I’m a heroin addict. A junkie. A whore. I’ll do anything to get my next fix.
Anything.
Including walking right onto the property of Austin’s most ruthless and feared drug lord to beg for some H. I don’t know his name, only that people call him Boss. Oh, and that he won’t think twice to put a bullet in my head.
But like I said, I’ll do anything to get my next fix. Even if it costs me my life.
Or changes it forever.
Excerpt #1
Boss gives Miri a hit
Despite Miri’s disgusting appearance, her nasty addiction to heroin, and the fact that her maybe-boyfriend had been stealing from me to feed her habit, I felt responsible for her. It was my shit she got hooked on, and she just seemed… frail and in need of someone to take care of her. It was almost as if she were sent here as penance for my past failures to take care of my mom and sister.
Besides, Miri intruded on my property. She knew where I lived. I couldn’t just toss her out. It was highly unlikely, but she could call the cops and get them down here with a warrant in the blink of an eye.
Better to get her dosed up and calmed down before trying to talk.
“Jase,” I barked.
One of my men immediately appeared at my side. “Yes, Boss.”
“Bring me the kit.”
With a sharp nod, he left the room and reappeared in less than two minutes to hand me a small zippered pouch. “Here you go, Boss.”
“All of you leave,” I ordered as I began prepping the kit. One by one, I lined the items up on the table, in the order I would need them. Everyone obeyed my command but one.
“Boss, come on…”
“Milo, don’t push me any further tonight.” I turned to give my lieutenant a dark stare that said don’t fuck with me. He better not press his thoughts in front of a stranger.
Milo’s lips pressed tight as he struggled to keep his mouth shut and follow my orders. Nothing new from the big, strong-willed man. He was very opinionated at times. Tense and agitated, Milo gave in and agreed. “Fine. I’m going home then, Boss.”
“See you in the morning.” I dismissed Milo and returned my attentions to the sweaty, gross, trembling girl in my kitchen.
Using an alcohol pad, I wiped my hands to kill any germs. Then I picked up a tiny packet of white powder, careful not to spill any, and poured it into a spoon designed to lie on a flat surface without tilting. The rubber tourniquet was long compared to Miri’s razor-thin arm. I knotted it around the tiny limb, holding back a pained grimace at touching her filthy skin. When I glanced up to check on her, I found Miri watching intently. I blinked and tore my gaze away from those wide green eyes to search for a vein. There wasn’t a single usable one on her scar-riddled arm.
“Shit,” I muttered when an inspection of her other arm turned up the same.
“I-I use my feet.” Miri’s voice was so soft I nearly missed her response.
Caught in the sliver of emerald in those captivating eyes, it took me a minute to reply.
“All right.” I removed the tourniquet, put it around a slender ankle, and placed her left foot on the floor to get better blood flow to the extremity. A single bluish vein stood out, surrounded by a half-dozen faded and fresh track marks. “There it is.” I grabbed another alcohol pad and swabbed the area. Syringe in hand, I uncapped a vial of sterile water and drew up a small amount, adding it to the powered opiate in the spoon. Using a lighter, I cooked the drugs until the mixture was reduced to a clear, bubbling liquid. As I waited for the chemicals to cool, Miri became frantic.
“I-It’s okay. I c-can take it hot. Really. I-I don’t mind. Please…”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not safe. You could blow a vein or worse.”
“I don’t care! Give it to me.” She started to struggle in the chair, in danger of tipping it over again.
Fed the fuck up with today’s events and bullshit in general, I caught her chin between my thumb and forefingers and pinched hard enough to hold her still.
“Stop this immediately or you’ll get nothing. Listen carefully, because I’m only going to say it once. I’m never, ever hospitable to intruders, so you should consider yourself lucky to still be breathing right now and not being driven to a remote location where no one will ever find your body.”
Those dull eyes widened with fear and her lip trembled. “Okay, okay. I’m g-good. I’ll be good. I’m s-sorry.”
I ripped open another alcohol swab and wiped off my fingers. Filthy junkie. Once the mixture was cool, I drew it up into the syringe using a filtered needle and made sure the air was out.
“Ready?” I’m not sure why I bothered—I knew the answer before the question was asked.
“Yes, please, please, please.” Miri vibrated with anticipation.
Despite the fact I grew up around drugs, despised drug use, watched my family implode from drug addiction and never once allowed anyone to get high in my house or permitted drug use among my employees, I went against everything I believed personally and stuck the needle into the vein on Miri’s foot. I pulled back to watch as dark red blood entered the syringe. With visual confirmation I hit a vein, I removed the tourniquet and slowly injected the opiate into her system until the syringe was empty. Working efficiently, I cleaned up the kit, put the used items in a container for the staff to dispose of, and washed my hands at the sink.
Then I sat down and waited.
*****************
Excerpt #2
Boss forces Miri in the shower to get clean
Fighting the intense, gut-clenching fear, I tightened my grip, using his strong muscles to keep me upright as he washed my feet. The cloth skimmed up my legs one at a time, his hands scrubbing over and over as the foam rinsed away days of dirt and grime. The boss skipped my clothed midsection, straightened to his full height, and repeated the process with my arms, spending extra time on my dirt-caked hands and nails, and the track marks on my arms, only moving on when my skin glowed pink.
Next, he lifted my long red hair off my neck and slid the cloth across the top of my back and shoulders, then around the front to wash the exposed part of my chest where my tank top dipped low. I glanced down as his enormous, bruised and scabbed hands worked over my skin, only then realizing my white tank was completely transparent and I wasn’t wearing a bra. Instinctively, my hands flew up to cover my breasts. He chuckled, a smooth, deep sound so seductive it could easily charm a roomful of people and melt every pair of panties in a five-mile radius.
