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BLOG TOUR – Disorderly Conduct (the Anna Albertini Files) by Rebecca Zanetti

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“Disorderly Conduct is the perfect summer read! Once you fall into Anna’s world, you won’t want to come back to reality…it’s perfect for fans of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series!”

—Lexi Blake, New York Times bestselling author

Disorderly Conduct, an all-new sexy, witty and fun novel from New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti is available now!

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Bullets and Kisses Can Burn

The last person Anna Albertini expects to see in an orange jumpsuit in District Court—a place she SO doesn’t belong as a new prosecuting attorney—is Aiden Devlin, the man who’d saved her life when they were kids. For years, she has dreamed about him. Now here he is—his eyes blue, his chest wide, and his hands in cuffs.

Sure, Aiden says he doesn’t want her help, and his ties to a deadly motorcycle club should give her warning. Yes, her new boss is a sexy Italian bad boy who might be using the case to climb to the top. Plus, the detective assigned to the case, with his green eyes and broad shoulders, wants her to stay out of his way.

With so much testosterone surrounding her all of a sudden, most women would find it hard to concentrate. This might be why the case leads Anna to yelp during a spa appointment, fall out of a tree, and chase a naked old man around the courtroom. It’s a good thing Anna learned a long time ago to be her own hero, no matter how fast the bullets fly or the kisses consume.


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Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3es0dHg
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2B7ct1t
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/disorderlyconduct
Nook: https://bit.ly/2YxbaBG
Kobo: https://bit.ly/2NozeR0

Add DISORDERLY CONDUCT to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2A0oBkg


Excerpt

“I see,” the judge said, turning to the small stack of case files in front of her, clearly disappointed at the lack of gossip. “Let’s get to business, then. Georgiana Lambertini,” she called out in a clear voice.

I turned as Georgiana and Thelma shuffled up to my table. Georgiana had donned a pirate’s black eye patch.

I shifted my attention to the judge. “This is Georgiana and also Thelma Mullen. They were charged together.”

The judge raised her eyebrows. “For breaking and entering?”

Georgiana’s hands clasped against her chest. “It was a mistake, judge,” she said solemnly, her visible brown eye earnest and cloudy. “We were just trying to be good neighbors. We’re getting close to heaven’s gates, you know.”

“But,” Thelma started, then, “Ouch!” She grimaced down at her foot.

Georgiana smiled angelically next to her. “Yeah, we were just watering our dear neighbor’s plants,” she continued, her face beseeching and sad.

Thelma hummed and fluttered mascara-caked eyelashes. “Well, all right then,” she said.

The judge nodded at Georgiana’s eye patch. “Were you injured?”

“Oh no.” Georgiana flipped the eye patch up, revealing a cataract riddled brown eye. “I thought it was a good look for the big house. You know, so the bad bitches don’t mess with us.”

The judge buried her head in the file, and I couldn’t move. The lady had just sworn in court. It was funny, but…I couldn’t move.


Meet Rebecca

Rebecca-4 (1)

Rebecca Zanetti is the author of over fifty romantic suspense and dark paranormal romances, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. The New York Times reviews has found that in her books, “humor surfaces in even the tensest moments, giving the high-stakes drama humanity and warmth.” She lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her own Alpha hero, two kids, a couple of dogs, a crazy cat…and a huge extended family. She believes strongly in luck, karma, and working her butt off…and she thinks one of the best things about being an author, unlike the lawyer she used to be, is that she can let the crazy out.

Connect with Rebecca

Facebook: https://bit.ly/2ZdxNeO
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2BUBA8a
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3eejUl8
Bookbub: https://bit.ly/3gHE4W1
Website: https://bit.ly/3gVd6uv


RELEASE BLITZ – Disorderly Conduct (the Anna Albertini Files) by Rebecca Zanetti

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“Quirky small town? Check. Sassy smart heroine? Check. A delicious love triangle made complicated by a twisty mystery? Check and check. Disorderly Conduct has it all!” — Lexi Blake, New York Times bestselling author

Disorderly Conduct, an all new fun and smart novel that’s pure entertainment from New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti is available now!

Disorderly Conduct_300dpi

Bullets and Kisses Can Burn

The last person Anna Albertini expects to see in an orange jumpsuit in District Court—a place she SO doesn’t belong as a new prosecuting attorney—is Aiden Devlin, the man who’d saved her life when they were kids. For years, she has dreamed about him. Now here he is—his eyes blue, his chest wide, and his hands in cuffs.

Sure, Aiden says he doesn’t want her help, and his ties to a deadly motorcycle club should give her warning. Yes, her new boss is a sexy Italian bad boy who might be using the case to climb to the top. Plus, the detective assigned to the case, with his green eyes and broad shoulders, wants her to stay out of his way.

With so much testosterone surrounding her all of a sudden, most women would find it hard to concentrate. This might be why the case leads Anna to yelp during a spa appointment, fall out of a tree, and chase a naked old man around the courtroom. It’s a good thing Anna learned a long time ago to be her own hero, no matter how fast the bullets fly or the kisses consume.


DC - AN

Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3es0dHg
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2B7ct1t
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/disorderlyconduct
Nook: https://bit.ly/2YxbaBG
Kobo: https://bit.ly/2NozeR0

Add DISORDERLY CONDUCT to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2A0oBkg


Meet Rebecca

Rebecca-4 (1)

Rebecca Zanetti is the author of over fifty romantic suspense and dark paranormal romances, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. The New York Times reviews has found that in her books, “humor surfaces in even the tensest moments, giving the high-stakes drama humanity and warmth.” She lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her own Alpha hero, two kids, a couple of dogs, a crazy cat…and a huge extended family. She believes strongly in luck, karma, and working her butt off…and she thinks one of the best things about being an author, unlike the lawyer she used to be, is that she can let the crazy out.

