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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Right For Love by Aria Cole

 

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Love is only a swipe away…

Pre-med student Carly Samuelson doesn’t have time for things like swoony Valentine’s dates, so when her best friend downloads a dating app to get Carly lucky, her expectations are low. But when her friend swipes right on tall, dark, and dashing Thorn Cartwright, Carly walks into something she never expected—Thorn’s got a proposition: one night, one dress, him and her. But can one swipe right really lead to love?

 


ONE

 

Carly
   “Girl.” My best friend leveled me with serious eyes, one hand holding a lock of blond hair that was wrapped around a searing hot curling wand above her head. “You need to get some action before those bits turn to dust.”
   I burst out in a laugh. “My vagina will just incinerate and float away, huh?”
   “What do they say…” She tipped her head to the side. “If you don’t use it, you lose it?”
   I shook my head, watching as she unrolled the curl and let it bounce into a perfect ringlet as she got ready for her Valentine’s Day date tonight. Lord knows with whom this time. Saying Selma was a free agent was putting it lightly.  
   “I’m too busy for the kind of trouble you get up to at all hours of the night,” I finally answered. “You know, someday all of that natural beauty—” She wagged a finger at my face “—is going to crack. That young virginal thing you got going on won’t last forever. Why you wasting all your youth with your head in a textbook? You have to live, Carly!”  
   I crossed my arms, thinking it was moments like these that made me both love and despise Selma for her natural, dark-eyed beauty and that effortless attitude she lived her life with.
   “I’m not like you.” I finally shook my head. “I don’t do well with strangers or in groups or in public places on holidays…really, anywhere with people. I just don’t do well with people.”
   “Bullshit.” Selma dropped another curl, twisting it softly then setting the wand on the counter. “Anyone can date now, no more awkward first dates or getting-to-know-you conversations. I downloaded this dating app. You just swipe right if the guy is a hottie, left if he looks like a douchenozzle. Welcome to dating in the modern world.”
   “A dating app? You downloaded a dating app?”
   “You know I like to spice things up in my life.”
   I huffed, a little incredulous. I thought online dating was for nerds… Well, I guess I was technically a nerd, considering all I did was go to class, study, sleep, repeat. While Selma was partying the night away at clubs, kissing strange, sexy men, I was up late in a college sweatshirt and pajama pants, poring over anatomy books. With just one more year to go in my biology degree, the end was in sight. All the hard work of the last few years would finally pay off with a diploma and a set of skills that could allow me to get a job at any doctor’s office around the country as a physician’s assistant. The coursework had been brutal—I’d known it would be—but I was too far in to throw it away now, even if my grades were at the top of my class.  
   “I’m not using a dating app. I can’t even think about dating right now.”
   “It’s not dating, exactly…” Selma pushed me in front of the mirror and picked up the wand, twisting a lock of my hair in her fingers and wrapping it around the barrel of the wand. “It’s more like…hookups.”
   “Hookups.” I scrunched my nose, catching her eyes in the mirror.  
   “Yeah, you know, burn off some steam. Sex releases anti-stress chemicals to your brain, you know, and people who have an orgasm within thirty minutes of having a test perform up to five points higher. Five points! You need to fuck off some steam, Carly.”
   “Oh my God.” I covered my face with one hand as she continued to curl random sections of my hair.  
   “I mean it. When’s the last time you got any play at all?” She twirled a soft lock at my face, adding a wave until it lay nicely with the rest.  
   “Uh…” I paused, pushing back through old dusty cobwebs to the last time I’d even let a man kiss me. “Freshman year, maybe?”
   “Oh my God. You’re practically a born-again virgin. We need to get you that app.” Selma set the wand down on the counter. “Finished.”
   I glanced up, shocked she’d curled my entire head of hair and was now separating the ringlets until they were only softly defined and falling over one shoulder.  
   “Your hair looks too good to waste.” Selma swiped my phone and held it up. “Smile, and give me that look in your eye.”
   “What look?”
   “That one that says you’re really horny but still a good girl.”
   I narrowed my eyes.  
   “No, that looks like you might swipe their wallet when they’re finished. Softer. Less murder-y, more seductive.”
    “Selma!” I squealed, swiping the camera just as the flash went off.
    “Wait, let me see. That was a good one!” Selma pulled the phone from my hand, swiping to the last picture taken. “Look.” She thrust the picture into my face. “You look fucking hot. Let’s find you a man tonight.”
   “No, Selma.” My asshole friend spun, my phone in hand, and shuffled out the bathroom door, her fingers tapping a hundred words a second as she went. “Selma!”  
   She stopped dead in her tracks, turned to me in the middle of my studio apartment kitchen, and handed me the phone. “There.”
   Her smile was big. I wanted to bitch-slap it off her face.  
   “What did you do?”
   “Created your account, uploaded that pic. Now you’re ready to swipe your way to a lay, baby.”
   “Jesus, Selma. Why are we friends?”
   “Probably because I challenge your very boring and predictable nature.” She twirled a fresh curl at my temple. “And you love me.”
   I only grunted in reply, my eyes focused on the screen, the first handsome candidate to show up on my phone. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
   “Swipe left. He looks like a businessman wannabe.”
   “Wannabe? What are you, an expert at typing men on this thing?”
   “Swipe enough.” She shrugged, peering over my shoulder to glance at the next potential date.  
   “Ew!” We both swiped left, clearing the older gentleman with the overgrown mustache off our screen.  
   “He’s not bad.” Selma paused on the third, tilting her head. “If you squint.”
   I groaned, swiping left. Then left. Then another left.  
   “I’ve learned one thing from this app tonight,” I said.
    “What’s that?” Selma was swiping left for me, the frown growing deeper with every swipe.  
   “That we’re surrounded by a million really creepy guys. It’s no wonder I haven’t found a date in ages.”
   Selma nodded, taking in my words. “Maybe it’s time I move. When I visited my cousin in Denver, you should have seen the hot guys. Like, h-o-double-t hot.”
   “Well, I’m deleting it. All that’s on here is mountain men and college guys looking to score more action. Not interested.”  
   “Wait, what about him?” She paused, thumb hovering over the handsome face lit with a one-sided cocky smile. His eyes were a clear shade of ocean blue, hair dark and a little mussed, with a dark smattering of sexy five-o’clock shadow across his angled jaw.  
   “Nuh-uh. He’s married.”  
   “What? No way! What makes you say that?” Selma squinted, as if trying to read the signals through the screen.  
   “Because no man that beautiful is still on the market at his age.”
   “His age? He’s like thirty-five, tops,” she scoffed.  
   “Exactly. Married, divorced with kids, something.”
   “Well, okay, then. What do you care? This is just a hookup anyway, remember? Not like you have to worry about him proposing on the first date or anything.”
   “Selma…” I groaned, ready to swipe left on his gorgeous, smug ass.  
   “Nope.” Selma slid her thumb across my screen, swiping right. “Got him.”
   She grinned up at me triumphantly.  
   “Oh my God, what are you doing!” I wiped left, left, up, across. “Where are the settings? Can I undo that right swipe?”
   She laughed, walking back down the hall to the bathroom. “Nope. No undoing!”  
   I followed quickly on her heels, stopping right next to her in front of her post at the bathroom mirror. Just then, the little app chimed in my hand. An alert popped up that said a match was made.  
   Oh, shit.  
   “Oh, you are such an asshole, Selma Martinez.”
   “You got a match! That means he likes you, too.” She nodded, taking every second of this painfully embarrassing moment in stride.  
   “That wasn’t even a good picture of me! I hate you.”
   “Or you could say thank you.” She winked. “Now send that boy a message.”
   “What? No way. I’m not interested. Maybe you should go out with him.”
   “Nah, I’ll take one for the team. Your vag needs some love, and I think Mr. Sex right there is going to give it to you.”
   “I’m not going.”
   “You’re an idiot if you don’t.”
   I nearly replied that she was an idiot for even downloading the app when another chime popped up.
    New message alert.  
   “Oh Jesus.”
   “Ooh, he’s really into you.” Selma snatched the phone from my hands and opened the message.  
   “Wait! Don’t answer it!”
   “Too late, it already shows him that I’ve seen it—or you’ve seen it.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “It says, Would love to meet tonight. I’ll just reply…” She started tapping at warp speed.  
   “No! No!” I yanked my phone from her. “Don’t reply.”  
   “Well, you have to. Otherwise, that would just be rude.”
   “Rude. Like I care if I’m rude to a stranger, Selma!” I couldn’t contain the shrieky frustration lacing my voice.
    “Well, I just wasn’t raised that way, stranger or not.”
    I shook my head, finding myself again stupefied by all things Selma. “You’re unbelievable.”
   She caught my eye in the mirror, refusing to say a word. I narrowed my eyes, taking in the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her eyes flared with simmering irritation.  
   “Fine. I’ll answer him. I’ll tell him he was a mistake swipe or something.”
   “What? You can’t say that.”
   “Why not?” There were too many rules for online dating, exactly the reason it was better I’d avoided it.  
    “Way to kick a guy when he’s down. No, I would not like to see you tonight. Actually, I think you’re a dog and wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. Have a nice night!”  
   “Well, I wouldn’t be that harsh.”
   Selma shook her head, finishing one last curl in her hair before placing the wand on the counter and unplugging it. She spun, pushing fingers through her hair until the curls bounced and bobbed with enviable volume. “Tell him the truth—you’re a busy college student with a very large stick up your ass.”
   “And with a nosy friend who doesn’t know how to keep her hands off other people’s property,” I chimed in.  
   “Sounds about right. Listen, chica…” Selma paused, catching her reflection in the mirror and adjusting her boobs in the cups of her bra to get more oomph. Her word. Not mine. “I’ve got to meet Pratt outside in twenty minutes. I hope you give yourself a break tonight. You deserve it. Give that vag a little workout, and you’ll feel better in the morning.” She spritzed some of my perfume in a cloud around her. “I’ll call you later when I get home…or in the morning.” She paused. “It probably won’t be until the morning.” She winked, then placed a kiss on my cheek. “Let loose tonight, Carly. God knows you need it.”
   She turned, blowing me one last kiss before sauntering out of my apartment in her chunky, laced boots and skirt.  
   I glanced back down at my phone, then to the puppy pajamas that fell to the tops of my bare feet.  
   I sighed.  
   I did need some fun.  
   I was ready for a life outside of textbooks and professors and exams and essays.  
   I hovered over the keyboard, not knowing what in the hell to say before I typed quickly.  
   Sure. Where and when?
   Before I could think twice, I hit send.
   Maybe Selma was right. If I didn’t use it, I would lose it. Perhaps not so much my vag but my sexuality, my sense of self, my free spirit.  
   I grinned, shutting down the app and tossing it on the bed, not caring if the handsome guy with the cocky smile ever replied or not. I was having fun making the butterflies in my stomach jump all on my own.



Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.
For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

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NEW RELEASE ~ His Girl by Aria Cole

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Hawk Larson left small-town Indiana to become one of the most famous quarterbacks on the planet, throwing winning passes for the Bears and living the dream. Life looked picture-perfect from the outside, but after five years, he still can’t shake the memory of the one thing he left behind…the girl who owned his heart and crushed it one fateful night.
After an injury benches Hawk for good, he returns to the town he left, confronting the past and running headfirst into an unexpected future.
Life hasn’t been easy in the five years since he left, and Morgan Quinn isn’t the same girl she once was,her luscious hourglass curves and stubborn streak the only reminders of everything he left behind. She still rattles him to the core and leaves him craving more, but Morgan has a secret. A secret that may change the game for good.
 
Warning: When Hawk finally sees his Morgan again, he isn’t sure if it’s love or hate he’s feeling, until fireworks fly at first touch and passion overcomes reason, leaving Hawk with the realization that he must protect his girl at all costs
  


 

 
 
 Never thought I’d have you in my arms again, I growled at her ear before  kicking my door closed and pushing her against it. Never thought I’d have my  hands on your skin again. My lips on your body, my tongue tasting every inch of you.
  
  Her breath came out in ragged gasps, the pulse hammering at her throat  matching mine.
  I pushed her arms above her head, locking them with my hand, and trailed a  nose down the inside of her arm. She shivered, gasping for air, her hips grinding  against my cock like she was begging for it.
  Tell me, tell me how much you fucking missed this cock inside you.
 
