about her called out to him. Unaware of his attention, she tickled the baby again, running her fingers along the soles of his bare feet as she reached for his trousers.
“He’s a gorgeous little thing,” she commented. “So, he was just left on your doorstep?”
“Yeah, about half an hour ago. Was a bit of a surprise…usually I just get pizza delivery,” he chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. “Not the domestic type.”
“Pizza? I didn’t think vampires ate?” She flicked a glance up at him while she finished dressing the little one. Picking him up, she handed him over. “Here, hold him for a moment while I clear this lot up. Hey…what’s this?”
A piece of paper fell free of the yellow blanket as she picked it up. Reaching down, she recovered it from the floor as Feral watched, jiggling the now clean-smelling baby in his large arms. It was a sheet from a reporter’s notebook, crumpled and folded into quarters. She smoothed it out and frowned at the words scrawled on it in a hasty hand.
“What’s it say?” He shifted closer, peering over her shoulder. The scent of shower gel and warm woman enveloped her, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He really needed to get laid if just being close to a woman stirred up a reaction like that.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s an old fae script, I think… This is more Lisa’s kettle of fish than mine. Some of it I recognize,” she pointed out a word in the middle, fingernail tapping the paper lightly. “This is the word for Morrigan. Oh, shit!”
She looked up at him, eyes wide.
“What? What is it?” Feral frowned, brows raised.
“He…the baby…he’s a Morrigan. There’s a fae prophecy about a male Morrigan… The only male Morrigan.” She swallowed, visibly shaken. “When he grows up, I think he’s going to be a god.”
 


 
 

Mina was born and raised in the East Farthing of Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England) and spend her childhood learning all the sorts of things generally required of a professional adventurer. Able to ride, box, shoot, make and read maps, make chainmail and use a broadsword (with varying degrees of efficiency) she was disgusted to find that adventuring is not considered a suitable occupation these days.

So, instead of slaying dragons and hunting vampires and the like, Mina spends her days writing about hot shifters, government conspiracies and vampire lords with more than their fair share of RAWR. Turns out wanna-be adventurers have quite the turn of imagination after all…

(But she keeps that sword sharp, just in case the writing career is just a dream and she really *is* an adventurer.)

The boring part: A full time author and cover artist, Mina can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or graphics tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She’s addicted to coffee and would like to be addicted to chocolate, but unfortunately chocolate dislikes her.
 
 
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COVER REVEAL ~ Whispered Prayers of A Girl by

 
 
3…2…1….
 
COVER REVEAL!
 
 
 
 
 
Her whispered prayers break her…
 
At night, as she’s drifting off to sleep, I press my ear to the door and listen to her heart wrenching pleas to bring her father back. Her words are agony to my healing heart, but I cherish the sound of them, for that’s the only time I ever hear my beautiful daughter speak. Since her father died two years ago, she’s grown quiet and withdrawn. Catalina’s Valley is to be our new beginning, a place where my family and I can heal, but what we find there is so much more.
 
 
Scars mar his body. Pain has darkened his life…
 
Three years ago, I lost the two things I cherished most in the world. They were ripped from my arms in the most painful and cruel way. Since then, I’ve kept to myself, preferring to stay away from the pitying looks and the uttered rumors. Everything changed when she and her children barged into my life. It was an accident, not meant to happen, but I wonder if maybe it was.
 
 
A tortured soul meets a damaged heart…
 
A lonely man, a widowed woman, a carefree boy, and a broken girl… Can the four come together and help heal each other?
Or will fear of the unknown and guilt of the past keep them apart?

 


 
 
 

 


 
 
 

Alex Grayson is originally from the south, but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio, she absolutely loves living in the north. Her and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, son, one dogs, two cats, eight ducks, and three chickens. She hopes to eventually get a couple of goats to add to their country way of living. Besides her family and home, her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind, she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her, she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind. She can be contacted at alexgraysonauthor@gmail.com.

 



 

 


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COVER REVEAL ~ Pitch Please (There’s No Crying in Baseball #1) by Lani Lynn Vale

Title: Pitch Please
Series: There’s No Crying in Baseball

Author: Lani Lynn Vale

Genre: Sports Romance

Release Date: September 8, 2017
Photographer: Michael Stokes
Cover Model: BT Urella
 
 
 
 

Baseball is life, the rest is just details.
 
Everyone who’s played the game has heard those words a time or two. But Hancock has heard them his entire life from his parents. His family has lived and breathed baseball even before he started little league.
 
Hancock “Parts” Peters has a name that inspires grins across many faces, but the moment those faces get their first look at him, those grins slide away.
 
Hancock is gruff, filterless, and doesn’t give a crap who he offends. He is the only man in baseball who doesn’t care if he gets an endorsement or not. He’s there to play the game. He’s there to win. He’s there because baseball is his life.
 
People think he’s a jerk.
 
And maybe he is. But if that’s how he has to come off to get people to leave him the hell alone so he can play in peace, so be it.
The less people he has to worry about offending, the better.
 
***
 
Don’t let the fear of striking out hold you back. 
 
Sway Coffman didn’t mean to rock the boat. She was just there to do her job.
 
Sure, she was a woman in a man’s world. Yes, she beat out several of those men to get the job as head athletic trainer for the professional baseball team, The Texas Lumberjacks. And yeah, she now got hate mail from those men.
 
But she’s good at her job, and she earned the position.
 
What she is not good at, however, is talking to men.
 
Men seem to see her curvy hips, large breasts and thick thighs and automatically think she is incompetent.
Because surely a fat girl couldn’t get the job treating some of the most fit and athletic men in the world, right?
 
Wrong.
 
This fat girl got the job, and she is proud of it.
 
What else did she get?
 
The attention of the sexiest bearded man she’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.
 
It was enough to bring to her down to her knees…in front of that man, the hot and grumpy baseball player, Hancock Peters.