Connect with Rebecca

Facebook: https://bit.ly/2ZdxNeO
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2BUBA8a
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3eejUl8
Bookbub: https://bit.ly/3gHE4W1
Website: https://bit.ly/3gVd6uv


BLOG TOUR: Vixen (1001 Dark Nights novella) by Rebecca Zanetti

Vixen, an all new novella in the Dark Protectors/Rebels series by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti is available now!

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Tabi Rusko has a simple to-do list: Rob a bank, steal a recording, set up a lucrative factory, and survive the assassins on her tail. Sure, she’s a demoness with the cunning and instincts that come with her species, but she’s always spent more time exploring than training, and her fighting skills are okay at best. One sexy man, a human cop no less, is responsible for her being stuck in a small hick town and forced into a human anger-management group that’s crazier than her. To make matters worse, his dangerous blue eyes and hard body leave her breathless and ready to rumble, and his overbearing attitude is a challenge a demoness can’t refuse.

Evan O’Connell just wants to enjoy his time out of the military by policing a small town and hopefully pulling cats from trees and helping old ladies cross the street before he succumbs to the disease plaguing him. The last thing he needs is a stunning, too sexy, pain in the butt blonde casing his bank and causing a ruckus everywhere she goes. There’s something different about her that he can’t figure out, and when she offers him immortality in exchange for her freedom, he discovers that isn’t enough. One touch of her, a whirlwind beyond his imagination, and he wants the Vixen to be his forever, as soon as he takes care of the centuries old killers on her tail.

**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you’ll enjoy each one as much as we do.**


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Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2yr3s23
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/vixenrz
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2XlOSBh

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3cWuDki


Excerpt

“If you need an alibi taking that twerp out, just let me know,” Tabi whispered to Raine as she strode out of the abandoned schoolhouse after the useless anger management class. Johnny Baker was a waste of space, as far as she was concerned.

“Thanks,” Raine said, not smiling, the darkness surrounding him. The early spring breeze rustled through the night, chilly and unwelcoming. At least it wasn’t raining.

She nodded and moved down the crumbling cement sidewalk toward her car as Raine turned and jogged across the street to his silver truck. Stopping at her car, she paused, not surprised to see the detective heading her way through the night. “You really have a hard-on for me, don’t you?” she murmured.

“Yes.” Both of his eyebrows rose. “You sure have a way with words.”

She unlocked her vehicle, her body flaring to life at his honest response. “I was raised by a woman who called it like she saw it.” Sometimes the pain at losing Janet still took Tabi by surprise. Why did humans have to die? “Unless you’re going to give up my video, I suggest you head to work like your boss ordered you to do.”

Evan opened her door, his sexy scent of smoked honey wafting around. “I’ll give you the recording.”

She jolted and turned to face him directly. “What did you say?”

His blue eyes seemed darker than usual, deep with what looked like pain. “I’ll give you the recording. Come down to the station tomorrow morning for one more interview, and then I’ll take you to the bank myself.”

It was as if he knew she was going to blow town the second she got her hands on the video, even though her business was here. She bit her lip. If she got the footage, she could meet Abby at the factory and give her instructions before running. Man, she hated to run.

Evan smiled. “You’re sure thinking hard. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? I can protect you.”

Warmth flushed her. The man truly believed that. The only way he could come close would be if she—no. No way. She shouldn’t even think of that. Was it even possible? Did she want a mate?

“Tabitha? What’s barreling through your head?” As if unable to help himself, he reached out and smoothed a lock of hair away from her face.

Shocking electricity zapped beneath her skin.

His brows drew down. “Did you feel that?”

She nodded. “Why are you now willing to give me the recording?”

He sighed and looked across the vacant street. “I don’t like that the sheriff’s kid is in the anger-management group with you, considering you definitely injured his pride along with his body. Chances are, he’ll come after you. Since you’re planning to run, I thought to make it easy for you.” His gaze scouted the area, something he seemed to do often.

“Do you miss the service?” she asked softly, wanting to know more about him. Abby had told her that he’d served in the navy a while back.

He blinked. “Yeah.”

“Why did you leave?”

His gaze shuttered closed faster than a bank vault.

“I know you’re ill,” she said quietly.


Meet the Author

Rebecca-4

Rebecca Zanetti is the author of over fifty romantic suspense and dark paranormal romances, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. The New York Times reviews has found that in her books, “humor surfaces in even the tensest moments, giving the high-stakes drama humanity and warmth.” She lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her own Alpha hero, two kids, a couple of dogs, a crazy cat…and a huge extended family. She believes strongly in luck, karma, and working her butt off…and she thinks one of the best things about being an author, unlike the lawyer she used to be, is that she can let the crazy out.

Connect with Rebecca

Facebook: https://bit.ly/2ZdxNeO
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2BUBA8a
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3eejUl8
Bookbub: https://bit.ly/3gHE4W1
Website: https://bit.ly/3gVd6uv

For More information about 1001 Dark Nights Visit
Facebook: https://bit.ly/37fl0uT
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2Y7uBQp
Website: https://bit.ly/2AIIr3A
Stay up to date on all 1001 Dark Nights releases, join their mailing list today!
https://bit.ly/2zgxaHu


RELEASE BLITZ – Vixen by Rebecca Zanetti

Vixen, an all new novella in the Dark Protectors/Rebels series by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti is available now!

