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COVER REVEAL ~ Stripped Raw by Prescott Lane
We are super excited to share the cover reveal of
Prescott Lane’s next book Stripped Raw.
Kenzie
I’m a yes girl. Get your mind out of the gutter; I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about saying yes to whatever comes my way in life. So when I had the chance to move to Europe after college, I said, yes. When I had the chance to open my own lingerie line, I said, yes. And when my stepsister got diagnosed with cancer and needed me to come home and help her raise her daughter, I said, yes. That’s me, Kenzie — the yes girl! In every area of my life but one —Love. Always the first to leave a relationship. Will I be able to say yes to love — to Kane — to being happy? Or will I simply come undone and be stripped raw?
Kane
Don’t let Kenzie fool you! She’s a master at hiding behind a laugh and a smile. Being an attorney, I prefer the facts. This story isn’t as light and happy as my yes girl would have you believe. No laugh can sugar coat what we are facing: I’ve lost everything. I know what it’s like to be left raw. But sometimes that’s the only way to find love. To strip yourself down, let the other person see all your shit, and hope they love you anyway.
“I’m the good girl, very responsible, girl-next-door type.”
Should I tell her I took the virginity of the girl next door? Probably not. “I think you’re more than that,” I say, taking a step closer to her. That wasn’t a line. I really mean it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so.
I inch even closer, but she looks confused — a little like she wants me to kiss her, a little like she wants me to screw her, but mostly like she doesn’t want me to do anything more. I can’t blame her; we only met a few hours ago. Deacon is wrong about the one night stand thing. This woman isn’t looking for a hookup. I’m not, either. One night with her wouldn’t be enough. So I take a step back, my fists clenched at my sides to redirect my energy.
“That was my first catalog,” Kenzie says. “I plan on doing two a year.” She reaches for a sketchbook on her work table. “This is what I’m working on for the next line. I’ll be photographing them pretty soon. The line is inspired by men’s clothing, so pinstripes and. . . .”
She keeps talking about the different fabrics, colors, and textures she plans to use. I have no idea what she is saying, but marvel over what I’m seeing — corsets and bustiers, vests with garter belts, bras, and G-strings. I love that these ideas, these fantasies, came out of her mind. She is so much more than she thinks, so much more than the girl next door.
Kenzie flips to another sketch, this one of a navy bra and panty set with stockings and heels. That will look perfect on her — especially bent over my office desk. My cock throbbing, I take a deep breath and try to focus on what Kenzie is saying. My eyes search the catalog pages for anything to distract me. “What’s this?”
“Cuffs,” she says, “like on a man’s dress shirt. But these double as handcuffs.”
Okay, that’s it. The arts-and-crafts show is officially driving me crazy. My dick is rock hard now, and I can’t take it anymore.
Prescott Lane is the author of First Position, Perfectly Broken, and her new release, Quiet Angel. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College with a degree in sociology. She went on to receive her MSW from Tulane University, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren’t enough happily ever afters in real life.
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RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ F*ck Of The Irish by Celia Aaron
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Eamon is my crush, the one guy I can’t stop thinking about.
His Irish accent, toned body, and sparkling eyes captivated me the second I saw him.
But since he slept with my roommate, who claims she still loves him, he’s been off limits.
Despite my prohibition on dating him, he has other ideas.
Resisting him is the key to keeping my roommate happy, but giving in may bring me more pleasure than I ever imagined.
I sipped my drink as he took a long swig of his beer. He came away with a foam mustache, and I had the craziest impulse to lick it. I smiled and stifled my laugh.
“What?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Something on my face, love?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not a thing?”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. Everything is totally normal.”
He took another swig, even more foam collecting on his upper lip.
“How about now?”
I giggled. “Perfectly fine. I see nothing amiss.”
He leaned in, the beer a mix of sweet and rich on his breath. “Care for a taste?”
My heart leapt into my throat and I stared into his eyes, the blue even deeper in the dimness of the bar.
He pulled me closer, his fingertips pressing into my shoulder. Before I could back away, his mouth was on mine, his lips firm and warm. I clutched his shirt as he pushed me into the wall, caging me with his muscular body. My breath was gone, stolen by him as he licked along the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. He slid a hand down to my lower back and pulled me against him, pressing my breasts hard into his chest. I gasped at the friction on my nipples and he plunged his tongue into me.
I moaned into his mouth, and he growled a low response. His tongue mastered mine, and he eclipsed any thoughts I may have had about propriety or people watching. There was only him, his mouth, his body, the heat he stoked inside me.
Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.
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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Bear Bites by Ruby Dixon
SHIFT OUT OF LUCK
There are few things that are off limits to the were-bears of Pine Falls, but humans are one of them. Which is a real pain, because I’ve had it bad for curvy Adelaide Laurent ever since she sashayed into town. The fact that she’s forbidden fruit just makes my fantasies all the sweeter.
But when she signs up to go on a weekend camping trip with the town’s biggest player, it’s time for a bear to step in and claim his mate.
I don’t care if it breaks the rules. She’s mine, and it’s time she knew it.