  She grunted, eyes slammed closed as her tits heaved in my face.
  I latched on to the outline of one nipple, sucking and nipping, making her hum  with pain before letting go.
  Say it. I want to hear you say how many nights you dreamed about my cock  slipping inside you, taking your breath away, making you beg for more.
 
  Yes… Fuck, yes… Is that what you want to hear? Yes, I dreamed about you, Hawk. I dreamed about this. She hummed, eyes still averted.
  Fuck that.
 
  I need your eyes on me for this, baby girl. I tipped her chin to mine, her eyes  slamming open. Daddy’s here now. I’m here, and I’ve got you, I groaned at her  ear, holding her chin in my hand. My cock dug into her stomach, aching for the  searing hot feel of her pussy. I never forgot this.
 
  My lips covered hers in a kiss that branded. A kiss that showed her that I still owned this, I owned her, and every pleasurable sigh she ever had or ever would have.
   
  We’re not young anymore, Morgan. I was a boy then, but I’m a man now. I  know what I want, and there’s only ever been one thing.
 
  Her eyes trained on mine, her teeth clamping down onto her lip when I shoved  the skirt over her hips.
 


 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

 

Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.


For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!
 


RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Under Her Skin by Aria Cole

 

 
 
 
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Sienna Taylor walked into Mad Ink looking for a temporary escape. Instead, she found River Madden, the gorgeously talented and impossibly moody owner of the shop. One look in her big, dark eyes makes him desperate to possess her, his need to mark her untouched skin a primal distraction.

One touch of his needle sends electricity rocketing between them, and by the time he’s finished leaving his brand on her, he’s doing the unthinkable and offering her a job—and possibly losing his sense of sanity.

Finding forever is the last thing on River’s mind, but one taste of her sweet innocence has him consumed with claiming her.
She’s too innocent, too sweet, too untouchable, and far too good for him. But she has a darkness that claws at her, a crack fracturing her heart that only makes him crave her more.

Warning: From the moment his tattoo gun touches her skin, River is utterly obsessed with his girl.
If over-the-top, insta-love goodness with a moody, tattooed alpha is your cup of steam, look no further!
River has a talent for pushing all the right buttons. 😉
 