Vixen cover

Tabi Rusko has a simple to-do list: Rob a bank, steal a recording, set up a lucrative factory, and survive the assassins on her tail. Sure, she’s a demoness with the cunning and instincts that come with her species, but she’s always spent more time exploring than training, and her fighting skills are okay at best. One sexy man, a human cop no less, is responsible for her being stuck in a small hick town and forced into a human anger-management group that’s crazier than her. To make matters worse, his dangerous blue eyes and hard body leave her breathless and ready to rumble, and his overbearing attitude is a challenge a demoness can’t refuse.

Evan O’Connell just wants to enjoy his time out of the military by policing a small town and hopefully pulling cats from trees and helping old ladies cross the street before he succumbs to the disease plaguing him. The last thing he needs is a stunning, too sexy, pain in the butt blonde casing his bank and causing a ruckus everywhere she goes. There’s something different about her that he can’t figure out, and when she offers him immortality in exchange for her freedom, he discovers that isn’t enough. One touch of her, a whirlwind beyond his imagination, and he wants the Vixen to be his forever, as soon as he takes care of the centuries old killers on her tail.

**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you’ll enjoy each one as much as we do.**


vixen an

Download your copy today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2yr3s23
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/vixenrz
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2XlOSBh

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3cWuDki


Meet Rebecca

Rebecca-4

Rebecca Zanetti is the author of over fifty romantic suspense and dark paranormal romances, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. The New York Times reviews has found that in her books, “humor surfaces in even the tensest moments, giving the high-stakes drama humanity and warmth.” She lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her own Alpha hero, two kids, a couple of dogs, a crazy cat…and a huge extended family. She believes strongly in luck, karma, and working her butt off…and she thinks one of the best things about being an author, unlike the lawyer she used to be, is that she can let the crazy out.

Connect with Rebecca
Facebook: https://bit.ly/2ZdxNeO
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2BUBA8a
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3eejUl8
Bookbub: https://bit.ly/3gHE4W1
Website: https://bit.ly/3gVd6uv


For More information about 1001 Dark Nights Visit
Facebook: https://bit.ly/37fl0uT
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2Y7uBQp
Website: https://bit.ly/2AIIr3A
Stay up to date on all 1001 Dark Nights releases, join their mailing list today! https://bit.ly/2zgxaHu


NEW RELEASE – Hate The Player by Max Monroe

Hate the Player (official 9x6)

I hate him.

I want him.

He’s a jerk.

A player.

Addicting.

Trouble.

Hate the Player, a slow burn and hilarious romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!

“Roses are red, violets are blue, stay away from Andrew Watson’s *ahem* because no other women ever do.”

That’s quite the way to start a conversation at a casual lunch, huh? Grilled chicken, French fries, and pelvic-fatigue, oh my!

And that’s not even the worst of it.

My friend Raquel didn’t pull any punches when she warned me about my brand-new co-star and his notoriously player-esque ways. Apparently, my most important mission on my first role in a feature film is to stay immune to his charms.

Are you kidding me? Production costs on this movie are in the hundreds of thousands a day, and staying away from a panty-whispering, vajayjay-charmer is supposed to be at the top of my list? Pfft. Puh-lease.

It doesn’t matter that he’s annoyingly attractive, uber rich, crazy famous, and lusted after by ninety percent of the female population; Andrew Watson is trouble with a capital T—especially for a woman like me.

As a preventative measure, I’ve decided to go ahead and hate him.

Don’t worry, you guys, I’m completely in control. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to do something stupid like fall in love with him.

I can hate the player but still secretly love his addictive game.

I’m sure of it.


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Download your copy today or read for Free on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2C7tklj

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HateThePlayer

Add Hate the Player to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2ZLb2y4


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Excerpt

Birdie

True to my name, I’m about to take fucking flight. At least, I would if I could.

In this moment, it really would have been helpful if my trainer hadn’t successfully eliminated all the extra flappy meat on my upper arms. Surely, if I got them going fast enough, the wind beneath those bat wings could have carried me up and through the ceiling of this place.

C’mon, you big baby, I coach myself. You can do this.

One cavernous breath into my lungs and then another and another, and eventually, just before my vision turns tunneled, I will my feet to move away from the door.

Gleaming marble floors, golden statues, and a freaking fountain in the center, the lobby of Capo Brothers Studios is everything I should have expected and more.

If everything is bigger in Texas, then everything is most certainly richer in LA.

I check in with security quickly, my voice only a little croaky thanks to the frog in my throat, and head for the elevator bank at the far side of the lobby.

I’m to head to the fifteenth floor, I’m told, and then go straight down the hall to the glass doors on the left at the end. There, I’ll find William Capo’s office—the head honcho and only surviving brother of Capo Brothers.

My cowgirl boots are noisy on the marble floors when I do as instructed. The sound you make when you walk is such a small detail—one I don’t normally think about—but the echo of their clack today makes my heart feel like it’s knocking into my rib cage and each step across the ornate floor is merely a sound effect.

Fifteen floors eclipse quickly—clearly, they’ve spared no expense on their elevator—and the hallway that leads to William’s office seems strangely one-directional. Like once I go down it—once I take this step—there will be no going back. Which is probably why, after forcing myself to go the distance to the end, I pause at the open door, the points of my booted toes just shy of crossing the line.

“Good morning.” A pretty assistant dressed in a white power suit greets me before I’ve even cleared the threshold of the door, and all thoughts of escape are dashed. Like it or not, I’ve just been shoved over the line. I will my feet to do the same as she continues to speak. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Birdie Harris,” I answer and have to swallow hard against the dryness threatening to close my throat. “I have an audition.”