“A little too late for that, doll. Seein’ as I’ve already got a good look at everything.”
Something about his cocky drawl, the crooked smirk on his face, and that single raised eyebrow felt like a challenge. My courage, boosted by the decadent lull of my best friend, heroin, had me meeting his gaze head-on. Determined to show the boss I wasn’t a cowering scaredy-cat, I fingered the hem, tugged the wet tank over my head, and tossed it to the floor with a loud splat. The man’s eyes widened, which only fueled my desire to make him eat his stupid words. Still staring directly into those sapphire eyes, I stuck my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts and shoved them down, stepped out, and kicked them aside. Completely naked, I stood my ground and raised my own brow in return, hands on my hips.
Our eyes were locked a few more seconds before he threw his head back and burst out laughing. The action made him look years younger than I originally believed. “You are somethin’ else, you know that, doll?”
Instead of answering, I snatched the soapy washcloth from his hand and quickly finished washing my newly exposed skin.
“Here.”
Jerk.
The boss scrambled to catch the cloth I whipped at his chest before turning to storm out of the shower. I yelped when he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me toward him. The blazing heat of his chest was pressed against the bare skin of my back and I trembled from head to toe. The boss held tight and lowered his mouth to my ear.
“First, don’t ever fucking throw shit at me again.” Chills broke out across my skin at his angry threat. “You will not disrespect me in my own house, especially after I fucking took you in instead of killing you the second you set foot on my property. Got it?” When I didn’t answer, he squeezed my upper arms until I whimpered.
“Y-yes. I get it.” I struggled to keep from screaming out of pure terror. What was I thinking? Mouthing off to a drug lord while naked in his shower and a house full of his goons one floor below. I couldn’t possibly be more vulnerable.
After digging his fingers in for another long moment to prove he was in charge, the boss released me and spun me around as he picked up another bottle. “Your hair is fucking disgusting. It needs to be washed.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste and once more, shame flooded me with heat. This man had a way of making me feel as though I was less than human. He held out the bottle, shaking it in my face. “Either you do it, or I do, doll. But you’re not getting out of here until you’ve cleaned the junkie stench off.”
The backs of my eyes stung and my face caught fire. I couldn’t look at him as I took the bottle and poured some shampoo into a shaky hand. He washed himself quickly then stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest as I lathered my hair and rinsed off under the spray.
“Again,” he demanded. I bit my lip to keep from telling him to fuck off and did as I was told.
When the last suds swirled down the drain, the boss was silent as he reached around me and cut off the water. He carefully folded the washcloth, laid it on the edge of the sink, and stepped out of the shower enclosure. He handed me a towel, and picked one up for himself. I tried not to watch as he rubbed the fluffy white cloth over all of those tan muscles, but it was futile. Staring, I was mesmerized by the sight as the boss wrapped the towel around his waist and shucked his wet briefs from underneath. I gulped, knowing he was now naked beneath the soft terrycloth, a mere foot away.
When the silence became uncomfortable, I clutched my own towel to my chest, dug up what little courage I had left, and turned to face him with a huff. “We showered together and I don’t even know your name.”
He quirked that damn eyebrow again and smiled, white teeth gleaming in the middle of his dark designer stubble. If I didn’t know he was a widely feared drug lord and a pushy, high-handed, scary motherfucker, I’d find his expression almost charming.
“Boss.”
“I know you’re The Boss, I want to know your name.”
“My name is Boss,” he repeated. “Or Boss Man. Either one works.” As if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if forcing unwilling women into a shower were an everyday occurrence, he shrugged and brushed a hand through his wet hair.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.” This guy was so damn frustrating. He shot me up with H, dumped me in the shower, humiliated me, washed me, but wouldn’t tell me his name. Whatever. I turned my back to him.
Big mistake.
Two large hands wrapped around my shoulders, and I was jerked back against his body once more. Both of us were currently clad only in towels, his slung low around his waist and mine tucked under my armpits. There wasn’t as much skin-on-skin contact as in the shower, but this felt much more intimate. Slowly, Boss spun me around to face him, and I had to muffle a frightened cry. His blue eyes were narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring. The transformation from playful to furious was immediate and absolutely terrifying. For the first time since I’d showed up on his lawn, I was truly, without a doubt, scared shitless.
This man, the one in front of me—so different from the man who laughed in the shower—is what I expected from the drug lord I heard rumors about. Horrible rumors of unspeakable acts of violence. A ruthless man to be respected and feared.
Boss pressed the length of his half-naked body against me, and growled, teeth glinting behind curled lips. “That’s the second time you turned your back on me after mouthing off. I’m only going to say this once more, Miri, so listen carefully.” He lowered his head and his breath ghosted across my neck. I shuddered and a whimper escaped my throat, the result of a horrifying combination of lust and fear. “You are my guest. You snuck onto my property and you’re goddamn lucky I didn’t let Milo shoot you on sight. No, I saved you, took your ass in, gave you your fucking heroin, and washed a couple weeks’ worth of filth and scum off of you using my very expensive body wash that, incidentally, I never share with anyone. I expect you to be grateful for my hospitality and treat me with some goddamn motherfucking respect, got it?” His hands tightened around my arms incrementally as he spoke. His message was quite clear as his touch became more and more painful. I knew his thick fingers would leave bruises on my pale, fragile skin.