SHIFT JUST GOT REAL
Life’s given me the short end of the stick on looks – I’m big, ugly and brutish. Normally I wouldn’t care about the packaging except for the fact that the woman of my dreams is Ryann Brown, a human half my age and so lovely she makes my body ache. What’s a were-bear to do in this situation?
Whatever he can to forget her, of course.
Except Ryann’s not taking no for an answer. And when she catches me watching her one night, she gives me a show I’ll never forget. Did I think I’d be able to walk away and not touch her? Not claim what’s mine?
Not a chance.
GET YOUR SHIFT TOGETHER
I’ve been looking for a mate in all the wrong places. When the right one shows up in Pine Falls with a man in tow, I almost miss her. Caroline Abbott is a sweetheart of a city girl who is making one last stab at keeping her (dead) relationship together. When her fool of an ex takes off and leaves her alone in the forest, I’m more than happy to step into his abandoned shoes.
While I can make her shout with pleasure, I worry those screams will turn to fear when she realizes that my hidden half is a bear.
I can’t keep the secret much longer, but telling her might scare her off for good.
DOES A BEAR SHIFT IN THE WOODS
I’m a loner for a reason. I don’t have much in the way of social skills. I’d rather sit on my deck and watch the sunset than hit a tavern with coworkers. My idea of grooming is to trim my beard with a straight blade when it hits my collarbone. I can’t put two words together in the company of a pretty woman…and they don’t come much prettier than wolf-shifter Madison Thorne.
She’s everything I’m not—outgoing, easy on the eyes, and sweet. There’s no way I’m convincing her to come home with me. Fortunately I don’t have to. Maddie seems to like my gruff, unpolished self. At least, she likes me enough for one night.
The problem is getting her to stay forever.
DOES A BEAR SHIFT IN THE WOODS
I swipe a hand across my mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Maddie Thorne. You should be in town or with one of the Millers but fuck if I’m going to take you there. Now get your pretty ass over here.”
She hops to, submissive to her core. I’ve heard about wolves like her. They want to be ordered around. It makes them feel wanted, appreciated. And if you don’t work them with a firm hand, then they don’t respect you.
If I’m going to have Maddie more than once, I’ll have to show her that I understand her peculiar needs. And I’m going to want to have her again and again. Once isn’t going to be enough. I don’t even need to taste her to know that I want to keep her. Maybe not as my mate. No, not a mate, but I can’t see myself letting her go in the near future. Or the far future.
I lick my lips. The urge to feast on her body is almost too strong to resist. But I know I have to wait even if it kills me.
“Come on inside.” I beckon for her to join me.
“This is a big shower.”
“I’m a big man.”
Her eyes fall to my cock that’s pointing straight up in the air.
“Yes, you are,” she says in full appreciation.
My cock jumps toward her, seeking her wet heat. I grab my junk and pull down hard. This is about Maddie’s needs. Not mine.
“Shampoo,” I manage to grunt out. “Wash me.”
I take a seat before I fall down and keep a painful grip on my cock as Maddie pours shampoo into her hand and begins to lather me up. Her fingers dig into my scalp, and her lush tits press against my head. Sometimes I feel a nipple against my neck or shoulder. It’s a goddamn tease, a fucking torture. But I bear it so she knows that I can be in control no matter what she does.
It’s the hardest test I’ve ever endured.
When she moves to the front and stands between my legs, I nearly spurt all over her creamy skin. I bite down on the inside of my mouth hard enough that the tangy taste of copper spreads across my tongue. The blood and pain are just enough to keep the edge off as she commences petting my beard.
“Your hair is a lot softer than I thought it would be,” she comments almost absent-mindedly as she scrapes her fingernails across my jawline.
A moan builds in my throat, and my breath turns choppy and harsh as I fight for control. Her pussy, slick from her arousal, from the water, from the soap, slides across the top of my fist. She’s trying to break me, but it’s not happening.
“You done yet?” I ask, my tone harsh and angry.
“Almost.” There’s a tease in her voice that tells me that she could do this all night. It’s time to up the game.
“You’re done,” I tell her. I surge to my feet and grab a wet hank of her hair. I tug hard until the long column of her neck is exposed. “I was going to let you suck my cock, but you were a bad girl, trying to tease me like that. You were trying to make me come, weren’t you?”
She returns my hard stare with a bright, mischievous one of her own. “I was just washing you like you had ordered.”
I shake my head. “That kind of sass is going to earn you more lashes.” I whip her around to face the tile. “Hands up on the tile. You do not move for any reason. Hear me?”
She nods.
“Use your words, babe.”
“Yes. No moving until you tell me to.”
“Good girl.” I give her a light slap on the ass and then kneel down between her legs. In this position, I can see every inch of her sweet pussy, from her swollen lips to her eager little clit. The puckered skin around her ass tempts me just as much. One day soon, I’m going to take her there. But for now? Now I’m going to eat her like I’m a starving man and she’s my first meal.
Ruby Dixon is the seekrit pen name of a NYT and USA Today Bestselling Author.