 

 

 

 


 

“Mr. Peters!” Someone called from further down the hallway that led to the field. “Mr. Peters! Wait!”
Hancock looked over his shoulder, agitation clearly written all over his face.
“I’ve already told you I won’t be doing it.” Hancock informed the small man.
And he was small.
Maybe not compared to a normal man, but standing next to Hancock the man looked positively minimal.
“Please,” the man continued as if Hancock hadn’t even spoken. “This is a multi-thousand dollar commercial that we’ve been planning for months. Surely you understand that we’re doing it for…”
“Craig,” Hancock growled. “I am not doing the Harlem Shake. Do I look like a man that does the fucking Harlem Shake?”
Craig, who I guessed was in control of PR, smiled soothingly.
“Parts,” he held out his hand.
I still wondered why he was called Parts, but I wasn’t ever going to ask him.
It was weird, and it was also a freakin’ secret. Everyone in the entire league wondered and speculated why he was called Parts. Nobody knew, though.
“I’ll be there. But only if I can sit in the back and nobody sees me.” Hancock conceded. “And don’t try to move me, or I’m leaving. Capisce?”
Craig nodded his head urgently.
“How much time do we have until we start?” Hancock asked Craig.
“Oh, about twenty minutes or so. Do you need me to bring you anything to drink?” Craig asked, happy now that he’d gotten his way.
But I knew that Craig hadn’t gotten his way.
Far from it.
If I had my guess, Hancock wouldn’t even be in the commercial.
He’d literally stay on the sidelines and make it a point to stay out of each of every shot, just like he did after games when reporters were hoping to interview him.
Then there were the photos that featured him in them.
None of them were taken with his permission.
Other than the one that the MLB used to show his stats during games, I’d never seen one picture with him looking at the camera.
“No, no drink Craig. Thank you.” Hancock waved Craig off.
The moment Craig was dismissed, he hurried back in the direction of the field, a freakin’ skip in his step.
When he rounded the corner, I turned to face Hancock fully again.
“What?” I asked, wondering what that look on his face was about.
“I’m not doing the Harlem Shake.” He repeated.
I held up my hands in understanding.
“I’m not much of a dancer, either. You and me can hang out in the back like the losers we are.” I teased.
I hadn’t meant that either of us were necessarily real losers or anything, and the moment the words left my lips, I realized how it sounded.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding up my hand. “In no way, shape, or form am I accusing you of being a loser.”
He grinned.
“It’s okay.” He winked. “I don’t dance. I don’t do pictures. In fact, if I had my way, I wouldn’t even be here right now.”
I smiled at him.
“Sway!” Someone called. “Let’s go! We have to sit together in the front.”
Sinclair, the one man in the entire complex that I didn’t want to see, was standing there sneering at me.
“She’s not sitting in the front, Sinclair. She’s sitting with me in the back. We have to talk about what I expect out of her this season.” Hancock rumbled, stopping me with a large hand on my arm when I went to move around him.


 

 

 


 

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I’m a married mother of three. My kids are all under 5, so I can assure you that they are a handful. I’ve been with my paramedic husband now for ten years, and we’ve produced three offspring that are nothing like us. I live in the greatest state in the world, Texas!
 
 
 


 

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BLOG TOUR ~ One Night with A SEAL: ALL OUT by Tawny Weber

Come Celebrate the release of One Night with a SEAL With Tawny Weber

One night. Two SEAL brothers. Endless sexy possibilities!

Navy SEAL Zane Bennett isn’t one to turn away from a challenge, but he’s determined to win the bet he has with his twin brother. Will he win the bet, or lose his heart to the woman of his dreams?

If you loved, UNDER PRESSURE by Lori Foster A SEAL’S PLEDGE by Cora Seton
you’ll devour with ALL OUT by Tawny Weber.

One Night With A Seal: All Out (Uniformly Hot!, Book 78) / All In (Uniformly Hot!, Book 79) (Mills & Boon Blaze) (Uniformly Hot!, Book 78) by [Weber, Tawny, Andrews, Beth]

Title: All Out
Series: Uniformly Hot!
Author: Tawny Weber and Beth Andrews

Release Date: June 1, 2017

Synopsis:

ALL OUT by Tawny Weber

Navy SEAL Zane Bennett can’t walk away from a challenge. He’s determined to win a bet with his brother—until he collides with the luscious Vivian Harris. Their attraction is immediate and searingly hot, but Zane can’t bring himself to bow out of the bet. Now the game is really on…and Zane is embroiled in a wicked matchup he can’t resist!

 

ALL IN by Beth Andrews

Of the Bad Boy Bennett twins, Navy SEAL Xander is always the gentleman. That is, until he’s challenged to go against his brother for a date with Quinn Oswald—the girl Xander’s wanted since high school! It takes only one kiss for Quinn and Xander’s deliciously sexy chemistry to explode. But how much is Xander willing to gamble…before he goes all in?

Find out more at: Amazon| Harlequin | Kobo |  B&N  | iBooks



Excerpt: 

Vivian wiggled into the most romantic corner booth she could wheedle and ordered a sparkling water.  No point enjoying wine until she knew she’d enjoy the evening, too.

She pulled out her cellphone.  No cancellation message.

That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Half the time, Vivian felt like her dreams were a tease.  All too often she got within kissing distance of her goal, and poof, there it went.  No big payoff, no awesome climax, nothing.

Because, why?  Because she always blew it.

She shouldn’t have told him her name.

She should have teased instead, said she’d tell him tonight.

Maybe she shouldn’t have let him in on the what she made at The Sweet Spot, either.  Sure, a lot of guys saw that as a turn on, but there were just as many who subscribed to the prude theory.  Like her brother.

And he was Mike’s friend.

Then again, so was Lenny.

Before she’d finished her confused sigh, Zane walked in. And all of her doubts took a backseat to the sight of how gorgeous the man was.  Vivian sat up a little straighter.  Shoulders back, chin high and chest probably jiggling because her heart was beating so fast, she smiled and sent him a little wave.

“Vivian,” he greeted as he joined her.

“Zane.”

“So you’re Mike’s little sister, hmm?”

“Ahh, so the dare worked.”  Vivian laughed.  “How many times did you consider bailing?”

“Bailing?  I’ll have you know I’m trained to confront conflicts of all shape and size.  I fearlessly face down explosives, disarm bombs and disable volatile chemicals. Sometimes all three before breakfast.”

“Tell me more.”  Delighted, Vivian put on a wide eyed look of fascination, even adding a little eyelash flutter for good measure.

“I train with the best.  I’m one of the elite.  There’s no challenge devised that I won’t face.”  He leaned in, his smile almost hypnotic as he teased.  “Baby, I never bail.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that,” Vivian declared as the waiter brought Zane a beer and refilled her water.