ONE

River
“So, my hands are in her hair, and I’m fucking close, man. I don’t know what I did to the bitch to make her pull the teeth out, but no shit, I think I almost lost my dick last night.”
The sound of a feminine someone clearing her voice turned both of our heads. Jericho shot up, hand outstretched and that weird half smile he only did for chicks he wanted to bang curling his face.
The guy was a fucking whore, and if I had to live through another one of his one-night stands rehashed, I’d throw my fist through his teeth. I’d already thought about breaking a finger, but fucker needed them if he was going to permanently lay artwork on someone’s body, and the guy had talent.
I’d hired him when he got to page three of his portfolio—a portrait of a someone’s grandpa in a war uniform inked on the client’s bicep. The fucking most beautiful tattoo I’d ever seen in my life, and I knew I had to have Jericho in my shop.
Just a goddamn shame I had to put up with him every day.
“She’s a sweet one.” Jericho turned and winked. “And she’s looking for you. Told her I had more talented fingers, but she wasn’t buying it.”
I arched an eyebrow, irritation pulsing through my gut before I stood, plastering on a blank face for my new client.
I lived for tattooing and creating art. What I didn’t love was dealing with customers. Constantly. It was hard being an artist and not being able to control exactly how you would create on a canvas, since the canvas tended to belong to another human.
I’d learned to put on a reserved face over the years—I wasn’t one of those guys who chatted your goddamned ear off. I didn’t give two fucks about your life story or why this tattoo finally meant so much. In fact, half the struggle I’d had in the two years since I’d opened Aspen Ink was tuning out the dimwits so I could focus long enough to give them what they came for—a permanent piece of art on their skin.
Jericho and Dev busted my balls about my shitty chairside personality in the beginning, but it turns out customers don’t give a shit about manners when you leave them with something they can’t get anywhere else on their arm. I had plenty of repeat customers and was usually booked out months in advance. As a result, most of the clients I already knew, so the fact that I didn’t recognize the name on my schedule today had been a little odd, though not unheard of.
I pulled out a set of clean tools, giving a last glance over my sterile work area before heading to the front counter.
A small little thing, with golden blond hair cascading down to a tiny nipped-in waist, was waiting for me at the front desk. I frowned.
“Hi, I’m River Madden.” I came around the counter, touching her elbow.
She spun, that silky mass of waves brushing across my forearm and sending zaps of fire through my skin.
“I’m Sienna.” Indigo blue eyes nailed mine.
I shifted on my feet, throat already dry before I hooked a finger over my shoulder. “Follow me.”
Red lips pursed for a second, eyes narrowing before she nodded swiftly.
I gnashed down on my teeth, figuring I knew exactly what I was in for with this one. “Let me guess, cute little elephant tattoo on your ankle?”
I held a hand out, gesturing for her to sit in my tattoo chair.
“Not quite.” She plopped down, eyes connecting with mine again.
Fuck, what was it about those eyes? Like she couldn’t keep herself from looking at me, staring into my soul or some shit. Weird as fuck and I hated every minute of it.
“Quote under your tit? That what the girls are getting these days, right?”
“I’m not a girl.” She crossed her arms. She certainly wasn’t. She might be small, but that fire burning in those ocean irises told me she wouldn’t hesitate to give a man hell. Fuck, why did that kinda make me smile?
“Well, safe to assume this is your first tattoo?” My eyes landed on her short denim cutoffs then crawled up her body to the long sleeves that covered her arms. This girl was A-1 vanilla, no doubt about it. I was good at reading people, and this one was just too sweet to have seen anything resembling a hard life.
“You know what they say about people who assume, right?” Her grin crooked to the side. “You make an ass—” she rolled up one sleeve, revealing dark slashes of purple and black ink “—out of mostly…you.”
“Impressive.” I moved closer. “I pegged you for a virgin.” I felt a shiver race through her when I cupped her arm in my palm, inspecting the work. “Where’d you go for this?”
“A few towns over. Got it a few months ago.” She pulled up her other sleeve, inked vines wrapping up her forearms to her elbow. “And this was my first, the day I turned eighteen.”
“Fair to say I am an ass, then.” I was unable to help the small smile pulling at my lips. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
She pulled the hem of her shirt above her head, luscious flesh revealed to my greedy fucking eyes.
Christ, she was beautiful. Creamy, soft, unmarred flesh. My vision swam with thoughts of inking her body, watching her squirm under my hands, sinking balls deep into the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen…
“I want to cover this.” She pulled her shirt up past her ribs, a thick white slash, about two inches long, covering her side.
The rough pads of my fingers dragged across the raised flesh, and a soft sigh pushed past her lips before our eyes met again. “What you got in mind for it?”
“A heart,” she said simply. “Shattered.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this request, but something about the way she put those two words together sliced me open. I was wrong about her. This girl had darkness behind her pretty blue eyes.
“Got a picture?”
“Do you one better.” She slipped a folded scrap of paper from the back pocket of her shorts. “I want this.”
I unfolded the sheet, surprised to find a bloodied red heart inked faintly with the outlines of a skull. “This is pretty badass.”
“I thought so too.” She shrugged, smiling proudly before lying back on my chair. She stretched her arms above her head, the shirt riding up higher and revealing a hint of neon green bra against her creamy skin.
“Hate to ask, but I need to see an ID.”
She arched one sassy eyebrow before her lips curled up. “Does that mean you don’t think I look eighteen?”
The way she said it made my cock fucking pound behind my zipper. Whatever in the hell had brought this woman into my studio today, I owed a huge debt of gratitude. I’d been inking people in this very chair for over two years now and never gave any fucks about my canvas. Until her. Until now.
I frowned, confused by the way she sucked me in, before I grunted. “I’ll get this sketched for you. Need to see an ID when I get back.”
I shot out of the chair and stalked to the light station as far away from her as I could get.
I didn’t have time for a saucy little girl running through my shop, making my dick hard, and causing me to think all kinds of nasty thoughts. Like what it would be like to bend her over my table. Or fuck her in the piercing room.
Shit. Did she have any piercings?
I’d be a fucking dead man if she did.
Just the idea of little metal barbells piercing her nipples had a ripple of pain coursing through my balls.
I hunched over the drawing table, adjusting my cock, as I started the outline for her tattoo. I caught glimpses of her watching me work, her eyes crawling around my shop and over me as I took my time designing her tattoo.
She didn’t flip through her phone once, which surprised the fuck out of me because girls her age had it fucking glued to their palm.
That shit wasn’t good for your mind, and if I didn’t have to own a cell to stay in touch for the sake of my business, I wouldn’t own one. Worst goddamn invention on the planet, that little mini-computer sitting in everyone’s pocket.
“That looks incredible.” She breathed against my neck.
Fuck. She was too close for comfort.
“Wait, what if we add a few stitches across the crack? Just black slashes, like someone did a rushed job fixing it.”
I frowned as I thought, imagining the final piece in my head before coming around to the idea. “I think that would highlight the skeleton shaded into the background. Good call.” I added a few random stitches to the center of the heart, across the skull of the skeleton.
“I love it,” she whispered, her palms sliding down my forearms and squeezing tightly.
Her touch was like razor blades against my skin.
I wasn’t sure if I loved it or wanted to wrench my arm away.
It’d been so fucking long since I’d let anyone touch me like this. And now this girl was not only all up in my personal space, but in my head too.
“Great. Lie down on the table, and we’ll get you prepped.” I tried to keep my voice clipped and to the point, my only focus on being professional despite the raging hard dick tenting my pants.
I helped her up onto the table, avoiding the gorgeous view of her ass as she turned around. Her shorts were so fucking short I was sure I could catch a glimpse of her pussy if I looked hard enough. Why the fuck was she out in public wearing that shit? Didn’t she know what disgusting men like me thought of her?
“Got that ID?” I grinned down at her.
“Here you go, Daddy-o.” She flipped me her driver’s license, confirming she was of age. Nineteen. So, barely.
“Looks good.”
“Told you it would,” she sassed back. Goose bumps rippled across her skin when I applied the cool sanitizer to her rib cage. Then I placed the stencil I’d drawn into place, the crack in the heart matching the jagged edges of the scar slashed permanently into her flesh.
I had a mind to trace my tongue along the rough edges, listening to her shudder and come around me as I milked all the pleasure from her body.
I slipped my fingers along the edges of the transfer paper, making sure the ink outline deposited onto her skin. She shuddered when my fingertip drifted across her wrist.
Fuck, she was so sensitive.
I had visions of her spread out beneath me, my hands in her hair, my tongue licking up her silky skin. The thought of burying my head between her legs had blood rushing through my cock.
What the hell was that scent? And sweet fucking lord, did she taste that good too?
No. Better.
Probably better.
I shifted in my chair, and her eyes averted to me before the shadow of her eyelashes fell onto her cheeks. The air vacated my lungs, blood raging through my veins and making my heart pound a tattoo against my ribs. My cock throbbed, aching to push inside her, fuck her until she was breathless and begging.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with me?
Jericho had given me hell about living like a damn monk, but I’d never reacted to a woman this way. But this wasn’t just any woman; this was Sienna fucking Taylor, too young, too innocent, too good. Way too good.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” She spoke up, and I nearly choked.
“Excuse me?”
Her eyes flickered up to me, a smirk turning up those succulent lips. “The tattoo, it’s big.”
“Ah, right.” I cleared my throat, peeling off the transfer paper and focusing on her eyes for the first time since she’d sat down. “I don’t think I could make it much smaller. You’d start to lose detail on the skeleton.”
“Oh, I like it. I just didn’t envision it that big, but I’m ready. I want it.” Her big, round eyes peered up at me, sweet, untouched. Heartbreakingly fucking beautiful.
I turned, opening the black ink and placing it at the table beside me. “Think you can handle the pain? This is gonna take me a while.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Bet I can handle more than you think.”
Jesus.
Who was this girl?
 


 

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Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.
 
Aria’s new release BLACK is the first in her modern fairy tale series. For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
 
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!
 