Legs shaking, I nearly pissed myself when faced with the lethal side of this man.
“I want to hear you say you understand, Miri.” Boss let go and stepped back until his eyes bored holes into me from beneath heavy brows.
Filled with terror, my heart pounded and my breath caught in my lungs, rendering me speechless. His eyes narrowed, not happy with my silence. Somehow, I managed to choke out two words.
Heather C. Leigh is the author of the Amazon best selling Famous series. She likes to write about the ‘dark’ side of fame. The part that the public doesn’t get to see, how difficult it is to live in a fishbowl and how that affects relationships.
Heather was born and raised in New England and currently lives outside Atlanta, GA with her husband, 2 kids, and French Bulldog, Shelby.
She loves the Red Sox, the Patriots, and anything chocolate (but not white chocolate, everyone knows it’s not real chocolate so it doesn’t count) and has left explicit instructions in her will to have her ashes snuck into Fenway Park and sneakily sprinkled all over while her family enjoys beer, hot dogs, and a wicked good time.
My favorite authors are Dan Wells, Ken Follett, and Stephen King.
From New York Times Bestseller Pepper Winters writing as Tess Hunter, comes a sarcastic, sexy standalone full of men with big ‘you know whats’, puppies, pigmy pigs, and swoon-worthy moments. I don’t want to touch it. I really, really don’t. He’s egotistical, crass, and my patient’s owner–which makes him totally off limits. Yep, that’s right. He owns the wiener I’m currently working on. A wiener dog–get your dirty mind out of the gutter. I’ve also worked on his Spoodle, his Cocker-shitzu, and a Cheagle–don’t ask. (And no, it’s not a sexual position). It doesn’t help that he also represents most of my joint-owned veterinary practice’s small clientele. We’d only just opened the doors a few months ago, and in he strode with a yelping Taco Terrier. One haughty look at our sparkling new facilities, he’d demanded royal treatment, even though I was currently finger deep up a squalling tom cat. Ever since then, he expects me to serve him. Any time. All the time. Him and his revolving zoo of dogs. One of these days, I’m going to swat him for being such a pompous ass but I can’t deny the way he handles his charges makes me want to see past the ‘do as I say and don’t ask questions’ barking exterior. But then last week…he caught me staring at his um, cough, package. His bossy commands switched to a cocky smirk. He gave me permission to do something I promised myself I would never ever do. I can touch it. If I want…
Excerpt
“Earth to vet Fairfax.” Ryder waved his hand in front of my face. I jumped, hugging the dog tighter. “What? What happened?” He bit his lip, doing his best not to smile. “You space-cadeted on me again.” He chuckled. “You were looking at my mouth. You weren’t thinking of doing bad things to me again, were you? Because if you were…I can totally help with that.” Yes, please. It would be so easy to nod and let whatever magic between us ignite. But we were at my work. I was supposed to be a mature, composed female. Be that female! My cheeks heated as I dropped my gaze to the Chinese Crested in my arms. “I wasn’t thinking bad things. Not in a bajillion years.” “Bajillion, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of that amount of time.” He came closer, bringing sex and sparks and seduction. “Can I perhaps trade your bajillion and put my own time stamp on it?” I froze as his hand cupped my cheek. My face leaned into him. Damn face. Damn hand. Damn chemistry. “I suppose…” I breathed as his chest strained beneath his grey t-shirt. He was the one seducing me, yet he was just as affected. “What did you have in mind?” His eyes lingered on my lips. “Do something for me and I’ll kiss you right here, right now.” My mental capacity crashed. “Do what?” His eyes burned hot into mine. “It’s a huge, huge favour.” The way he said huge made me think he’d swapped the word favour for cock. I burned up as his thumb grazed my cheekbone. He murmured, “If you did it, I’d do whatever you want.” What, you’d chase me? Pretend to be a policeman and handcuff me? Reach inside my head and be prepared to play with me? My tummy clenched. “What are you proposing I do?” I held the squirming dog as she tried to wriggle into my scrubs, looking for warmth. Not that I could blame her—it was fairly chilly in here with the air conditioning. “You’d do it?” His eyes turned luminous. “For me?” “Yes.” Way to go, Ves. Don’t sound desperate or anything. He smiled. “You’re such a kind, sweet…” His head tilted, bringing his mouth close to mine. His scent of outdoors and timber shot up my nose as he brought me forward, our lips only inches apart. “…amazing woman. I’m so fucking hard for you right now, Vesper.” Dangnamit, everything inside me tightened, melted, swapped ownership and put its hands in the air to flay like idiots over how much I liked this guy. How much I wanted this guy. “Tell me what you want me to do, Ryder.” I licked my lips, almost hyperventilating with how much I needed him to kiss me. “Christ, I love it when you say my name.” His thumb ran over my bottom lip, pulling it down as he pressed the lightest kiss there. “Vesper, I wouldn’t just ask this of any other woman. I’m asking you because you’re so damn incredible.” Ask me what? You want me naked and on all fours? Got it, give me three seconds. You want me to dress up in a nurse’s uniform and look after you instead of the dogs you bring in? Hell yes, get on my table and drop ‘em. I swallowed again. “Spit it out. I need to know.” My heart needed to know before it galloped from my chest and left me a corpse. “Okay, here it goes. Can you, Vesper Fairfax…knit?” Eh… What?! I blinked, wrenching my face from his hold. “What did you just say?” He bit his lip, shaking with mirth. “I asked how skilful you are with two needles and some wool.” “Why? Do you have some crazy fetish you’re trying to admit to?” “I have fetishes, but needles aren’t included.” He couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. “Man, you should see your face.” You should see what you did to my knickers, you jerk.