“But, here’s the thing—” he started to say as soon as the waiter left.

“No,” she moaned.  “Not the thing.”

There was only one thing of Zane’s that she wanted to hear about.

“Here’s the thing,” Zane continued, laughing.  “Some guys have rules about buds dating their sisters.  Sisters, cousins, moms.  Guys get weird thinking the women in their lives have sex.  They get even weirder when they know the guy putting the moves on that sex.”

Lips pursed, Vivian propped her elbow on the table, rested her chin on her fist and fluttered her lashes.

“Aren’t you taking a leap there, assuming we’d definitely be having sex?”

Zane blinked, looked horrified for one second, then shook his head.

“I’m speaking generally, not specifically.”  Then he narrowed his eyes.  “Are you saying that you see this thing between us as platonic?”

“Of course not.  I plan on having a great deal of sex with you,” she purred.  “A mind-blowing amount, as a matter of fact.”

“Mind blowing, hmm?”

“Indeed.”  She reached out with her free hand to trail her fingers over the back of his knee.  Up his thigh, then back down again.  Oh, baby, even through denim, his muscles were rigidly impressive.

He clamped his hand down, locking hers down on his thigh.

“Only one thing.”

“Only one?”

“Only one.”  Zane entwined his fingers through hers.  “Your brother.”

“Oh, please,” she objected.  “Like you’re afraid of my brother?  The man wears argyle socks and loafers, for crying out loud.”

Zane’s snicker escaped before he could stop it, then he shook his head.  “Mike’s footwear isn’t the issue. The fact that you’re his little sister is the issue.”

Vivian debated for a handful of approaches.

She could keep blathering about her brother.  That’d put an end to either of their interest in anything after a while.  Mike was like a sedative.

She could offer him an easy out, a simple excuse to end the evening so he wasn’t in danger of violating his bro code.  Given there was a lifelong friendship involved, that’d be the nicest thing to do.

She could seduce Zane into forgetting about the bro code, which would ensure her one night of dreams-come-true-ecstasy.

Or she could do the unthinkable.

Vivian took a deep breath, her eyes locked on Zane’s face.  He had such a sweet smile and sexy eyes.  And there were dreams at stake here, dammit.

So she reached into her bag to do the unthinkable.

“What are you doing?”

She finished dialing her brother’s number.

“Getting you a bro code clearance.”

“Mike,” she said the minute he picked up.  “Let’s play what if. What if I have the hots for one of your friends?  What if this friend wants to make a move but he’s worried about upsetting you, so I want to make the move instead?  What would your feelings be on that?”

“He’s afraid of me?” Mike laughed.  “Wish him luck.”

“Okey dokey,” she agreed, hanging up and giving Zane her most seductive smile.

Zane gave her a long look, the kind that made her want to squirm in her seat and breathe a little heavier.

Then he smiled.

“You know he thinks you’re referring to Lenny, don’t you?”

Vivian ran her tongue over her lower lip and leaned into the table. Just enough to highlight her cleavage. She waited until Zane’s gaze returned to her eyes before giving a delicate little shrug.

“Can I help it if my brother is an idiot?”


About Tawny Weber:

New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling author of more than forty books, Tawny Weber loves writing about sexy heroes, most notably her popular Navy SEALs series.  Her sassy, emotional romances are filled with men dedicated to being the best—and women determined to have the best.  Tawny credits her ex-military alpha husband for inspiration in her writing, and in her life.   The recipient of numerous writing accolades, including Romantic Times Reviewers Choice and in addition to the NY Times and USA Today bestseller lists, Tawny has also hit the number one spot on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

A homeschooling mom, Tawny enjoys scrapbooking, gardening and spending time with her family and dogs in her Northern California home.

 

Connect with Tawny: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads  


GIVEAWAY

Grand Prize: Sexy Seal Tote Bag and autographed back-list book (INT)

3 Runners Up will receive A Sexy Seal Novella Anthology (ebook)

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COVER REVEAL ~ For the Love of Beard (The Dixie Warden Rejects #7) by Lani Lynn Vale

Title: For The Love of Beard
Series: The Dixie Warden Rejects #7
Author: Lani Lynn Vale

 

Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: August 25, 2017
Photographer: Golden @Furious Fotog
Model: Golden Czermak
 
 
 
 
 
Tobias knows that women are a lot of trouble, and one in particular is more trouble than most. Yet even with the knowledge that she’s a pain in the ass, he doesn’t stop himself from doing the one thing he knows that he shouldn’t do—fall in love with her. 

It’s supposed to be simple. Get in, get the girl, and get out.

What Tobias isn’t supposed to do is fall for the woman he’s supposed to rescue. But he can’t help being intrigued–and amused–by the defiance rolling off Audrey every time he so much as speaks to her. This fascination only intensifies with every single word from her delectable mouth.

***

It’s been six years since her assault, yet it feels like it happened just yesterday. Audrey’s sick and tired of feeling so useless. She’s had enough of being scared, she’s doesn’t want to be all alone for the rest of her life. All of that boils down to a woman who’s had enough of not doing anything to reclaim her life.

She’s at a loss as to how to move on, and every attempt she makes results in failure. Just when she’s ready to quit, a sexy biker is there to push her out of her comfort zone.

Under Tobias’ patient guidance, Audrey slowly makes her way back to herself. She lands a job that she adores, and she thinks she’s finally found her place in this world. Most surprisingly, though, she finds herself falling in love with a man that honestly scares her to death.

Just when she vows to take that final step that’ll put her past in her past forever, the life she wants to live is yanked away. Leaving her with nothing to pick up the pieces.


 

 

 

 
 
 
I’m a married mother of three. My kids are all under 5, so I can assure you that they are a handful. I’ve been with my paramedic husband now for ten years, and we’ve produced three offspring that are nothing like us. I live in the greatest state in the world, Texas.
 
 


 
 

 

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EXCERPT REVEAL ~ HOT COP by Laurelin Paige & Sierra Simone

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“Filthy, fun, and filled with heart. Hot Cop is going on my re-read shelf.”

–Audrey Carlan, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author

Hot Cop_amazon

Hot Cop, an all-new sexy, standalone from New York Times Bestseller Laurelin Paige and USA Today Bestseller Sierra Simone is coming June 13th!!!