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RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Yes, Prime Minister by Aria Cole

 

 

 

 



As the Prime Minister of Canada, boyishly handsome Bryce Gallagher gets exactly what he wants, exactly when he wants it. He’s never met a foreign dignitary he couldn’t charm—or an office assistant who didn’t swoon at one of his panty-dropping smiles.
But Bryce has never met a woman who’s caught his attention. And then Juliette Alexandre walks into his life.


Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks requires grit, and Juliette Alexandre has it in spades. She’s worked tooth and nail for every accomplishment she’s earned, which is why she is zero percent interested in the perfectly round, incredibly taut, viral-worthy ass of her new boss, Prime Minister Gallagher. She’s finally landed the dream job…

Now she just has to avoid eye-fucking the sexy-as-hell Prime Minister every time he shoots her that orgasm-inducing grin.
The fate of the country may depend on it.


Warning: Get your passport ready. You’ll be crying “Oh…Canadahhhhhhhhhhhh” once Bryce sets his sights on you.



 

 



Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.


For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!


RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Stepbrother Anomymous by Aria Cole

 

 

 

 



Love is for suckers.

That’s always been Hudson Farrow’s take on it. His mother has practically made a career out of saying I do, which is why he’s found himself in another upstate town, preparing to watch her walk down the aisle with another yacht club asshole, nursing his cynicism with Scotch at another lonely dive bar. A sassy siren that sets his blood on fire wasn’t part of the plan, neither was a new stepsister, and now Hudson’s a man with a problem because he’s just found out they’re one in the same.


Skylar Walsh never thought the one and only man she’s ever brought home would turn into anything beyond a few orgasms. Until six-foot-four, sinfully sexy, talented and tattooed sweeps her off her feet–and right between his thighs–on his custom Harley. When Hudson demands her phone number before the night’s over she knows she’s in for a wild ride. When she runs into him at her father’s wedding the next day she realizes she may have just made the biggest mistake of her life. A dozen sheet-clenching, toe-curling, and soul-shatteringly good times in the last twenty-four-hours.


Warning: Hudson is hellbent on his Sky, and he won’t let a little thing like I do come between them. Filthy-sweet tattooed hearts, perfectly placed piercings that hit all the right spots, and love and fate inked so deep no force can keep them apart. Hold onto your hearts because Stepbrother Anonymous stole mine! xo Aria



 

 


Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!


COVER REVEAL ~ Stepbrother Anonymous by Aria Cole

 

 

Coming April 24th

 

 

 
Love is for suckers.

That’s always been Hudson Farrow’s take on it. His mother has practically made a career out of saying I do, which is why he’s found himself in another upstate town, preparing to watch her walk down the aisle with another yacht club asshole, nursing his cynicism with Scotch at another lonely dive bar. A sassy siren that sets his blood on fire wasn’t part of the plan, neither was a new stepsister, and now Hudson’s a man with a problem because he’s just found out they’re one in the same.


Skylar Walsh never thought the one and only man she’s ever brought home would turn into anything beyond a few orgasms. Until six-foot-four, sinfully sexy, talented and tattooed sweeps her off her feet–and right between his thighs–on his custom Harley. When Hudson demands her phone number before the night’s over she knows she’s in for a wild ride. When she runs into him at her father’s wedding the next day she realizes she may have just made the biggest mistake of her life. A dozen sheet-clenching, toe-curling, and soul-shatteringly good times in the last twenty-four-hours.


Warning: Hudson is hellbent on his Sky, and he won’t let a little thing like I do come between them. Filthy-sweet tattooed hearts, perfectly placed piercings that hit all the right spots, and love and fate inked so deep no force can keep them apart. Hold onto your hearts because Stepbrother Anonymous stole mine! xo Aria

 



Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.


For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!
 



 

 

RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Perfect Chemistry by Aria Cole

 

 

 

 

 



Note: This was previously released as part of the Hot For Teacher Anthology.

Devon Walsh is the chemistry teacher at the local high school, and in all his years teaching, he’s never looked at a student inappropriately. Until Karoline Kingston steps through his door, with the body of a goddess and innocent eyes that beguile him. He’s distracted throughout class but vows to keep his distance, despite every primal urge telling him to take her hard and mark her as his own.  

Karoline and Devon count down the days until she’s eighteen and Mr. Walsh can finally touch the woman that he’s been waiting for his entire life. But when he finds another student assaulting her in a dark hallway, Devon loses his mind with rage. Threatening to expose the risky road Karoline and Devon had found themselves on, he vows to protect Karoline no matter the cost.

 

Jean-Luc Martel knows good taste. As the award-winning celebrity chef of éloïse, he’s amassed a high-end clientele and hordes of dedicated foodie fans. But while he’s a master in the kitchen, his reputation for being a nightmare to work with precedes him. Known for his rapid-fire temper, chiseled good looks, and a dash of tattooed, bad boy edge, Jean-Luc doesn’t take shit from anyone. Until he meets Delaney Thomas. She’s talented, sassy, entirely too sexy for her own good, and the niece of his best friend and sous chef.

Every bone in his body is telling him to take what’s his, but outside forces soon conspire to pull them apart, and Jean-Luc finds himself more torn and tortured than he’s ever been. As his bad boy reputation threatens to rattle the very foundations of the forever he’s trying to build with Delaney, they’ll both be forced to decide if love really can exist under the most intense pressure.

Warning: Jean-Luc is a sex-on-a-stick, walking, talking, blue-blooded alpha male. The only thing that melts this man’s frozen heart is the woman of his dreams, and something tells him nothing would taste sweeter than Delaney on his tongue. If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of Jean-Luc’s kitchen!

 


 


Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!


 

BLOG TOUR ~ Under Pressure by Aria Cole

 

 

 

 

 

 


Jean-Luc Martel knows good taste. As the award-winning celebrity chef of éloïse, he’s amassed a high-end clientele and hordes of dedicated foodie fans. But while he’s a master in the kitchen, his reputation for being a nightmare to work with precedes him. Known for his rapid-fire temper, chiseled good looks, and a dash of tattooed, bad boy edge, Jean-Luc doesn’t take shit from anyone. Until he meets Delaney Thomas. She’s talented, sassy, entirely too sexy for her own good, and the niece of his best friend and sous chef.