About the Author
Tess Hunter is the superhero pen name of a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, & USA Today Bestseller who gave up swallowing her one-liners and decided to write them instead. Her libido scares even her and having an outlet to be snarky, stupid, and sexy while cloaked by incognito is the perfect recipe for naughtiness online and in-between the romance pages
The driver began to shout something in Portuguese. The way his finger was wagging, I assumed he was telling the person that the cab was full. But the passenger didn’t listen. Next thing I knew, I was sitting next to someone in the back seat.
Someone wearing a uniform.
Captain Carter Clynes in the flesh.
He turned to face me with a wicked grin on his face. “My layover just got more interesting.”
Damn. He seemed to have grown that stubble overnight.
“How was your flight, Perky? Did you enjoy the ride I gave you?”
“My shirt’s dry. I think you can drop the Perky.”
His eyes lowered to my breasts. Of course, my nipples were standing at full attention since the sheen of sweat on my skin had met the cool air-conditioning inside the cab.
Carter scrubbed his hands over his face. “Damn. You weren’t kidding about those things. I haven’t slept in eighteen hours, and they just woke me up. I think they’re contagious, and I’m fucking perky now.”
“That’s not really an appropriate thing to say to a woman you just met, you know.”
“We didn’t just meet. This is our third date.”
“Third date?”
“I bought you dinner in an elegant restaurant for our first one and took you up for a plane ride for our second one. Those were damn good dates. Some women would kill for that kind of lavishness. Seems fitting date three we should be heading to a hotel.” He winked.
I wasn’t sure if it was the time change, my being tired from restless sleep on the plane, or if it was possible this man could say anything and I wouldn’t be offended. Why am I not I offended?
When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m glad I saw you. Didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
“That might be because you didn’t look for me.”
“I never thought you’d actually take my suggestion and fly to Brazil.”
I mumbled. “Neither did I.”
The cab driver interrupted, looking between us to ask, “You share cab, yes?”
Surprising me, Carter answered. In Portuguese. The language that sounded choppy and frustrating just two minutes ago, suddenly sounded sexy and romantic.
He turned back to me in English. “What hotel are you staying at?”
“I was just trying to figure that out with a little help from Google. Do you have one to recommend?”
“You trust me to pick out where you’ll stay tonight?”
I considered his question for a minute. It was illogical, that much I knew, but I did trust him to pick my hotel. Lord knows why. “I think I do.”
That response earned me another sexy grin that had me more excited than I’d been in the last year.
Almost a half-hour later, we were finally off the highway and traveling into what looked like a residential neighborhood. “Barra da Tijuca.” I read the street sign aloud.
“Very good. I should probably warn you. It’s probably not the type of hotel you’re used to.”
“What does that mean?”
“You look like you’re more of the luxury chain with a spa type of woman, that’s all.”
Even though that was exactly what I’d typed into Google, when he said it that way, it sounded like a bad thing. It made me defensive. “And what’s wrong with a luxury hotel? Sometimes a girl needs a massage and a soak in a nice bathtub while traveling.”
“Well, you certainly won’t be getting either of those where we’re heading.” Carter caught my eye. “Unless I’m the one doing the massaging, that is.”
I blushed, which caused Carter to chuckle. “You really are fucking adorable. I’m not sure what’s sexier, the fact that you’re up for letting me take you on this little adventure, or that you secretly like the thought of me giving you a massage.”
“I do not!” My quick, defensive response only confirmed he was right.
He leaned to me. “Do, too.”
“You’re off base.”
“That’s a shame. I’ve been told I’m really good with my hands.” He held out his hands in front of him, examining them. Big hands. Hands that looked like he used them to do some actual work when he wasn’t flying a plane.
Damn.
We hope you enjoyed this extended preview!
Available for Pre-order on iBooks, Nook and Kobo now!
From the New York Times bestselling authors of Stuck-Up Suit and Cocky Bastard, comes a sexy new standalone novel.
Money or love? Which would you choose? You probably just answered the question in your head thinking it’s an easy decision. For me, it’s not. Did I mention it’s a lot of money? A hell of a lot. I needed to go far away to think it through. As I embarked on an impulsive trip, I hit a detour when I met sexy Carter in the airport lounge. We struck up a heated conversation. Then, he left. I thought I’d never see him again. But fate had other plans. Surprise! He was the pilot of my flight. The bigger surprise was the adventure that followed after the plane landed. Carter was dangerous and always on the move. Even though our connection was magnetic, I knew it was only temporary. He would give me tickets, and I would follow him around the world to exotic places. A bevvy of flight attendant exes and rumors about Carter’s reputation were never far behind. I didn’t know what to believe. But I was addicted. Nothing else mattered anymore. And I was going to get hurt. Because a part of me wanted to be the one to finally ground the playboy pilot. At the very least, he was taking me on a thrilling ride. All good things must come to an end, right? Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.
Meet Penelope
Penelope Wardis a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of eleven novels. Her books have placed on the New York Times bestseller list fourteen times. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 11-year-old girl with autism (the inspiration for the character Callie in Gemini) and a 10-year-old boy. Penelope, her husband and kids reside in Rhode Island.