Hot Cop by Laurelin Paige & Sierra Simone
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

From NYT Bestselling Author, Laurelin Paige and USA Today Bestselling Author, Sierra Simone comes a steamy contemporary romantic follow-up to last year’s bestseller P*rn Star.

You have the right to remain sexy.

Anything you say can and will be used to get you in my bed.

You have the right to use my body to give yourself a delirious, life-changing orgasm.

If you have trouble…don’t worry, I’m a bit of an expert in that department.

There’s nothing ‘thin’ about my blue line, if you catch my drift, and trust me, I know how to put those handcuffs to good use.

***

Livia Ward wants a baby before she’s thirty. And even though Officer Chase Kelly is exactly the kind of cocky jerk this librarian has sworn off, he is undeniably hot. Both of them think they can give each other what they want–a few nights of fun for Officer Kelly, a no-strings baby for Livia–but this hot cop is about to learn that sex, babies, and love don’t always play by the rules.



Excerpt:

I’m absolutely serious when I repeat my request. “Your baby. I want your baby.”

He swallows. “That’s.” He nods. “No.” He shakes his head. “I.” He fidgets in his chair, looking around the restaurant. “Waiter!” he calls to the server walking by who is most definitely not our waiter.

“Can I get you something, sir?”

“I’m going to need another drink.” Chase holds up his beer. “Another two drinks.”

“I’ll tell your server,” the waiter says and slips away.

I open my mouth but Chase says, “I’m going to need a minute.” I start to speak anyway, and he puts a finger up to silence me.

I sigh. I knew I was going about this wrong. I should have blown him first. Or I shouldn’t have approached this from the sex angle at all. Should never have let him think it was a date. Should definitely not have let him touch me like I did.

God, though. I can still feel his fingers. Feel how they brushed across my pussy. Feel how they stroked inside me.

I shiver at the memory.

He was right—I didn’t just come here tonight without panties because I didn’t want panty lines. The truth is I’d been prepared to use any means necessary to get what I wanted, including the old razzle dazzle. Problem was he razzled me first.

I should have been straightforward from the beginning. Hopefully this isn’t too botched to salvage.

I glance at Chase who is studying me, eyes squinted. He hasn’t indicated that he’s ready for me to speak, but fuck that. I have things to say.

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the table. “Look. I’m not a crazy cop stalker, if that’s what you’re thinking. Or someone who’s trying to trap you into a marriage or a relationship or even child support.”

His expression doesn’t change. “You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

“Then what are you thinking?”

The twinkle is back in his eyes, which is a relief. “That you’re a crazy cop stalker who’s trying to trap me into a marriage or a relationship or child support.”

I stifle a laugh. “I’m not. I promise. I don’t want anything from you. Other than the baby, I mean.” And really hot sex. Repeated hot sex.

“You don’t want anything from me,” he repeats, somewhat skeptical.

I clarify. “I want a baby. But no marriage. No relationship. No child support. No parental claim at all.”

He finishes the last of his beer and leans back in his chair. “I still don’t understand.”

He’s a smart guy. So either he’s playing dumb on purpose or he’s caught up on some part of the details.

I decide to make it as simple as possible. Speak the language he speaks best. “It’s easy, Chase. You want to have sex with me.” I feel sensual and strong with my bold statement.

But suddenly I’m afraid I’ve jumped to conclusions and my confidence falters. “You do want to have sex with me, don’t you?”

It’s his turn to look at me as though I’m playing crazy. “Yes, Livia,” he says with wide emphatic eyes. “Yes.” He pauses only a second before adding, “Do I need to make myself clearer? Because I can, but it wouldn’t be appropriate in a public venue.”

I bite my lip, pressing my thighs closer together to ease the newest wave of agony. “I think we’ve already pushed the limits of public decency. But you’re the cop. You’d know better than I would.”

His lip curls up on one side, and I know he’s considering. Damn, what I’d give to have a peek at the naughty imaginings going on inside his mind, because I know they’re naughty from the gleam in his eye. Very naughty.

“Chase…” I warn.

“You’re right, you’re right. Already pushed the limits. Go on.” But the gleam in his eye remains, and I’m giddy knowing that I’m prey, and he’s a predator just biding his time.

“Okay,” I say, my voice barely steady. “So, when you have sex, there are these microscopic things called sperm that come out of a man’s body when he ejaculates.”

“Liv, I know about sperm. But go on ahead and tell me about ejaculation. I’d like to hear what you have to say about that.”

His gaze never leaves mine and I flush picturing his cum in unproductive places—places that won’t make a baby—on my belly, on my breasts, spilling down my throat.

No, inside me. That’s where I want it most.

I lick my lips. “I’m saying you want to put it in me. I’m just asking to keep it afterward.”



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About the Authors:

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USA Today and New York Times Bestselling Author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters.
Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender.
She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio.
She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.

 

Connect with Laurelin Paige:

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Twitter: @LaurelinPaige

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******************

Sierra Simone is a former librarian who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk. She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City.Sierra Simone 

Connect with Sierra:

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Twitter: @TheSierraSimone

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RELEASE BOOST ~ Goaltending by Jami Davenport

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Hot Single Dad ALERT!
Grab Goaltending by Jami Davenport now!


Keep reading for an excerpt!

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WANTED: Single dad needs nanny–In more ways than one.

Martin “Brick” Bricker is living the good life. He’s playing the sport he loves, has all the women he can handle, and parties like a rock star. At twenty-six, he has no interest in slowing down or taking anything seriously–except hockey, of course.

Then a knock at his door changes everything.Suddenly he’s the single father to a five-year-old daughter he didn’t know he had, and he’s trading his playboy ways for Barbies.

Amelia Stacey struggles to make ends meet and juggles her day-care job with a full load of college classes. When she’s offered a temporary, two-week nanny position making more money than she imagines, she jumps at the chance. Before she knows it, she’s in over her head, not just with her five-year-old charge but with the girl’s hot single father.

Brick always goes after what he wants, and he wants Amelia. Only responsible Amelia doesn’t want anything to do with the party boy. Struggling with fatherhood and his unexplainable attraction to his nanny, Brick has to figure out where his daughter and Amelia fit into his life.If they fit at all.

But one thing’s for sure: Brick can’t block this shot straight to his heart.