My nerves are so obvious, the assistant offers a sympathetic smile.

If she were from my childhood hometown in West Virginia, she’d most likely be thinking Bless her heart.

She taps something across the keyboard of her iMac and places her hand to the Bluetooth at her ear. “Mr. Capo, I have Birdie Harris here.” Immediately, she looks away from the computer and meets my eyes. “They’ll be ready for you shortly. You can take a seat over there.” She points behind me, back through the door and across the hall to what I’m assuming is a fancy-schmancy waiting room of some sort. I haven’t encountered a place in the building that doesn’t have some sort of gilded or marble inlay, so I highly doubt I’m going to step through that door and into a room styled by the set designer for Saw. Though, I can’t say some sort of torture device wouldn’t be completely misplaced right now. I’m already doing a pretty good job of mentally waterboarding myself with worry.

I offer a little nod, keeping my twisted, sicko thoughts to myself. I doubt they’re interested in hiring a woman on the brink of a hysterical episode.

The secretary quirks a brow, and I realize, though I’ve nodded my affirmation of understanding, I’ve yet to move.

Good God, Birdie! Go sit down.

Annoyed with myself, I turn on my boots and march across the hall so violently, it’s like there’s an invisible person helping me along with a heavy hand at the nape of my neck.

When I cross into the room, a man is sitting on a swanky leather sofa with his booted feet up on the coffee table. He glances up briefly before returning his eyes to the phone in his lap. Embarrassed, I smooth my clomps instantly.

You’re a gazelle, Birdie, not a herd of buffalo, I coach. Move like it.

With his attention occupied, I survey him more closely as I move to take a seat across from him. He’s wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and his jawline would make steel beams look weak. Seriously. Confronted with an earthquake, I would seek shelter right under the eave of his jaw.

I’d love to get another peek at his eyes just to study the color, but fearing the eye contact that would require, I’m careful not to make any overt noises that might draw his attention again.

When he smirks, a devilish proposition-like smile at the screen of his phone, I don’t have to wonder anymore.

Oh no. I know exactly who this man is.

Andrew Watson.

The very man Rocky warned me about and I subsequently Instagram stalked. A laundry list of different women dotted through his timeline, it confirmed everything Rocky told me and then some.

All relaxed and cool, he sits on the white leather sofa with one arm outstretched across the back. Confidence and charm ooze from every freaking cell in his body. No doubt, Andrew Watson is more than capable of commanding the attention of everyone in the room, no matter the situation.

No wonder he’s one of Hollywood’s most famous actors.

The only time I have that kind of quiet confidence is when I’m onstage, singing my songs, lost in the music I created.

Just play it cool, Birdie.

On a deep breath, I force the uncertainty and unease out of my shoulders and settle my ass into the sofa across from him. He shifts again, crossing one ankle over the other and casually adjusting the denim at his crotch.

My eyes are immediately drawn to his bulge, and thanks to Rocky’s colorful descriptions of his favorite appendage, a little penis-shaped soldier is burned in my brain. After a few seconds of imagining the shape of his helmet and intensity of his salute, I jerk my gaze away in a panic.

Jesus. As if this audition wasn’t screwing with my head enough! Now I have Saving Ryan’s Privates, a military-themed porno my head just made up starring Staff Sergeant Dick Richardson, complicating things even more!

I must make a noise I don’t realize—the sound of my saliva gurgling in my throat while I choke on it, perhaps—because Andrew looks at me with curious eyes. I try like hell to keep my calm and act like I haven’t just gone to mental war with the soldier in his pants, but there’s only so much hysteria containment my mind is capable of.

“Uh…hi,” I say, trying so dang hard not to glance back down at his crotch that I start spewing diarrhea of the mouth about goddamn military-themed movies. “I never saw A Few Good Men, but I hear Tom Cruise was good in it.” When I realize what I’ve just said makes absolutely no sense to him—punctuated perfectly by his eyebrows drawing together noticeably—the gurgling saliva turns into a full-blown choke, and suddenly, the only way to breathe is through a hacking cough.

Holy shit, I’m too anxious to be around other humans right now! Also, I’m going to kill Rocky for putting this crap in my head about this guy’s penis.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I hold up my hand in some kind of gesture. I’m not sure of its technical name, but its meaning is clear—please forget I exist right now.

He asks me once more, but I nod, and once the embarrassing coughing fit passes, I meet his piercingly gray-blue eyes—seeing their color is strikingly unavoidable now—and I offer a halfhearted smile.

“Sorry,” I apologize. I didn’t mean to drag him into an impromptu SNL sketch where I choke on spit and say ridiculously inappropriate, off-the-wall things. “I guess you could say I’m a little nervous.”

His responding smile gleams so bright, I have to wonder if he has an endorsement deal with Crest toothpaste. His mouth would make a dental hygienist get on their hands and knees and thank the Lord above.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s no need to be nervous around me,” he responds, punctuating his words with a wink.

If my mind were a screenplay, the nerves would be exiting stage left.

Did he seriously just wink at me after assuming that I’m nervous to be in his presence?

Surely, I’m hearing this wrong. No one is that obsessed with themselves…right?

“Excuse me?” I ask, and his megawatt smile is still ever-present.

“If you’d like me to sign an autograph or take a selfie with you,” he enunciates slowly, as if my being able to understand him clearly was the problem. “I can probably sneak that in before I have to head in there.”

His autograph? You have got to be kidding me. He sure is a cocky bastard—and for the first time today, I’m not even talking about his dick.