Vi Keelandis a #1 New York Times and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. With more than a million books sold, her titles have appeared in over fifty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in ten languages. She lives in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six. Author Links
“What do you want?” Her voice was husky as she slid her hands onto his thighs and Dex shivered at her touch. He shrugged. Just looking down at her like this, her face upturned, her long dark hair falling down her naked back, her breasts thrust out and tipped in a golden glow from the television was driving him crazy. “They’re your spoils.” She wet her lips again and it took all Dex’s willpower not to swoop down and crush his mouth on hers. “I want to know.” Dex shook his head. She’d be shocked if she knew the things he wanted to do to her. “Trust me—” he reached his hand out and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t.” She dug the pads of her fingers into his thighs and the sensation streaked straight to his balls, sizzling hot at the base of his spine. “Humour me.” Dex locked his gaze with hers. He could see fever glint in their depths. The kind of fever that heated his blood and stirred deep in the muscles of his inner thighs. She wanted to hear the words… “I want to strip that underwear off you. I want to lay you flat and bury my head between your thighs and stay there until you forget the name of any other man who’s ever gone down on you.” He trailed his fingers along her jaw not trusting himself in this moment to not follow through on what he’d just described. His thumb rubbed at the full soft crescent of her bottom lip. “I want to kiss you until we both can’t breathe. I want to push your gorgeous breasts together and thrust my cock between them until I come all over them. I want to look down and see your mouth around my dick.” Dex sucked in an uneven breath. He was dizzy with the images bombarding his mind, intoxicated by the possibilities, by the things he wanted to do to this woman. With this woman. “I want to turn you upside down and inside out with wanting me. I want to bend you over the arm of this couch and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop. Hell, I want to bend you over every goddamn piece of furniture in this place.” Dex stopped, the breath thick in the back of his throat, as his mind swirled into an abyss of devolving scenarios. Ropes, paddles, wax encrusted nipples. All that fifty shades of grey shit. He wasn’t into pain—hers or his. But the way she was looking up at him, her pretty wet lips parted and so very near, was fogging his brain with reckless lust.
“Suddenly, this fake relationship is feeling all too real…”
Playing it Cool by Amy Andrews releases on September 12th!
Harper Nugent might have a little extra junk in her trunk, but her stepbrother calling her out on it is the last straw… When rugby hottie, Dexter Blake, witnesses the insult, he surprises Harper by asking her out. In front of her dumbass brother. Score! Of course, she knows it’s not for reals, but Dex won’t take no for an answer.
Dexter Blake’s life revolves around rugby with one hard and fast rule: no women. Sure, his left hand is getting a workout, but he’s focused on his career for now. Then he overhears an asshat reporter belittle the curvy chick he’d been secretly ogling. What’s a guy to do but ask her out? It’s just a little revenge against a poser, and then he’ll get his head back in the game. But the date is better than either expected. So is the next one. And the next. And the heat between them…sizzles their clothes right off.
Suddenly, this fake relationship is feeling all too real…
About the Author
Amy Andrews is a multi-published, award- winning author of 50+ romance novels across both traditional and digital platforms. She writes for Harlequin Mills and Boon, Entangled, Harper Collins Australia, Momentum Publishing, Escape Publishing and Tule. She’s sold in excess of a million books worldwide and has been translated into over a dozen languages. In her spare time she is a PICU nurse and mother of two teenagers. She lives on acreage on the outskirts of Brisbane, Australia but secretly wishes it was the hillsides of Tuscany.
After a year of a seemingly happily-ever-after, Troy Babilonia throws a curve ball that smacks Larson Blackburn right in the head. When Troy’s debut novel, “Bridge to Lonely,” threatens to overshadow Larson’s own success, inviting a past shadow into the light of their present, the two alphas must learn to adjust.
“Bridge to Lonely” has garnered an unexpected success both in the literary world and in the film industry, forcing Larson to accept that he is not the only successful author in the building. But as Troy’s old flame decides to make an appearance, the two alphas are forced to test the strength of their love. Let the battle of the egos recommence; where sarcasm is the preferred weapon, and the testosterone levels go beyond the boiling point.
Because Black Balled just wasn’t enough…Smith & LeNoir bring you Hard Edit.
Excerpt
My favorite moment. That second before I enter him. That instant right before our bodies become one, our heartbeats sync into a practiced tempo and our souls merge into a single entity. My hips are positioned between his thighs, Troy’s legs folded against his chest and our gazes lock. “I love you,” I whisper and, before he has a chance to answer, I push my way inside him and still. “I fucking love you, Troy,” I say again, louder this time as I pull out and thrust back in more forcefully. Troy grunts, pulling himself up as he places his feet back on the mattress and wraps a hand around my neck bringing our faces only inches apart. The slight aroma of wine lingering on his breath wafts around my nostrils all mixed with the scent of our sex. Male on male, two dominant men fucking away their concerns. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?
Andrea Smith is a USA Today and Amazon Best-Selling Author of the G-Man Series! She has a wicked sense of humor. No matter the genre, she is able to infuse laughter throughout.
She self-publishes Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense, and Sensual Romance with a paranormal twist. She also writes New Adult Romance, and has recently collaborated with Author Eva LeNoir on two M/M Romances, with the third in process!
Eva LeNoirgrew up travelling with her parents to various countries in the world. Reading was her constant companion during her travels and her ability to adapt to different cultures fed her mind with endless possibilities. The characters swimming in her head are always from various horizons with a multitude of dreams and aspirations. However, all of these voices always have one thing in common: The women are strong and independent. A true believer in the female cause, Eva’s wish is to portray the women in her books as the leaders. She sees them walking hand in hand with their partners and not be the sheepish followers of the male gender. But most of all, Eva LeNoir wants to offer her readers a moment of pleasure as they dive into the world of her mind’s creation.