Every bone in his body is telling him to take what’s his, but outside forces soon conspire to pull them apart, and Jean-Luc finds himself more torn and tortured than he’s ever been. As his bad boy reputation threatens to rattle the very foundations of the forever he’s trying to build with Delaney, they’ll both be forced to decide if love really can exist under the most intense pressure.

Warning: Jean-Luc is a sex-on-a-stick, walking, talking, blue-blooded alpha male. The only thing that melts this man’s frozen heart is the woman of his dreams, and something tells him nothing would taste sweeter than Delaney on his tongue. If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of Jean-Luc’s kitchen!



Jean-Luc

“Get these out the door. Come on, guys! It’ll be fucking cold by the time it reaches the table!” I belted, pushing two elegantly decorated plates into the hands of the next server that walked into the kitchen.
She looked at me, eyes wide as she struggled, nearly dropping one of them.
“Table twelve.” The growl that vibrated from my throat must have done its job. She spun, racing right back out the doors she’d come through without a word.
“Fuck, who does the hiring around here?” I shoved a hand into the deep pocket of my apron and pulled out my pack of cigarettes. I was supposed to be quitting, one last habit I hadn’t quite been able to shake. “I’ll be back in five.”
I waved, leaving the kitchen staff to handle the firing of a new round of dishes. Sometimes I imagined what my life would be like if I went somewhere else, cut and run on this little venture, but I couldn’t, because it was my little venture.
I groaned, shoving through the back door to the alleyway and leaning against the cold brick as I lit the stick in my mouth. I took one long, slow inhale, letting the smoke evaporate my anxiety, feeling it coil through my body like an instant muscle relaxer. No wonder I couldn’t quit these little babies; my life was too damn stressful at éloïse not to have a few vices to get me through.
“Chef?” My sous chef, Nero, pushed through the crack in the door.
“Fuck, what, man? I can’t take any more shit tonight. I’m going to start taking the hiring away from Frank. I can’t carry the front and the back of the house by myself.”
Nero’s eyes widened before someone stepped out from behind him, almost smaller than he was, as if that were possible. She was barely five foot two and had enough curves to get a man lost for days.
“Who’s this?” I drew on my cigarette.
“This is my niece. Frank hired her as the hostess, but she’s got some experience expediting.” Nero nodded. “She grew up in my father’s restaurant, knows her way around things real well.”
“How old is she?” I tried like hell to keep my eyes off her oversized ocean-blue ones. Christ, why did she keep looking at me like that? Like she was seeing inside my soul. Every goddamn dark corner I kept hidden, she shone a light on. It made me uncomfortable, made me kinda fucking itch. I sucked another lungful of cancer into my body and exhaled, trying to shake the feeling, praying the nicotine would do its job and relax my muscles into submission.
“Just turned twenty-one,” Nero finally answered. I knew his family came from a long line of chefs, cooks, and restaurateurs. They were an accomplished family in their own right, and that’s why he was my right-hand man. Also, because he knew me, inside and out. Every shameful secret I had, Nero knew. He was one of the few people who knew everything about me that I actually kept around—and only because he was a damn good cook. I couldn’t run this place half as well without him, and I paid him top dollar to show my appreciation. Fucker deserved a gold mine for the hell I put him through.
I’d met Nero years ago, during a time I’d rather forget. That guy had seen me at my worst. And now that we were both in a better place, it’d only made sense that I bring him on when I finally cajoled investors and was able to open my own restaurant. Whoever sank two million into the startup of éloïse had to be a little crazy, and Frank was no doubt that, but he also saw something in me no one else had: passion. Food was my life, and it was the only thing that saved me all those years ago when I was destitute on the street.
But that was the past, and hell if I liked lingering there.
Éloïse, home of seasonal local dishes that evolved on a daily basis, was my baby. All plates curated by me, Chef Jean-Luc Martel. Food & Wine had rated me #1 up-and-coming chef to watch when I was twenty-two. I’d had a rocky road the first half of my thirty-two years, but the second half I’d made count.
The one thing I apparently did not have?
A decent wait staff.
“Tell Frank I want to chat with him about hiring,” I shot to Nero, tossing my cigarette in the butt tray then finally catching the eye of the blue-eyed beauty who’d been cowering in the shadows before now. “What do I call you?”
She took a step into the light, eyes narrowing before her lush lips opened. “Delaney Thomas.” I swore when she said her name a lightning bolt cleaved my heart in two. “Can’t wait to work with you, Chef.”
Christ, I was in deep water with this one.
My gaze ate up and down her form. “How loud do you holler?”
Her eyes flared with surprise as Nero’s laugh pulled me from Delaney Thomas. “I’ll catch you later, Lane.” Nero patted Delaney on the back, shaking his head at me before putting up a finger. “Go easy on her, Chef.”
“Goin’ easy on anyone never got them anywhere.” I knew that firsthand. I’d worked tooth and nail to get this place, and the fact that the front of the house was all but failing was a thorn in my side. I had to take the reins on hiring, and I only hoped Miss Delaney Thomas knew what she was doing because I didn’t have the tolerance for ineptitude. There was a reason éloïse was a Michelin starred restaurant, and I planned on keeping it that way.
“I can work front or back, wherever you want me,” she said. Her uncle had left us alone, this dark alleyway and a sliver of moonlight the only things separating me from her.
Our bodies.
Fuck.
I hadn’t thought about a woman this way since… Hell, maybe ever. And that irritated me. Everything about this irritated me. How could I work in the kitchen when she was floating around, bumping against my body, and leaning over, her gorgeous tits flashing in my—
“Where do you want me, Chef?”
I cleared my throat, suddenly starved for something. Her, underneath me, would satisfy my craving, for starters.
I moved closer, the heady scent of delicious peaches unfurling around me. Jesus, did she really smell like that? I wanted to bury my face in her creamy, delicious flesh and take my fill. Eat and drink from her altar until I was covered in her juices, dripping with the scent of ripe peaches and Delaney. Damn, I bet she tasted like honey.
Fuck. I had a problem.
“I’ve got high standards, Delaney. I’m not an easy man to please.” I paused, leveling her with my eyes. “I hope you can handle the pressure.”
One eyebrow arched, beautiful red painted lips quirking up in a soft grin. “You might be surprised what I can handle.”
Her arms crossing over her chest drew my attention to the delicate petal pink fabric falling over her heavy tits. I sucked in another inhale of peach-scented heaven, my jaw tense as I growled, “Don’t wear the smelly shit tomorrow.”
I don’t think my dick can handle it.
“Sure thing, Chef.” She tilted her head to the side and walked back through the back door, belting out orders to the kitchen staff like she’d been doing it her whole life.
Jesus.
I didn’t know if I should thank Nero for saving my life or fire him for torturing me with his niece.
Delaney was in my kitchen and under my skin, and I’d only known her five damn minutes.
I was in so much trouble.