EXCERPT:

Chapter 1—In the Net

Martin “Brick” Bricker was one lucky bastard. He had it all. Good looks, ripped body, more money than he could spend, and more women than he could handle.

It was good to be him. Really, really good.

Being named sexiest male athlete last week by the Hot Hockey Hunks website was icing on his already rich, gooey cake. And he loved that cake, indulging every chance he got.

Who could blame him? He was young, attractive, and virile. He loved all females, tall and slender, short and curvy, and anything in between. And women loved him.

But Brick’s good fortune didn’t stop there. He was the starting goalie on one of the NHL’s hottest young teams. The Seattle Sockeyes were touted as Stanley Cup contenders by the preseason predictors, whoever the hell those people were. Brick wanted the Cup so badly he imagined the deafening roar of the crowd as the final buzzer rang, the weight of the Cup in his hands as he skated victoriously around the arena, and its sweet metallic taste as he drank champagne from it. He might only be in his fourth year, but he coveted the Cup as much as a guy who’d been in the league for fifteen years and had never won it. He sure as hell didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to win it while he was young—and keep winning it.

With a weary sigh, Brick stretched and rolled out of bed. He squinted at the clock—two in the fucking afternoon.

Damn.

He’d had a wild night last night and had staggered home well after the sun had come up. He’d been gifted with incredible stamina and a hardy constitution that required little sleep but for some reason last night’s activities had hit him harder than usual.

After taking care of business in the bathroom, he walked naked into the kitchen of his large Lake Union condo. He hated clothes, partially because of his propensity to overheat and partially because he enjoyed the shock value. Brick sweltered in warm rooms. They reminded him too much of how hot his stepmother—correct that, father’s second wife—chose to keep their house. The place suffocated him. He’d always preferred the chilly temps of his mom’s cabin in the woods.

Putting a Tully’s K-Cup in his Keurig, he waited for his mug to fill. Taking a sip, he carried it to the wall of windows and stared down at the water below. Houseboats rocked gently on Lake Union, and he had to smile. Ever since he’d seen Sleepless in Seattle, one of his mother’s favorite movies, he’d sworn if he ever moved to Seattle he’d own one of those houseboats. His Realtor had been toiling for months to find the right one. So far, no luck, but Brick was a patient man.

For now, he had to be content with his condo and the privacy it afforded his current lifestyle. He kept his place at arctic temps and never invited women over. He preferred an impersonal hotel room from which he could escape in the early hours, as he’d done this morning. He practically had a room on retainer in the luxury boutique hotel five minutes down the street. He was certainly on a first-name basis with everyone who worked there.

Brick rubbed his eyes, wishing he hadn’t caved to his teammates’ insistence he party with them, but he’d never been one to turn down a chance to raise hell. Staying home was never an option. Brick had a reputation to maintain, and he needed his people, probably more than they needed him. After all, if he wasn’t fun-loving, beer-guzzling Brick, people wouldn’t like him. Even worse, he might have to spend time alone with only himself for company, and he probably wouldn’t like what he found. Better to be the shallow party boy everyone loved than the introspective, serious guy everyone avoided.

The doorbell rang, rescuing Brick from a rare and unwelcome moment of personal reflection. He frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he didn’t encourage uninvited guests. None of his hookups had a clue where he lived, and his teammates rarely visited because of the frigid temps, except Rush. His teammate was from Russia and didn’t notice how chilly Brick kept his condo.

This person couldn’t be his buddy, though. Rush would still be passed out after a night of partying. He needed eight to ten hours of sleep, unlike Brick’s three- to four-hour requirement.

Perplexed, Brick took two steps toward the door and paused. Usually, he had no qualms opening the door bare-ass naked, but some sixth sense stopped him this time.

“Just a minute,” he shouted, and strolled to the master bedroom. He dug around for a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.

Walking back to the entryway, he looked in the peephole and saw nothing. His condo door opened to the outside, rather than into a hallway with a secure entry. That’d never bothered him before. He could handle himself in a fight. Yet something felt off. Those same instincts that alerted him where the puck was when he couldn’t see it clanged warnings in his head.

With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated. Frowning, he glanced around for a weapon. An umbrella leaned against the wall. He grabbed it, then yanked open the door.

Staring into the rainy Seattle afternoon, he saw nothing until he looked down.

A little girl with long dark hair and huge brown eyes like an anime character rested her tiny hands on her hips and stared boldly up at him. He stared back, then glanced around for the mother. Tensing, he expected a gang of home invaders to emerge from the dreariness and force their way into his house. He saw nothing, except an old Toyota barreling out of the private parking area and down the street.

What the fuck?

“Are you lost?” he asked the little girl.

She shook her head, still staring, as if she expected something from him. “Are you Mr. Brick?”

“Yeah,” he said uneasily.

“Daddy!” She launched herself at him, displaying incredible strength for one so small. He staggered back against the wall as she grabbed on to his leg and hugged him tightly. Brick managed to regain his balance and extricated his leg from her tight grip. Placing his hands on her thin shoulders, he held her at arm’s length.

Daddy? A shot of fear stronger than the hundred-proof vodka he’d indulged in last night burned down his throat.

“Where’s your mother?” His uneasy feeling dialed up higher.

“In heaven.” The little girl’s expression flipped from happiness to sadness faster than the flick of a light switch. She picked up a raggedy doll and hugged it to her.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Uh, okay. I’m sorry to hear that. Where do you live?”

She craned her head around him and looked into his house. “With you.”

He felt as though he’d been dropped into the twilight zone. “With me?” he croaked.

“Yes, with you.” She nodded with absolute certainty.

“Uh, I don’t know who put you up to this, but I don’t have any kids.” This had to be a scam to get money out of him. Or one of his teammates had concocted an elaborate joke. Once again, he looked for an adult skulking near the stairs.

“Yes, you do.” She narrowed her eyes and studied him, scowling as if she’d found him lacking. She held out an envelope. It was smudged and wrinkled as if it’d been clutched in her hands for a long time. He stared at it, not wanting to take it and feeling as if the bottom was about to drop out of his charmed life.

She shoved it toward him, and Brick accepted it with a shaking hand. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out a coffee-stained piece of paper.