The house was dark when I quietly twisted the lock so as not to wake her. God knows she needed the sleep. I didn’t know how she still functioned when her days were filled with tears and her nights weren’t much better. It was precisely the reason I stayed gone as much as I did. Or so I’d thought as I’d thrown myself into work. Money couldn’t solve my problems, but it might have been able to solve hers.
My body ached, and my lids barely stayed open despite the pot of coffee I’d downed not even an hour earlier. It was a miracle I had been able to drive at all. I should have just crashed at the office, but after yet another failed prototype, I’d needed an escape.
Instead, I’d gone home—the very place I’d spent so many nights trying to avoid.
Only one foot was over the threshold when I suddenly froze.
“Elisabeth?” I called, flipping the overhead light on.
My shoulders fell as I found her sitting on the sofa, her long, blond hair curtaining her face and suitcases surrounding her feet.
“What’s going on?” I asked as my gut wrenched, already knowing the answer.
I had no right to be surprised. I’d all but forced her hand. If I was honest with myself, it was what I’d wanted—for her. However, none of that made the pain of reality any less agonizing.
My heart raced. “Elisabeth?” I prompted again, needing to hear her say the words almost as much as I dreaded it.
“I can’t stay here anymore,” she whispered at the floor.
Acid rose in my throat.
Out of habit, I dropped my keys into the basket she’d bought when we’d first moved in. “If you fail the key basket, the key basket will fail you,” she’d announced with an infectious smile the day we had become homeowners to the two-bedroom-two-bath starter home we could barely afford. It was just seconds before I’d swept her off her feet and made love to her on the hardwood floor of our foyer in the middle of the day.
But such was life as a newlywed.
Inside that house with her was the only place I’d ever wanted to be.
Until the fantasy of forever had worn off and the walls of real life had closed in on us. Once my refuge, our home became an inescapable prison with bars built of my failures.
I couldn’t breathe inside that house any more than I could look her in the eye.
We’d only been married for five years. But, seeing her now, I felt like it’d been a lifetime since I’d peered into her eyes, promising to love her in sickness and in health.
But it wasn’t like she was the same woman, either.
Over the last six months, she’d wasted away both physically and mentally in front of my eyes.
And I’d done absolutely nothing to help her.
But how do you throw a lifeline when you yourself don’t even have a rope to hold on to? I might have been able to keep her afloat for another day, but I’d never have been able to pull her back to me.
We merely existed on the same plane. Living under the same roof, eating meals at the same table, sleeping in the same bed. But we were far from sharing our lives together.
“Are you coming back?” I asked, not willing to accept the truth that lingered in the air around us.
Her deep-green eyes lifted to mine—the red rims and the dark circles doing nothing to hinder her beauty. Swallowing hard, she shifted her gaze to the mantel on the other side of the room. I knew what she was looking at, but I refused to follow her into the past.
That might have been our biggest problem of all.
She was still living there.
And I refused to go back.
“Elisabeth?” My voice softened, but the question remained the same. “Are you coming back?”
“No,” she replied, swiping the tears from her cheeks.
A thousand arrows fell from the sky, searing into my soul. My breath hitched, and my lungs burned. This was it—the end of my life as I knew it. But, in that moment, with her shoulders hunched forward in defeat, I realized that it was the end of hers, too.
Why did that realization hurt more than the lifetime of loneliness that was awaiting me when the sun rose?
I lifted a hand and rubbed my chest, hoping to ease the mounting pressure threatening to overtake me. “Don’t do this,” I mumbled through the pain.
I wasn’t sure who I’d meant that for though.
Was I chastising myself for having asked her to prolong the inevitable just because I wasn’t ready to lose her yet? Or was I asking her to stay in this sham of a marriage for even one day longer?
Probably both.
“You’ll be okay,” she assured me, pushing to her feet and gathering her bag, complete with our Yorkie, Loretta, tucked in her mesh dog carrier.
My pulse quickened, nature’s fight-or-flight finally kicking in. But I’d been in flight mode for entirely too long. There was no fight left.
I stepped into her path. “Elisabeth, please.” I wasn’t sure why I kept saying her name. I secretly hoped that it would snap her out of it, bringing her back to the reality of it all. But it was the reality that was killing us.
“I’ll take off work tomorrow,” I pleaded. “We can talk. Figure things out.”
It was selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. But that was nothing new for me.
Her chin quivered as a steady stream of tears fell from her eyes. “Promise me something, Roman.”
I would have promised her the entire fucking universe if it had made her stay one night longer. But who was I kidding?
We were over.
We both knew it.
“Anything,” I whispered, reaching down to take her hand, desperate for the connection I didn’t deserve.
“Remember to live.” Her voice caught, and a silent sob tore through her.
Cupping the back of her head, I pulled her into my chest.
“I can fix this,” I swore, but it was yet another lie. “We just need time.”
Her shoulders shook as she cried in my arms. “We…we promised. We told him we’d live for him.”
I closed my lids and clung to her tighter.
We were supposed to be fighting and screaming. That was what soon-to-be-divorced couples did. But that wasn’t us. We didn’t hate each other. Elisabeth was my soul mate on every level.
And she was paying the price for that.
Minutes later, the tears stopped and she backed out of my arms. I fought the urge to regain my hold, forcing her to stay. But her sad resolve as she hurried to the mantel and then to the door made it clear it’d be a wasted effort.