Like the tip of a match being swiped across the edge of a matchbook, aggravation bursts into my veins.

“I’m here for an audition,” I assert.

Unfazed, he quirks a brow as if to say, my invitation for an autograph still stands.

Attractive or not, this guy is one of the biggest asses I’ve ever been around.

“I’m Birdie Harris. I’m auditioning for the role of Arizona Lee.”

And I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna land this acting gig just to spite this prick.


About Max Monroe

A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.

Connect with Max Monroe

BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK

Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS

Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW

Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau

Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/


NEW RELEASE – More Than Dare You (More Than Words series) by Shayla Black

06 MTDY eCover highres (2)

When her past collides with my desired future, can I risk everything and dare Masey to stay with me forever?

More Than Dare You, an all-new must-read single dad romance with all the heat from New York Times bestselling author Shayla Black, is available now!

Blurb:

I dared her to spend a hot, no-strings night with me. Now I’m determined to keep her forever.

I’m Trace Weston, recently reformed womanizer. In the blink of an eye, I went from busy bachelor to full-time single dad. My life was already complicated before my sister-in-law asked me to show off my bedroom skills to her bestie, who’s wanting to experience real pleasure now that her one-and-only long-term relationship is over. Gorgeous Masey Garrett isn’t my “usual.” She’s shy, sassy, driven, and incredibly kind. Suddenly I’m falling fast…but she’s only mine for a night.

What’s a former player to do? Change the rules.

Now she’s under my roof night after night, letting me into her body and her life. Her heart? Not so much. She loves my newborn son. Me? I can’t tell. I’m pulling out all the stops to win her over, but she’s not taking me seriously. Other than passion, how can I reach her? Every attempt only pulls me deeper under her spell. Sure, I could drop an L bomb…except that once imploded my heart. But when her past collides with my desired future, can I risk everything and dare Masey to stay with me forever?


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Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2YZZYOP
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3fL4Tcd
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/dareyou
Nook: https://bit.ly/2WXgM6k
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3bobc2c
Google Play: https://bit.ly/2yTBnR8
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2YVGZ86

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3bwntS4


Excerpt:

“Let’s just let it happen.”

“I’ve never been good at that.”

Because she’s never had the chance; Thom didn’t make it possible. I have a feeling that she’s tried to fantasize her way into the experience she wanted with her ex—and failed. Her anxiety is an unspoken ache bleeding between us. I feel her wondering… What will she do if I can’t give her what she craves? If she’s not capable of feeling real pleasure and she has to face the fact she’s been blaming her ex all this time?

And underneath her worries lies a yearning I can’t resist. Not for me specifically…but if I do everything right, is there any chance it could be? Is it at all possible she wakes up tomorrow and wants me to stay longer?

What the… Why am I thinking this shit? She’s only here for a couple of weeks while she puts her ex behind her enough to date her new neighbor. Masey and I have nothing beyond tonight. I need to remember that.

But she’s in my head and under my skin. Sure, I’m attracted. But this is…different.

It feels like more.

“I have no doubt you’re better than you think,” I finally say as I cradle her cheek and slowly slide my fingers around her nape, curling the tips along the soft column. “But let me help you. Tonight, tell me everything you think. If something I do feels good, say so. If it doesn’t, I want to hear that, too.”

She licks her lips again, and at the thought of her tongue on my skin, I feel my knees start to buckle. “You do?”

Masey breathes the question like she’s not sure whether to believe me. I do my best to give her a reassuring smile when what I really want is to strip her bare, kiss her breathless, then rake my lips all over her body and focus on the parts that will make her sigh and moan and ultimately scream.

“Yeah.”

“You won’t feel criticized?”

“Positive.”

“All right. I will.”

“Good. Last chance.”

“To back out?” She shakes her head. “No. I-I want this.”

“This?” I know what she’s getting at. I have every intention of being the most accommodating lover she’s ever imagined. But I’m going to be an absolute bastard about one thing: she can’t just want sex. I’ve hardly touched her and I already know that’s not enough for me anymore.

“I want you,” she admits softly, sending my triumph spiking. “It feels incredibly intimate to admit that. I barely know you and I already want you so much I don’t understand…”

My fingers tighten on her nape as I start to lean in. “Same, honey. I want you, too. Now stop talking so I can kiss you.”

She braces herself by clutching my shoulders. Her palms are like ghosts, barely whispering over my shirt. But her fingers dig into me, as if she can’t quite keep her anxiety and her need to herself. “Oh, god.”

“It’s going to be good, Masey. I promise.”

I have no doubt about that.

She stops breathing again. Her eyes slide shut. She tilts her face up to me. Without her heels, she’s a tiny thing. I bend closer, closer, watching her lips softly purse.

My heart chugs. My blood races through my veins, searing muscle and skin. My cock, which has been hard since we met, turns unbearably stony as I inhale her scent. The beach clings to her—salt and wind and something sweet that’s purely her.

What if I’ve been looking at the wrong kind of woman my whole life? What if everything I’ve been seeking is now right in front of me?


About Shayla

ShaylaBlack

Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of nearly eighty novels. For over twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.

Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.

Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.

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COVER REVEAL – Drive Me Wild by Melanie Harlow

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Sometimes, love is just an accident waiting to happen.

Drive Me Wild, an all-new sexy, opposites-attract romance about finding love when you least expect it by USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is releasing August 24th, and we have the smoking hot cover!

DriveMeWild AMAZON (1)

When Blair Beaufort literally crashes into Bellamy Creek wearing a ball gown and a tiara, I should have towed her car, said goodnight, and sent her packing.