 


 

 




Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.


For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!


RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Under Pressure by Aria Cole.

 

 

 


Jean-Luc Martel knows good taste. As the award-winning celebrity chef of éloïse, he’s amassed a high-end clientele and hordes of dedicated foodie fans. But while he’s a master in the kitchen, his reputation for being a nightmare to work with precedes him. Known for his rapid-fire temper, chiseled good looks, and a dash of tattooed, bad boy edge, Jean-Luc doesn’t take shit from anyone. Until he meets Delaney Thomas. She’s talented, sassy, entirely too sexy for her own good, and the niece of his best friend and sous chef.

Every bone in his body is telling him to take what’s his, but outside forces soon conspire to pull them apart, and Jean-Luc finds himself more torn and tortured than he’s ever been. As his bad boy reputation threatens to rattle the very foundations of the forever he’s trying to build with Delaney, they’ll both be forced to decide if love really can exist under the most intense pressure.

Warning: Jean-Luc is a sex-on-a-stick, walking, talking, blue-blooded alpha male. The only thing that melts this man’s frozen heart is the woman of his dreams, and something tells him nothing would taste sweeter than Delaney on his tongue. If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of Jean-Luc’s kitchen!


 






Aria Cole
is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.


For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!


NEW RELEASE ~ Under Fire by Aria Cole

 


Blaise Michaels has never met a fire he couldn’t tame—or a woman who could cause a fire-alarm blaze in his heart. But the night he meets Brianna Foster is a night that will leave permanent marks on them both.

Brianna Foster wasn’t looking for love—in fact, all she was looking for was her grumpy old cat before the building dissolved into ash around them. But when tall, dark, and heroic bursts through her apartment door to save her—and her pussy—from the flames, she never dreams he would light a fire that could incinerate her heart.

Warning: Blaise is a big, growly, alpha male with a hero complex. Saving Brianna isn’t enough for him. He wants more than just in her bed. He wants her tied to him for life.

 