Never in a million years had I thought I’d be standing there, watching her walk away.
But, then again, I’d never expected her to have the urn of our only child cradled in her arm, either. A reminder of just how much I hadn’t been able to give her. How much I’d never be able to give her.
My past, present, and future were walking out of my life, and I stood immobile as every fiber in my being screamed for me to drop to my knees and beg her to stay.
To take her in my arms and tell her that we’d figure it out.
To reclaim my life once and for all.
But how would that have helped her?
Staying wouldn’t magically bring back her smile. Nor would it make her look at me with those bright-green eyes that made me feel as though I could conquer the world.
It wouldn’t give me back the crazy woman who argued with her whole heart and loved with her entire soul. No. Those days were gone.
I’d lost that woman somewhere in the bitterness between grief and blame.
We’d been happy once.
But we’d gotten greedy and tried to start a family.
That was her future. Not mine. Regardless how desperately I longed to give it to her…and then selfishly take it for myself.
Sex. That’s how babies are made. Children as young as elementary school are taught the simple biological facts of reproduction.
But what they never tell you is that, for one in six couples, having a baby goes a little differently.
For Elisabeth and me, it looked more like this:
******
Thirty-six months of crushing disappointment.
Three miscarriages.
Hundreds of tests our insurance company refused to cover because the inability to reproduce was not considered a health condition.
Countless tears.
Helplessness.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Her broken heart.
My empty chest.
Thirty-seven thousand dollars we didn’t have.
In vitro fertilization.
A sperm donor.
A handful of hope.
A positive pregnancy test.
Five months of utter bliss.
Earth-shattering devastation.
A funeral for a child I would never get to see grow up.
A job that became my only reprieve from reality.
And now…losing the only woman I would ever love.
I’d always been amazed by how much punishment a heart could take. I was broken, battered, and destroyed. And yet, much to my dismay, as I watched the front door close behind her, my heart kept beating.
ONE STORY. TWO COUPLES.
The Retrieval Duetby Aly Martinez is a two part series releasing September 2016.
RETRIEVALreleases on September 13th and will bring readers the first part of this emotional second chance romance.
TRANSFER (Part Two) will release on September 27th!
She laughed and told me I was insane. Less than a day later, she said yes.
It was a whirlwind, but we were happy…
Until we got greedy and wanted a family.
It was a life I couldn’t give her, not for lack of trying. Fertility just wasn’t on our side. We sought out doctors and treatments. Spent money we didn’t have. Lied to our families. Smiled for our friends. Put on a brave face for a world that didn’t understand.
Finally, we were successful…
Until we were forced to bury our son.
We were left broken, battered, and destroyed.
They say love is in the details, but it was the details that ruined us.
This is the story of how I took back what had always been mine.
The retrieval of my wife and our family.
Meet the Author:
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinezis a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
“Zach Watters has made a lot of mistakes in his life. But when he sees Shelby Calder looking more beautiful than ever standing outside her childhood home, he promises himself that letting her go won’t be a mistake he ever makes again.”
That moment you love someone more than you love yourself.
That was the moment we gave our son up for adoption and the moment I was left bare. A wide-open space that would forever be empty.
There are moments that define you as a person, moments that prove just how strong you are, moments you push yourself to keep going forward when all you really want to do is give up. It was in one of those moments when I reached out and found him waiting for me.
When Shelby Calder left home fifteen years ago, she never planned on returning to the Alaskan town she left behind. But after the death of her grandfather and a bitter divorce, she hopes going home will be a fresh start for her and her ten-year-old son.
Zach Watters has made a lot of mistakes in his life. But when he sees Shelby Calder, looking more beautiful than ever, standing outside her childhood home, he promises himself that letting her go won’t be a mistake he ever makes again.
Some things never change and love is one of them.
Excerpt
“Then why did you marry her?” I ask, wondering if I’m really ready to go there with him, but it’s too late to change my mind. The question is out, and as much as I don’t want to know the answer, I need to know the answer.
“I wanted my kids to have what I didn’t. I believed that, with time, we could find a way to be happy.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this,” I say, changing my mind as nausea and jealousy turn my stomach.
“You loved your ex, baby. I know you did. I didn’t have that. I wanted it but never had it with her or anyone else since you.”
“Please stop.” Feeling tears burn the back of my eyes for him, I close them tight. Max and I were happy and in love in the beginning, and I hate knowing Zach never had that… the kids didn’t see or feel that.
“I wish my past didn’t hurt you so much. I’m sorry for hurting you the way I have. If I could take your pain away, I would.” He gathers me against him and tucks my head under his chin.
“As sad as it makes me, I wish you would have had that with her or someone else,” I say, and his arms tighten so much that my lungs compress.
“I don’t,” he growls.
“What?” I wheeze, and he loosens his grip just enough for me to take a breath.
“I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I had been with her or someone else when you came back. I don’t want to face that demon inside of me that knows what I would have done.”
“Zach—”
“I’ve been in love with you for almost eighteen years. I carried your missing pieces around inside me for that long, Shelby. I know it would have made me an asshole, but there is only one you. You’re the only place I’ve ever called home.” His voice is thick with emotion, and that wound inside of me fills up a little bit more. I hate his words, but a part of me is relieved he feels that way, that he feels so deeply for me.
“There’s been a wide open space inside me since we placed Samuel and I left you behind. But, from the moment I came back, it’s slowly been filling up.”
He goes quiet at my words. Several moments pass before he speaks again. “One day, that space will be full. I swear, with everything I have in me, I will make sure it’s overflowing and that you never feel empty again.”