I’m a mechanic, not a hotel manager. I’ve got enough on my plate trying to keep my shop from going under, my overbearing mother off my back, and my baseball team in contention for the league championship. I don’t have time for a former debutante with zero street smarts and a cash flow problem, even if she is crazy beautiful.

Problem is, she’s stranded in my small town, and I’m hiding a protective streak underneath my broody exterior that runs deep. So I offer her a place to stay and keep my hands to myself.

For exactly one night.

If only she weren’t so gorgeous. So funny. So eager to please. She’s a disaster behind the wheel, but she drives me wild without even trying–at work, at home, in the back of my truck . . . I can’t get enough of the way she makes me feel.

But I know better than to think it can last. She wants a fairy tale, and I’m no prince.

So when it comes time for her to leave, there’s nothing I can do but let her go.

No matter how much it hurts to say goodbye.


DMW - PO

Pre-order your copy today!
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Cover Designer: Hang Le
Model: Chad Hurstt
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster

Keep reading for a sneak peek of DRIVE ME WILD!

Chapter One

Griffin

A watched pot never boils, but a watched mechanic will.

I don’t remember how old I was when I first heard my dad say it, but damn if he wasn’t right. There was nothing worse than a hoverer, and old man Dodson was a serial offender.

“Are you sure you need to hit that so hard?”

Clench jaw. Count to three. “Yes.”

“Is that really the right way to do it?”

Take a breath. Don’t throw things. “Yes.”

“Are you going to be done soon?”

Not if you keep standing there asking me stupid questions.

Want more? Continue reading to check out the first chapter of Drive Me Wild: https://bit.ly/3fDjO76


About Melanie

Harlow Headshot Color
USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like Schitt’s Creek, Homeland, and Fleabag. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the CLOVERLEIGH FARMS series, the ONE & ONLY series, AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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Website: www.melanieharlow.com


BLOG TOUR – Wild Night by Mari Carr

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Wild Night, an all-new frenemies-to-lovers romance, guaranteed to bring the heat from New York Times bestselling author Mari Carr is available now!

Wild Night Ebook copy (1)

He never realized the woman of his dreams is his lifelong frenemy…

After a few too many drinks at a Halloween party, Kelli spends the night in the arms of a man who rocks her world. However, when she learns her mystery Mr. Right is Mr. Hell No, Colm Collins, she’s ready to run for the hills. He’s more than a confirmed bachelor and highly regarded lawyer–not to mention the best sex of her life.

He’s also her least favorite person alive.

But Colm refuses to accept just one wild night with her. He wants them all–and this sexy man plays dirty.


Wild Night - AN (1)

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Excerpt

“Well, I guess I should—”

“Invite me up.” There wasn’t a hint of request in his words, so of course, it tweaked Kelli just enough that she’d deny herself what she wanted—him in her bed tonight—just to put the man in his place.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Though the two of them had gone out for dinner a couple of nights this week, they’d met at the restaurants and managed to not talk about Halloween or that fucking hot as hell interlude in the bathroom last Sunday.

“Kell,” he said, his gaze heated…hungry. “Invite me up. Now.”

“You know,” she said, turning away from him, not surprised when he followed, “it would serve you right if I sent you packing, you cocky bastard.

“But then you’d suffer too.”

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he could see her rolling her eyes. “I’d hardly suffer. You’re not that—”

Colm cut her words off with a firm smack on the ass. “You go to hell for lying, Kell.” And then, to punctuate that, he smacked her again.

“Ouch,” she said through clenched teeth, trying not to recall how he’d done the same thing the night of Halloween and how much she’d fucking loved it. She punched in the code to her apartment building and led him inside.

“That was just a warm-up,” he warned.

He’d certainly warmed up her ass, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Or how much she wanted him to make it burn.


About Mari Carr

Maripic (1)

Virginia native Mari Carr is a New York Times and USA Today bestseller of contemporary romance novels. With over one million copies of her books sold, Mari was the winner of the Romance Writers of America’s Passionate Plume award for her novella, Erotic Research. She has over a hundred published works, including her popular Wild Irish and Compass books, along with the Trinity Masters series she writes with Lila Dubois.

Connect with Mari

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Website: https://maricarr.com/


NEW RELEASE – Hooked on Her (Ice Kings) by Stacey Lynn

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“Stacey Lynn’s hockey heroes bring all the sexy and swoon!”
– Mira Lyn Kelly, USA Today bestselling author

Hooked on Her, an all-new steamy and swoon-worthy forbidden sports romance from Stacey Lynn, is available now!

HookedOnHer-IceKings-ebook

Tessa Chauncy is the best kind of trouble. Beautiful, sweet and completely off limits. I’ve sat by and watched other men drool after her and forced myself to stay in check. Hey, I’m in the NHL… I have self-control in spades.

Except when it comes to her.

With the bat of her lashes and quick whip of that sharply pointed tongue Tessa can knock grown men to their knees. I’ve seen them wither and crumble under her confident stare— something I’m pretty sure she learned from sparring with me, thankyouverymuch.

But I’m not just falling for her. I’m down for the count.

She’s the girl I wanted, when wanting her was wrong.
She’s also my new roommate–
And oh yeah, my best friend’s little sister.

Heaven help me, I’m probably going to get his fist to my face or his hockey stick shoved in very dangerous places for what I’m about to do, but I don’t think I care anymore.

I’m in love with my best friend’s little sister….and I’m done waiting.


HOH - AN

Download your copy today!

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Meet the Author:

Stacey Lynn 2019

Stacey Lynn likes her coffee with a dash of sugar, her heroes with a side of bossy, and her wine a deep shade of red.