Under Ruby, she writes naughty, fun stories about sexy bikers and aliens.
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BLOG TOUR ~ Caught For Christmas by Skye Warren
I’ll be home for Christmas…
The plan is simple. Break into the club and steal the money I need to save my father. The ex-military bouncer isn’t going to stop me, even if he is hot as hell.
If only in my dreams…
Except he has a curious knack for knowing my next step.
And there’s something dark underneath his desire, something dangerous. If he catches me, he might not let me go.
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Other books in the series
Love the way you Lie
(Stripped #1)
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Better when it Hurts
(Stripped #2)
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Pretty When You Cry
(Stripped #3)
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A hand lands on my shoulder.
My heart knocks against my ribs, and I whirl to face my attacker. There are a lot of people who might have followed me in here. The guy whose wallet I stole. Or just some random asshole who wants to take what I won’t give him. I’m prepared for a fight.
I’m not prepared for West.
His dark skin blends into the shadows, highlighting his eyes and the white of his teeth when he speaks. “What the fuck, Bianca?”
His shock mirrors mine. How did he follow me without me noticing? He must have kept pace from the club. I’m losing my touch, and at the worst possible time. “Can I help you?” I say coolly, stalling for time.
He rolls his eyes and reaches for me. I have a second’s panic as his hand comes closer—is he going to hurt me? Is he going to touch me? Then his long fingers pluck the thin wad of cash from my bustier. He holds it up to the faint light. Somehow he managed to do that almost without touching my skin.
That can’t be disappointment I feel, can it?
“Stealing,” he says flatly.
I hate the judgment in his tone, the censure. “What’s it to you?”
“Why do you need this?” he counters. “I know what dancers make at the Grand. And I know where you live. You can afford better than that.”
My eyes narrow. “How the hell do you know where I live?”
“I’ve read the security profiles on all employees at the Grand,” he answers smoothly. Which isn’t a bad excuse, since the security company does pretty intense workups. He ruins the innocent act by adding, “I’ve also followed you home a couple times.”
It bothers me that he followed me home, but it bothers me way more that I didn’t notice. “Looking for a little side action? I didn’t know you were into that, Boy Scout.”
West is a bouncer at the Grand, the club where I work. The girls call him Boy Scout because he never looks at us wrong, never asks for a private dance. He’s a total gentleman, and exactly the kind of trouble I don’t need.
“I’m worried about you,” he says, his voice strangely honest, the kind of earnest I almost didn’t know existed until I met him. He’s naive, right? Way too gullible. I just hate how it makes my heart tug.
“Don’t be,” I tell him, snatching the wad of cash from his hand. “I can take care of myself.”
He leans back just a fraction, and I get the feeling he’s inspecting me. Whatever he sees, I doubt he’s impressed. He works for Candy, who owns the Grand after Ivan gave it to her, and she has a gorgeous body. Hell, all the dancers have gorgeous bodies.
Meanwhile I’m too tired, too thin. Months of ramen noodles will do that to a girl. I can keep dancing, though, keep moving—muscle memory and all that. The same way I stole that wallet.
“Let me take you to dinner,” he says.
My heart gives another kick, and I know this time it isn’t from fear. I nod toward the blue-glow horizon, skyscrapers like snow-capped mountains. It’s already morning. “A little late for that.”
“I’m still hungry,” he says, his voice low—and seductive? I’m not sure what makes me think that, except that I’m feeling a little seduced. The wetness in dark places has nothing to do with windswept rain.
And that makes him dangerous. “No, thanks.”
He pauses, not seeming particularly let down. He seems thoughtful instead—as if I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. “I know this great little Italian place. They stay open late as long as there’s customers. And there’s always customers.”
Italian, huh? I bet they have lots of things that are cheesy and hot and—
Damn it, no.
“They bring you a basket of garlic bread to start,” he continues like a goddamn sex-phone operator, and I’m paying by the minute. And why shouldn’t I listen? I put on a show every night. “Fresh from the oven, with the butter browned around the crust. Sometimes I can get full just off the bread, but that’s a shame.”
My mouth is completely dry. “It is?”
“It is, because the fried calamari is the best I’ve ever had. Crispy and salty. You’ll be licking your fingers afterward. I know I will.”
A sound escapes me, something like a moan. I’m too damn hungry to be embarrassed about it. “Then what?”
“Well, that’s just the appetizer. For the main course there’s so much to choose from. I’ve been there so many times but I don’t think I’ve tried them all. There’s the lasagna with the filling that’s so creamy one forkful will fill you up. Then there’s the Tuscan filet, cooked to order. But I think the best dish I’ve had there—”
My mouth isn’t dry anymore. It’s watering. I’m literally salivating at what he’s describing, and he knows it. How does he know this about me? Why does he care? The cash slips from my fingers and falls to the damp alley ground, and I don’t even care. I don’t want the cash. I don’t want to be a thief. I just want him to take me on a date to this place and never let it end.
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance such as Wanderlust and Prisoner. Praised as a “true mistress of dark erotica”, her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Houston, Texas, with her loving family, three dogs, and one evil cat.
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