Mr. Bricker,

I’m dying of cancer, and my granddaughter is all I have left. Her mother has gone to heaven, and that’s on you. I only have a short while left to live. By the time you get this, I’ll be dead. I don’t want Macy in foster care. I have asked a friend to deliver her to your house upon my death.

She is your daughter, and she deserves to have all the things you can afford to give her. Please take care of her and love her. You owe us that.

Sincerely,

Sue

He scowled. This had to be a scam. “How old are you?”

“Five.”

He did the math quickly in his head. He’d been playing on a major junior team in Vancouver, his hometown around the time she’d been conceived, and he hadn’t lacked female companionship.

He thought back six years but couldn’t recall anyone who stood out, not that his lack of memory meant anything. He couldn’t recall the names of the women he slept with last night, either. And he’d spent a lot of his late teens and early twenties in a drunken haze on non-game nights.

He read the letter again, stumbling over the sentence her mother has gone to heaven, and that’s on you. On him? Why would this stranger’s death be on him? Had she been some crazy stalker fan who’d committed suicide? Surely he’d have heard about it. At the least, his agent would’ve told him.

Her accusation probably meant nothing. He was reading too much into it.

He ran his hand through his close-cropped hair and blew out a sigh. He needed to call his attorney and his agent immediately. They’d know what to do.

In the meantime, what the fuck did he do? He didn’t want a kid. They were okay, and he got along fine with them at signings and shit like that, but he wasn’t father material. Thank God, she probably wasn’t his.

Though he had to admit, there was a resemblance, which made his blood run cold. Really cold. She looked like pictures he’d seen of his sister at that age. And those eyes… Damn, those huge eyes could melt the most strongly barricaded heart.

“Uh, why don’t you come in while we straighten this out?”

She nodded and tried to lug a battered suitcase as large as her inside. Brick took it, and she ran ahead of him, dragging the doll by one arm.

She stopped and surveyed the living room. Frowning, she hugged herself and shivered. “You can’t afford heat, either?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“My granna couldn’t afford heat so it was always cold in her house, too.”

“I, uh, can afford heat.” He was at a loss for words.

“I’m cold.” Her lower lip puffed out in an unmistakable pout. She was a demanding little thing.

“I’ll fix that.” Brick hurried to the thermostat before she could do something scarier than shit, like throw a tantrum or, heaven help him, cry. He raised the temp from fifty-five to seventy and also turned on the gas fireplace.

“Thank you.” She sounded so adult, as if she’d lived ten lifetimes in five years. Brick didn’t form connections with people, not real ones, but something about her tugged at a deeply hidden vulnerability he hadn’t known he had.

Walking to the massive stone fireplace on one wall, she sat on the hearth as it flared to life. Brick wiped his brow, overheating already.

“What’s your last name, honey?” he asked, hopeful this could all be cleared up with a few phone calls.

“Bricker, like yours.”

“What about your granna? What was her name?”

“Granna.”

Sighing, he reached for his cell. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Are you going to send me away?”

He froze in midstride. “I—uh—uh—” There went that tug again, harder this time, even a little painful.

“Granna said you would take care of me, but I didn’t believe her. No one wanted me but Granna and Mommy. Now they’re both gone.”

This was getting worse and worse. Brick didn’t need this complication in his footloose-and-fancy-free life. But he couldn’t send the child to foster care. He’d never been in foster care himself, but he’d had friends who were, and he wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.

“I’ll be right back.”

She gazed up at him, clutching her doll to her chest. Tears filled her luminous eyes, and one dribbled down her cheek.

The tug turned into a hard yank.

Oh, crap.

Before he did something stupid, he hurried to the bedroom, dialing his phone as he walked. His agent shared his time between Seattle, where he had a huge number of clients, and sunny California. Just so happened he was in Seattle right now.

“Al,” he said before Al could get one word in.

“Ah, Brick, my man. What’s up?”

“I have a fucking problem.”

“You always have fucking problems. What psycho woman did you piss off now?”

“I wish it were that simple.”

Al started laughing as if he were looking forward to Brick’s pain.

“Get your ass over here. I need you.”

Brick didn’t wait for an answer and hung up. He sank onto the edge of his bed and buried his head in his hands, suddenly feeling much older than his twenty-six years.

* * * *

When Brick returned to his living room, Macy was running around his kitchen island, arms outstretched as she unraveled a roll of paper towels while making barking sounds. She skittered around him, yapping like the obnoxious poodle his aunt Hazel once had. The sound grated on his nerves, which were already frayed.

“Stop.”

She didn’t stop, only raised her voice until the barking neared ear-splitting decibels. He prayed Al showed up soon and rescued him from this particular hell.

The doorbell rang, and he bolted, tripping over the paper towels wrapped around his legs. Macy was one step ahead of him. Right before his eyes she transformed from a one-child wrecking crew to a sweet little princess with a cherubic smile.

She yanked open the door. “Hi,” she shouted in her piercing little-girl voice. “I’m Macy. Do you want to have a tea party with me and Daddy and Simone?” She raised the doll upward in one hand.

Al’s eyebrows shot all the way to his hairline. A slow, devious smirk spread across the bastard’s face. “Daddy?”

“I, uh, uh.”

Al laughed and knelt in front of the little girl. “Hey, honey, I’m Al. I’d love to play with you and Simone, but your daddy and I have a few things to discuss. Do you think you could sit over there like a good little girl and watch TV for a few minutes?”

“Okay.” She skipped to the couch. “How do you turn it on?”

Brick let out a sigh and flipped on his eighty-inch UHD flat screen. He scrolled through the channels until he found a children’s station, then quickly retreated to the relative safety of the kitchen.

“You gotta help me.”

Al grinned a toothy, wholly unsympathetic grin. “You think? I’m your agent, not your babysitter.”

Brick glared at him. “She’s not my child.”

“She thinks she is.” Al was entirely too amused.

“I need your help. I’m desperate. I can’t have a kid here.”

Al chuckled and glanced at Macy, who was singing along to the TV. “Care to explain what’s going on? You were childless when I talked to you yesterday.”

Brick filled him in, ignoring the bastard’s growing amusement. “Here’s the note.”

Al looked it over with a shrewd agent’s eye. “Interesting. Any idea who the mother might be?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” Brick growled, forcing himself to keep his frustration at bay and his voice low.

“It might be an important part of the puzzle.”

“Can’t you find out where she came from? I pay you to clean up my messes.”