The author of over thirty romance novels, many of which have been best-selling titles on Amazon, AppleBooks, and Barnes & Noble, she loves being able to turn her vivid imagination into a career that brings entertainment and joy to her readers. Focused on sports romance and emotional, small-town romance, she also loves stretching herself in different genres.

Born in Texas and raised in the Midwest, she now makes her home in North Carolina and loves all things Southern. Together with her ultimate tall, dark, and handsome hero, she has four children. Her life is a chaotic mess that fights with her Type-A, list-making, neurotically organized preferences and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Connect with Stacey:

Facebook: http://bit.ly/379Te19
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BLOG TOUR: Winning Hollywood’s Goodest Girl by Max Monroe

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A baby on the way first.
Then love and marriage?
It’s complicated on its best day.

Winning Hollywood’s Goodest Girl, an all-new not-to-be-missed, surprise baby romantic comedy standalone by New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!

WHGG Official cover 6x9 (2)

Raquel and Harrison sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
First comes love.
Then comes marriage.
Then comes a baby in the baby carriage.

That’s how her brother used to sing it when we were kids—a simple ploy to get under my skin and make me stick my fist in his face—but man oh man, did he get the order wrong.

One night of “kissing” in New York catapulted us straight to the pregnancy portion of the song—surprise!—and now I have to figure out how to carry out the whole melody in reverse.

A baby on the way first.
Then love and marriage?
It’s complicated on its best day.

But our situation is far more problematic than just a simple twist of nursery rhyme lyrics. Before our night together, Raquel Weaver was the best-known good girl in Hollywood—a twenty-nine-year-old sexpot virgin whom the world adored and watched like a hawk.

Obviously, the consequences of that kind of reputation don’t just go away. Add in pregnancy hormones, the media, a fake fiancé, and a selfish manager, and you have the short list of my problems.

As a thirty-four-year-old, successful CFO of a multibillion-dollar media conglomerate, I thought I would be able to handle anything show business could throw my way, but I’m starting to think I might be in over my head.

Good thing I’m all in.
Winning Hollywood’s goodest girl is going to take everything I’ve got.


WHGG - AN

Download your copy today exclusively on Amazon or read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
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Excerpt

Harrison

Never cry over spilled milk.

That’s what my mom always said, but I have to admit, until today, I never paid it much attention. As a kid, I spilled shit all the time. Milk. Juice. Water. If it was liquid, I was splattering it all over fucking creation.

Our mop got a lot of action, sure, but every time, my mom would simply laugh. Not a little, demure giggle, but big, uproarious belly laughing. Ellie Hughes thought life was made for living, and she’d be damned if she let me dwell in the valleys. Hell, maybe that’s why I was always wreaking havoc on all of our flooring—my accidents were a precursor to something upbeat.

Anyway, I haven’t thought much about all those puddles of laughter in a long time.

But today is proof positive: my mom—well, she was a teacher way ahead of her time.

Cereal poured and the financial section of the New York Times in hand, I make my way to my circular, glass kitchen table and take a seat that faces the TV.

Hello, Today!, the syndicated fluff show during the eight o’clock hour on TBC, prattles on about the perfect Christmas breakfast for a family of four while an obnoxious elf bounces around in the background. I roll my eyes as some celebrity—fuck if I know who it is—pretends to know how to make frittatas and turn my eyes back to the paper.

Growing up, television was forbidden fruit in my childhood home. My hard-ass of a dad thought it was more important to read the Wall Street Journal and understand the stock market than watch what he called drivel. He was one of those top 1% people, and his power-wealthy position in life included uber-rich hedge funds, strategic million-dollar stock market swing trades, and a money-hungry mind-set.

The only time the one television—I’m serious, one fucking TV—in our home was actually used, it revolved around big news conglomerates and State of the Union addresses by current presidents.

But despite the old man’s eccentric views on television and movies and normal people’s forms of entertainment, I can’t deny that learning about the stock market at an early age and being forced to understand things like the global economy and trade deals has served beneficial in adulthood.

My morning routine normally synchronizes beautifully for an all-out news download before heading to the office. But today, because of a late dinner meeting last night and too many Christmas-themed cocktails that have nothing to do with the holly-sprig adorned ones on TV, I’m running behind schedule.

The great news is, as CFO of one of the largest media conglomerates in the world, I’m actually allowed to do that on occasion without getting docked on my time card. In fact, I haven’t seen an actual time card in ages. The only punching I do is at Tommy John’s Kickboxing on Wednesdays in a basement studio all the way over on 75th and Broadway.

In the interest of full punching disclosure: I suck at it. Mohammad Ali in training, I am not. But flab is real, friends, even for the studly men in your life, and punching a bag with little to no precision keeps the excess weight off me. In layman’s terms, it keeps the ladies from grabbing on to anything other than muscle in bed.

Ha.

Scratch that last line. They grab my dick; I didn’t mean to make it sound like they don’t. There’s actually more penile touching than any other kind of touching in the cottony comfort of my sheets, and I’m very good at touching the ladies, in turn, with my mouth and penis. In fact, when my dick hears the words dick pic, it asks for photo credit because it was most certainly the one taking the picture.

Okay, maybe I’ve gotten a little carried away, but my point is the same.

What I meant to imply was that they don’t grab on to a beer gut—and trust me, if I didn’t work out, they would. I love beer and chicken wings, and I indulge in them both on way too many occasions to maintain some kind of quota weight “naturally.” If it weren’t for all the strenuous, practically nightly kickboxing workouts, if I were a woman in the public eye, I would be a constant ludicrous headline for my “fluctuating waistline.”