Brianna
 
   “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,”
   I cooed, tossing another treat his way.  
   A low grumble vibrated from somewhere by the bed.
   “Don’t be a bad boy. Come to Mommy.” I tried my best to stay calm as fire alarms rang around my head. “Jinx…”
   I heard the bang of footsteps up the old stairwell.  
   “Jinx! For God’s sake, come to Mommy!” I inched closer, the fire alarms wearing on my last fucking nerve. “Jinx, come here, boy. Please come here.”     
   The old cat crouched farther under the bed.  
   I could hear more footsteps pounding down the hallway now, doors banging, people running.  
   There’d been a half a dozen false alarms in the last year I’d been living here, but this time, I’d heard the sirens outside. There were a lot of emergency vehicles currently parked in front of my small apartment complex, and something told me this wasn’t a false alarm.  
   “Jinx, goddammit, get your grouchy little ass over here.” I lunged under the bed, the edge of the cheap metal frame cutting into my upper thigh. “Fuck!”  
   I kept stretching, trying desperately to dig my fingers into his soft fur so I could haul him out of here with me.  
   No way could I leave my sweet kitty in a building that was going up in flames.     
   It was probably just Mrs. Avery on the third floor, blind as an old bat and cooking soup. The flames had crawled all the way up the wall and left a trail of soot the last time this had happened, and the super still hadn’t replaced her range hood. She complained about it to me every time I went upstairs for cookies and tea. I hated the tea, she put way more lemon in it than I liked, but I choked it down for her.  
   I hoped she was safe. I hoped everyone, as motley a crew as they may be, was already out on the lawn. I’d grown attached to everyone here, and in a way, we’d banded together over the complete lack of upkeep on the part of our landlord.  
   If it wasn’t peeling paint or heaved sidewalks, it was a leaking pipe or a burned-out air conditioner.  
   I hated this fucking building. Part of me hoped it would go up in flames, but I knew it was the cheapest rent I could find in this city. Rents were climbing higher and higher every year, and I was barely making it as is.
   If I didn’t have an apartment to live in, where the hell would I go?
  “Jinx…” I tossed him another treat, begging him to inch just a little closer. “Please, boy?”
    A half a dozen loud bangs rattled the door of my apartment. Jinx chose that moment to swipe at my hand, slicing my finger ruthlessly and causing blood to pool between my fingers.
   “Fuck!” I recoiled, not bothering to check the gash on my thigh that was now throbbing, and launched down the short hallway to my front door.
    Just as I reached the kitchen, the door burst open and a firefighter, complete with breathing mask, barged in.  
   A pair of intense dark eyes was all I could see of the stranger, his hand waving me to him rapidly.  
   I shook my head, stubborn tenacity and adrenaline charging through my veins as I turned back down the hallway. I didn’t even give a shit that I was seriously undressed. I had to get Jinx.  
   “Ma’am!” The firefighter pounded down the hall after me.  
   I slid beneath the bed again, stretching to reach Jinx.  
   “Ma’am, I’ve got to get you out of here.” His hand rested at my back. Gentler than I would have expected considering the layers of fireproof gear he wore.
   I shook my head, glancing over my shoulder to find he’d taken off his mask.  
   And then the air was sucked straight out of my lungs.  
   Warm, honeyed skin stretched across a dark, stubbled jaw. The angles of his face inviting, the dark slash of his eyebrows and empathy radiating from his eyes making me weak in the knees. His full lips parted with each breath, the reckless, unkempt dark hair…he was the walking embodiment of a firefighter’s calendar I’d seen a while back. Except this guy was better, features so chiseled I was pretty sure I would spontaneously combust if I stared at him for too long. Why did it feel like something was twisting down deep in my belly with just one look?
   Wait, what is going on again?
   Why is there a gorgeous, rugged fireman in my bedroom?
   Right.  
   Jinx.  “My cat,” I breathed, pointing under the bed, shaking the fireman-induced haze from my brain.
   “Your cat is under the bed?” His throaty voice curled my toes. I gulped.
   “I can’t leave him.” His eyes heated with understanding. “I’ll get him.”
    He stood, walking around the bed, his gait slow and confident. I would have killed to see what he was packing under that fireman’s getup, if the place wasn’t burning down around us, that is.
  “Wait—” I interjected. “He’s been a moody bastard. He might bite you.”
    A crooked smile that made my stomach turn somersaults cracked his lips. “I’ve encountered a lot of mean kitties. That’s why they give me the gloves.” He held up one gloved hand and winked.  
   He winked.  
   He fucking winked at me.
   I nodded, unable to form a syllable before tall, rugged, and dangerously sexy leaned beneath the bed and swiped up my ornery old cat in one hand. He cradled Jinx in the crook of his elbow, covering his eyes before coming around the bed for me.
   “Let’s go.” He held out a hand.  
   My lips slid open, the way his eyes held mine leaving me completely transfixed. His dominant presence ate up the energy between us and made me a slave to his scrutiny. I couldn’t think straight, could hardly take a breath without feeling his gaze prickle my skin. I felt completely immobile. As cheesy as it might sound, I was a deer in the headlights, those headlights being his intense eyes. I could swear my heart was beating a hundred miles an hour, and at that moment, I was thankful for the fire and the search for Jinx because it hid my embarrassing reaction to this stranger.
   “You gonna make me carry you?” He did that crooked grin thing again that I’m pretty sure had the ability to get me pregnant. I pondered asking him to carry me just because I wanted the feel of his hard, firm body pressed against mine, but my leg chose that moment to throb fiercely, reminding me of the wound I’d gotten earlier. I glanced down, seeing rivers of red streak down my leg. Well, if I pass out from his heat, at least I can pretend it’s from the gallons of blood I am losing from my leg.
   “Shit.”
   He bent over for a closer look. “Let’s get you safe.”
   He pulled me against him in one arm, sliding Jinx into my hands before swooping his other under me and carrying me out of my bedroom. My heart thundered in erratic beats as I felt every inch of him pressed to me, his hands cupping my body, cradling me tight in his rugged arms. My insides churned like butter, my palms prickling with newfound desire. It was not the appropriate moment to feel any of those things, but there was something about the way he handled me, something about the way his eyes had held mine from across the room that caused sensation to flutter through every nerve of my body. He left a lasting impression, like a tattoo on my flaming skin.  
   His eyes caught mine then as we walked through my kitchen.
   “Doin’ okay, sweetheart?”
   I felt a blush crawl up my chest and heat my neck.
   “I—” I paused, struggling to form words when he was looking at me like that—like he could see straight into my soul. “I’m just shocked there’s a real fire.”
   The excuse was lame even as it fell on my ears, but in all fairness, I did not expect to find myself in the arms of a fireman today either.
    “’Course there’s a real fire. Why do you think I’m saving you?” He glanced down to the cat in my arms. “And your kitty.”
   Heat flamed between my thighs. Did he have this power over all the women he carried out of burning buildings? I frowned, the idea that he’d made anyone other than me feel this way not sitting well in my stomach.
   We burst into the hall where we joined more firefighters rushing into the building, long hoses clutched in powerful hands.  
   They shouted orders, made hand gestures, then shot up the stairs to the third floor.  
   “Jesus.” My heart cracked open as I prayed everyone else was okay.
    As if reading my mind, he spoke. “You’re the last one, sweetheart. Guys said they pounded on your door once already, assumed no one was home.”
   I withered at his words. “But, Jinx…”
   “Right. The cat.” He took the stairs two at a time, cradling me in his firm embrace. An odd sense of relief washed over me for the first time in my life. I was so strong and resilient on my own, but giving up the reins and being taken care of felt surprisingly good, even if it was by a stranger for exactly two point five minutes while he whisked me away from a fire.
   “You’re lucky I saved your cute little ass.” He pushed through the creaky front doors of the apartment complex, the night air crisp on my bare skin. A shiver pulsed through me, one he must have felt. “We need to get you covered up. Have that gash looked at. You may need stitches.”
   I groaned, shuttering my eyes closed, thinking that was exactly the kind of luck I had.  
   Rescued by a hot firefighter, check. Scarred by an angry cat while trying to save the little bastard’s life? Check.  
   And then it dawned on me that I’d have no bed to sleep in tonight.  
  No money to rent a hotel room.  
  No family or friends to crash with. Maybe I could call one of the girls at the coffee shop where I worked, sleep on someone’s couch for a few days… And then what?
   I groaned again, louder.  
   “You don’t sound like a girl whose life was just saved from a blazing inferno.”
   I frowned. Was sarcasm a trait among firefighters? I glanced up at him, too weak and suddenly too exhausted for anything but honesty. “I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight.”  
   Or ever.
   His eyes narrowed as we reached the nearest ambulance. He shifted me out of his arms, sitting me on the edge. He took the cat from my hands while a paramedic wrapped me in a blanket. His eyes tore up and down my body, as if searching for more wounds that might need tending. I didn’t know if it was the heat of his gaze on my skin, or the black smoke clogging the parking lot, but something about the way he tended to me made something sweet and comforting unfurl deep inside me.
   I’d never been tended to in my life, but all of a sudden, the idea of being without his attention felt like more than I was willing to bear.
   “Check her leg. She’s got a deep cut.” His voice was authoritative and throaty, sending new waves of arousal spinning through me. He stood at my side, watching with a close eye as the paramedic inspected the gash, cleaned it with antiseptic, and then bandaged it tightly. I’d never felt more loved.    
  I was so consumed with the feelings waging a cage fight behind my ribs that I hardly felt her fingers on me.  
   A tall, broad, sinfully sexy firefighter dominated my thoughts.  
   The one holding my kitty.

 

 


Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

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