“Not enough.” Al threw back his head and laughed.

“This isn’t funny. You gotta help me.” Brick’s gaze was drawn to the little girl sitting on his couch singing to her doll. His gut clenched, and he swiped at his sweaty brow.

“Okay, I’ll get my PI friend on this. Find out any existing relatives. See if I can get a picture of the mother. We’ll run a DNA test, but that’ll take time.” Al switched into troubleshooting agent mode, even though his mouth still twitched with amusement.

“I don’t have time. The regular season is under way. I have a road trip in two days, and I can’t have a kid living here.”

“It’s not like she’s a stray cat you can dump off at an animal shelter.” Al pointed out the obvious and drew a well-deserved scowl from Brick. “And most likely she is yours. She looks like you.”

Brick scowled all the more. “I always wear a condom.”

“Condoms fail.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Brick groaned and dropped his ass onto a dining room chair. He searched his memory, trying to recall any condom malfunctions. Yeah, there had been a few incidents during bouts of rambunctious sex, but he couldn’t begin to remember those women’s faces.

Al sat across from him. “Let’s see what the DNA test says. If she’s not yours, we’ll call Child Protective Services.”

“And if she’s mine?”

His agent’s smirk was downright annoying. “Then welcome to the world of the single dad.”

“What the fuck do I do with her in the meantime?” Brick scrubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He lived a charmed life. Everything always went his way.

“For starters, clean up your language.” Al snorted and leaned back in his chair.

“I can’t take care of a kid. I have a life. I play hockey. I’m gone half the season.”

“Real-world problems, my man. Real-world problems.”

“You’re not helping any.”

“Since when do my duties involve family matters? Be lucky you only have one—so far.”

Brick shuddered. “Don’t say that.”

Al snickered and winked. “Good luck. I’ll call your attorney, make sure housing this child is legal and all.” He stood and headed for the door.

Brick leaped to his feet and followed him. “You can’t leave me like this.”

Al waved at the little girl, completely engrossed in some kid’s show. “Bye, Macy.”

She waved back. “Bye, Uncle Al.”

“Uncle Al?” This kid was making way too many presumptions.

“I like the sound of that.” Al opened the door. “You’d better get cracking. You have a road trip in two days.”

“Where am I going to find a nanny in two days?” Brick groaned. He’d always avoided responsibility outside the rink, and an instant child was way too much responsibility.

“I noticed a day care a few blocks down the street. Ask them.” With those parting words, Al left Brick to fend for himself.

Glancing at the child, Brick considered his options. She smiled at him, and he swallowed around an odd lump. He managed a smile back.

He could dial his mother. She’d know what to do. She’d probably travel from Vancouver tomorrow and take this kid off his hands. His stepfather, Rick, wouldn’t mind. He loved kids. If only his mother had married him while Brick had still been living at home, maybe his teen years wouldn’t have sucked so much.

Brick slunk into the kitchen so Macy couldn’t hear him. “Mom?”

“Hi, honey, how are you?”

“I’m not so good.”

“Oh God, Marty, what did you do now?”

“I didn’t do anything. Not exactly.” He hedged, trying to come up with a way to break this to his mother. He decided on honesty and ran through the entire story. When he finished, silenced reigned.

“Mom?”

“I’m a grandmother?”

He couldn’t tell if she was pleased or pissed. “I’m not sure. We need to do a DNA test.”

“Who leaves a child on a stranger’s doorstep and disappears?” His mother sounded indignant.

“I don’t know. That’s the least of my worries. I need help. I have a road trip coming up. Could you come to Seattle tomorrow and get her?”

Another long silence.

“Mom?” He wasn’t feeling too good about his odds right now.

She blew out a long-suffering sigh only his mother could produce. “It pains me to say this, but no.”

“What?” Surely he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“You heard me, young man. Did you forget Rick and I are leaving in a few hours for a month and a half in Europe?”

“Uh, yeah.” He hated to admit he’d forgotten. He’d been so focused on his surprise, he’d spaced on their trip.

She sighed. “You’re not the only person in this world with plans, Marty.” As if he hadn’t heard that before.

“I know.”

“I agree. With your schedule and not having a wife or steady girlfriend, it’d be next to impossible to raise a young child. Let me discuss this with Rick, and we’ll see what we can do when we get back, assuming she’s yours. This problem is your responsibility for now.” Leave it to his mother to be pragmatic about the situation.

“But—”

“I have to go now. I’ll call you in a few days and see how you’re doing. I can’t wait to see my granddaughter when we get back.” The phone went dead.

Brick felt a tug on his sweats.

“I’m hungry.” The little girl looked up at him with the biggest, most innocent cocker spaniel eyes, and who could resist a cocker spaniel? His hardened heart cracked a little, and he shored it up with mental duct tape. He wouldn’t fall prey to this child. She couldn’t stay with him.

He tried another number. His sister would help. All he had to do was text her a picture, and she’d fall in love, as she did with every stray animal.

Nona answered. “Hey, Brick, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“How’s my favorite sister?”

“I’m your only sister. What’s up?”

“Just called to see how you were.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He was guilty as charged of calling his sister only when he needed something. Brick pulled out all the stops. “Ah, Nona, seriously. What’s wrong with me wanting to have a conversation with my sister?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it other than you never call me just to talk, so fess up, Marty.”

Brick groaned. “Okay, I admit it. I need your help. Desperately.”

“Oh, really.” He could hear her devious wheels turning as she calculated what he might possibly be calling for and how she could use it to her advantage in their friendly, ongoing sibling rivalry.

“Yeah, really,” he said gloomily.

“Daddy, can I have some milk?” The little urchin stared up at him with pleading eyes.

“Daddy? Did I hear that right?” His sister’s voice came through loud and clear, as did the restrained laughter. “Is that your problem?”

“Yeah, found her on my doorstep this afternoon.”

“Are you kidding?”

Brick made his way to the refrigerator and poured Macy a glass of milk. She thanked him and returned to her TV. Certain she was occupied, he relayed the story to his sister, who was dying of laughter by the time he’d finished. Why people found his predicament so hilariously funny was beyond him.

“And what do you expect me to do?”

“Come and get her. I have a road trip in two days.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re the one who can’t keep it in your pants. Welcome to adulthood, baby brother. I’m in graduate school. I don’t have time for a child. And Mom’s leaving on her trip.”