Thankfully, I am trim, toned, and able to binge on buffalo wings whenever the fuck I want.

My cell vibrates across the table, and I snag it off the glass surface to see Incoming Call Cap flashing on the screen.

I sigh at the idea of listening to Caplin Hawkins’s bullshit before I’ve finished my first cup of coffee, but I answer it despite my better judgment.

“Harrison, you sly motherfucker, those stock tips you gave me last quarter have my portfolio growing green like I’m a damn cannabis farmer.” He forgoes a greeting and dives straight into what is most likely his selfish needs. “Should I be concerned you’re getting insider info?”

“Wow, it’s so great to hear from you too, bud.” I smirk and lick my finger to get traction on the thin paper and flip through the pages until I get to yesterday’s closing data for the Dow Jones and S&P 500. Quickly, I scan through the numbers. It’s only one week away from Christmas and a few weeks away from New Years’, and this month’s upward trend appears fairly optimistic for avoiding a choppy close to the year.

“Yesterday, HawCom was up five-fucking-percent. Seriously, dude, are you dragging me and my father’s company into some illegal bullshit?” he asks, and I look away from my newspaper to roll my eyes.

HawCom is the company I’ve been with for the past decade, and it just so happens to be owned by Cap’s father, Jared Hawkins. Financial management for a company of its scale has been tricky these days with the ongoing uncertainty of the market, but all in all, HawCom’s performance numbers have been stable and steadily growing for the last nine quarters. As a major media company with “silent” ownership in some of the world’s most relevant technology companies, it’s not completely unexpected, but it’s certainly not guaranteed.

“Is it difficult being the most ridiculous bastard on the planet?” I retort. “Because, fuck, I can imagine it gets hard coming up with new ways to be this insane.”

Despite this idiot’s stupid question, everything I do is by the book. No insider trading. No fraud. It all comes from a mind that’s been trained since childhood to be strategic and understand economic patterns.

And even if I shouldn’t, for the state of my motivation to maintain a certain work ethic, I do allow myself to take a little credit for HawCom’s success. I’ve been charged with a large job due to my leadership role in the company, but I cherish the opportunity. It’d be hard not to with an uncharacteristically kind and charismatic boss like Jared at the helm.

And for the last four months, I’ve made it a point to cherish everything.

See, I choose to be happy every day.

I choose gratitude and intention in my every action.

I choose the way my life plays out—all of us do.

It took me more than three busy, painful decades and the loss of both parents to figure that out, but now that I have, the freedom in it is impressive.

The truth is, until we die, all of us get to choose our own destiny—

“I swear to God,” Cap grumbles. “I will end you if I wind up in some kind of high-security prison for stock fraud.”

I laugh at the absurdity. “I help you grow your portfolio—without commission, mind you—and you’re threatening murder?”

“Are you deflecting, son?” he questions, always the fucking lawyer. “Because I swear on every-damn-thing, I will—”

“Relax.” I snort. “The only thing illegal about the stock tips I gave you was the fact that I handed them to you on a silver-fucking-platter without asking for anything in return.”

“Speaking of handing shit to me on a silver platter, let’s do that again,” he says, a cunning smile apparent in his voice. “Who is looking profitable for the first quarter of next year?”

“And why should I give you anything, you prick?”

“Because you love me. Because you don’t want to see me become a vagabond, living on the streets.”

“You’re one of the most successful corporate lawyers in North America who already has some of the world’s best advisers handling his money. I’m pretty sure a lack of financial investment advice from me isn’t going to break your bank.”

“Minor details.” He chuckles. “C’mon, dude. Help your best friend and his sweet, lovely, beautiful wife out.”

“Now you’re bringing Ruby into this?” I tsk. “For shame.”

“You and I both know, shameless or not, I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want,” he retorts, and I laugh outright.

“Are you wanting stock tips or to get me into bed? Because, truthfully, it feels like it could go either way at this point.”

Of course, he doesn’t miss a fucking beat. “I’ll even toss in a candlelit dinner and champagne if that’s what it’s going to take.”

Just for the sake of ending this insanity, I start to open my mouth with a few companies that are worthy of investments in the upcoming quarter, but a shrill voice on the screen of the TV steals my attention. I wouldn’t normally refer to any woman’s voice as shrill because I find it incredibly sexist and demeaning, but I’m telling you, for the sake of painting an accurate description, this particular voice, regardless of its bearer’s gender, is like the distress call of a wounded rabbit. I couldn’t miss it if I were in an underground bunker with six feet of sound-dampening dirt between us. And somehow, somehow, she still made it on TV.

“Thanks, Chris,” she continues, her voice still painful to my ears. “Today is anything but business as usual in sunny Southern California. It seems, folks, that the impossible has happened. Hollywood is abuzz this morning with the most infamous immaculate conception since the Virgin Mary herself.”

My eyebrows pinch together at the ridiculous drivel as I lift the spoon to my mouth. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph must be rolling over in their graves.

“Twenty-nine-year-old famed virgin sexpot, Raquel Weaver, was photographed leaving Beverly Hills Obstetrics today with a noticeable bump front and center on her normally trim figure.”

Brakes squeal to a stop inside my head.

What the fuck? Did she just say Raquel Weaver?

I gape at the television, trying to make sense of why that name of all names just came out of Screechy’s mouth, but the instant a photograph pops up on the screen and all-too-familiar violet eyes stare back at me, I have my fucking answer.

Holy shit. It’s her.


About Max Monroe

A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.

Connect with Max Monroe

BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh
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Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/


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