“I know,” he answered grumpily.

Nona erupted with more laughter. The women in his family had no appreciation for the dilemma he was in. “You could always call Dad and Liz. You know how touchy-feely our beloved stepmother is.”

Brick shuddered. He knew all right. The woman could melt a hole in an ice rink with one glare. As desperate as he was, he’d never subject a child—any child—to that cold, calculating bitch.

“Never mind. I’ll deal with this myself.” He sighed and disconnected the phone, his sister’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

Macy yawned, and Brick realized with a guilty start she’d probably had a long, tiring day, even though it was early evening.

“Time for bed.”

“I don’t want to go to bed.” She screwed her face up into a nasty scowl worthy of Ice, the Sockeyes’ surly defenseman.

“Sorry, but you need some rest.” He was so not cut out for this parenting shit. He could leave her to her own devices. He was tired, even if she wasn’t. He must be getting old. Partying all night never used to wear him out, but last night’s binge had taken a toll.

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her little chin. Her belligerence wore on his patience.

“Please, Macy, it’s been a long day for both of us.”

They stared each other down, but she was out of her league. He could stare down the best of them.

Finally, she looked away and stuck out her lower lip, which quivered. “Okay.”

Brick didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. He grabbed the suitcase and led her to the guest room. He showed her the adjoining bathroom.

She stood near the bed and rubbed her eyes. Her attitude had dissipated, leaving a scared little girl so alone in the cold, cruel world.

Brick stood in the doorway, praying she didn’t cry. “Do you need help getting ready for bed?”

She shoved her knuckles in her mouth and shook her head.

“Okay, well then, good night.” Drawn by emotions he couldn’t begin to explain, Brick crossed the room, knelt down, and gave her a hug. Her little arms went stiffly around his neck. He blinked several times, finding his eyesight a little blurry.

Sitting back on his haunches, he held her shoulders. “It’ll all be okay. I promise.”

She sniffed and nodded, gazing at him with disbelieving brown eyes. Not liking how close to the surface his own feelings were, he rose to his feet.

“Good night.” Her little voice wavered, and Brick got the hell out of there. He turned down the heat, stripped off his clothes, and crawled into bed. He sank into the welcoming mattress and closed his eyes. Only sleep didn’t come.

He was an asshole. A big asshole. Instead of comforting this scared child who’d been abandoned on his doorstep, he’d run like a coward. Sure, he’d hugged her, but he could’ve done more.

Brick stared into the darkness for God knew how long. Finally, he got out of bed, threw on a robe, and walked down the hall to the guest bedroom. He listened at the door and heard nothing. Cracking it open, he peeked inside. Macy lay under the covers, her doll clutched tightly to her. Her eyes were shut.

He walked closer and stared down at the cherubic face. She was a pretty little thing and would be a beauty by her teens, requiring her father to sit on the front porch with a shotgun to scare off the boys. He shuddered at the thought, not because he’d pictured himself hefting that gun, but because he knew what teenage boys were capable of.

He reached down and brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. Tenderness welled up in his chest, leaving him momentarily incapacitated. When she’d thrown her arms around him and called him Daddy, he’d lost his sanity for a split second and almost wished it were true. But it wasn’t, and he wasn’t fit to be any child’s father.

Brick backed away, fighting a surprising paternal urge to care for and protect this child.

What the fuck was wrong with him?


GOALTENDING_TEASER3n.jpg


About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author Jami Davenport writes sexy contemporary and sports romances, including her two new indie endeavors: the Game On in Seattle Series and the Madrona Island Series. Jami’s new releases consistently rank in the top fifty on the sports romance and sports genre lists on Amazon, and she has hit the Amazon top hundred authors list in both contemporary romance and genre fiction multiple times. Jami ranked Number Seven on Kobo’s Top Ten Most Completed Authors, an honor bestowed on the year’s “most engaging” authors based on an average page completion rate by their readers.

Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her Green Beret-turned-plumber husband, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.

Jami works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. She’s a lifetime Seahawks and Mariners fan and is waiting for the day professional hockey comes to Seattle. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, a common setting in her books. In her opinion, it’s the most beautiful place on earth.

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NEW RELEASE ~ Heated Sweets (A Taste of Love Series #3) by A.M. Willard

Heated Sweets
(A Taste of Love Series #3)
Author: A.M. Willard

Cover Design: MadHat Books

Now Available

Synopsis

Do you believe someone can change your whole perspective on life? I didn’t, but I do now…

It all happens when I meet my sexy neighbor, Evan Taylor.

My name’s Francesca, better known as Frankie, and I’ve been hiding behind my camera for years. It’s what I know and love- not to mention the best way to disguise myself. It’s easy to make life look perfect from this side, even when yours is in shambles. My chronic illness is my biggest insecurity, and what I not only hide from myself, but from the world. Good thing I have a group of friends who can supply me with massive overloads of cupcakes, or life would totally stink.

Brody’s always been my crutch, but I knew deep down that he wouldn’t be the one I’d end up with. We just had to find a way to let the past go as we moved forward with our search of happiness. He’ll always be my hero, but sometimes in life you need more than a cape.

Evan Taylor is exciting, and doesn’t expect me to give him the world. He accepts me for who I am with no additional pressure. Evan’s also the one who can offer me the one thing I think I can’t give him – life. With the passion and desire that we hold for each other–it might be enough to win in the end and come out from behind the camera.

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Other Books in the Series

Frosted Sweets Volume 1

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Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/22yzIUs

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Sugary Sweets Volume 2

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Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2bnHDjd

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2b6eewh

Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2pn5Dxn


About the Author

Bestselling Author, A.M. Willard resides in Savannah, Georgia. She joined the Peach State many years ago after leaving the crystal blue waters and sugary white sand behind from the Panhandle of Florida. She’s also known for being a wife, mother, and caretaker for her farm animals. A.M. loves anything sassy, glittery, and is a sucker for the Hallmark Channel. That last one might be the reason she believes in soulmates or it could be because she married her high school sweetheart almost twenty years ago.

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LYNN A REYNOLDS. This site is for those readers 18 years old +.

Living with Cats

Just another WordPress.com weblog

IRC 2014 - Indie Romance Convention

Serving Indie press, Small press and Hybrid press Romance Authors

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