About the Author:
Aurora Rose Reynolds is a navy brat who’s husband served in the United States Navy. She has lived all over the country but now resides in New York City with her Husband and pet fish. She’s married to an alpha male that loves her as much as the men in her books love their women. He gives her over the top inspiration everyday. In her free time she reads, writes and enjoys going to the movies with her husband and cookie. She also enjoys taking mini weekend vacations to nowhere, or spends time at home with friends and family. Last but not least she appreciates everyday and admires it’s beauty.
From the New York Times Bestselling Author of The Resistance comes this new STANDALONE contemporary romance.
Because first love deserves a second chance
One month.
One movie.
One shot at a second chance.
I fell madly in love at first sight with Jane Lewis.
The girl with bright green eyes, a pretty smile, and great ass owned my heart. I thought she was happy with the status quo, but ten years later, I foolishly let her go. Despite dating other women, no one compares to my first love. We are meant to be together, and I’m going to try my damnedest to convince her of that.
Luke Anders tricked me. The deal was sealed before I knew he was behind it.
We agreed to be just friends. Simple. Easy. But it’s not just the weather that’s hot in Texas. I was a fool to think I could resist him. He knows how to work his charms and those kissable lips, that great jaw, and biceps. We are here to work, but he has become downright distracting.
I’m strong. I can handle one month of his flirtatious sexual torture. But if I happen to fall in bed with that sexy bastard for a night, or three, does that make me weak? Asking for a friend, of course.
I guess I’m about to find out when love gets messy, it’s not just the talk that’s dirty.
**BONUS BOOK EDITION of Dirty Talk includes the full novel of Sweet Talk.
“Sweet Talk is a fun, sexy, emotionally-rich second chance romance with a charm-your-panties-off hero.” ~ New York Times Bestselling Author, Violet Duke
Meet the Author
New York Times and USA Bestselling Author, S. L. Scott, was always interested in the arts. She grew up painting, writing poetry and short stories, and willing her days away lost in a good book and the movies.
With a degree in Journalism, she continued her love of the written word by reading American authors like Salinger and Fitzgerald. She was intrigued by their flawed characters living in picture perfect worlds, but could still debate that the world those characters lived in were actually the flawed ones. This dynamic of leaving the reader invested in the words, inspired Scott to start writing with emotion while interjecting an underlying passion into her own stories.
Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She’s obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. She dreams of seeing one of her own books made into a movie one day as well as returning to Europe. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she’s a pro.
Make your eyes roll back in your head with his tongue
Katya Tocci has never paid much attention to who lives next door – her career always kept her too busy. She’s a good girl, working her way to becoming the most sought after cake designer in all of San Francisco.
But even a good girl’s gotta cut loose once in a while, right? So one fake dating profile later, and she’s ready to tarnish her squeaky clean image. Little does she know, her fun time is closer to home than she ever imagined.
Throw in a neighbor who wants to corrupt her, and another who just wants to own her, and her entire world is flipped upside down.
Who knew neighbors could be so helpful?
About the Author:
Crazy woman from a remote location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a necessity!), I have been writing since … forever? Yeah, that sounds about right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball – I also see shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I’m clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there’s your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair – both a curse and a blessing – and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can’t understand me.
He told me to ‘settle, girl.’ He asked if ‘something was wrong with me?’ He said I was an ‘easy target.’ That was within minutes when I first met Caden Banks. I labeled him an *sshole, but he was more than that. Arrogant. Smug. Alpha. He was also to-die-for gorgeous, and my stepbrother’s fraternity brother. Okay, yes I was a little naive, a tad bit socially awkward, and the smallest amount of stalker-ish, but if Caden Banks thought he could tell me what to do, he had another thing coming. I came to college with daydreams about being with my stepbrother, but what would happen if I fell for the anti-stepbrother instead?
Excerpt
He wasn’t looking at me any more. I wasn’t even sure he was really in the room.
I needed to leave this alone. He had given me the clues—looking away, his jaw clenching, pain like I’d never heard from him sounding loud and clear. My instincts were telling me to shut up, but I couldn’t. I had this burning need to know more about Caden. I needed to get in there, past his walls, and I wanted to understand him.
I wanted to help him.
Caden was hurting, and I wanted to take that away.
“What happened?”
Caden turned his gaze to me now, and I felt branded by the pain I saw. His eyes were stricken. “Does it matter?”
“No.” My breath caught and held in my chest. I wanted to go to him, but I also wanted to slink away. I was stirring up his pain, but I had to know. “What happened, Caden?”
“Why do you have to know?”
“Because it’s hurting you.”
I made a decision, though I had no idea what the ramifications were going to be. I stood, my legs going numb and my stomach clenching, and I moved to his side. He leaned back, his head falling to the couch, and he watched me.
The need to ease some of his hurt outweighed the fear of what would happen next. Swallowing tightly, I stepped over to straddle him and sat down.
“What are you doing?”
He asked that softly, still holding his beer. I took it from his hands and put it on the stand next to the couch. Then I just sat there. He had to do the rest. I’d already made the first move.
I glanced down at his hands, feeling like an idiot. “What happened?”
“Why are you pushing this?”
I looked back up to find confusion warring with need in his eyes. He wasn’t pushing me away, so I sank further into his lap.
“You haven’t told anyone else about this.” It wasn’t really a question, but I saw the confirmation in his eyes. My chest tightened, thinking about whatever secret he held. “Please tell me.”
“No.” He shifted forward, and I braced myself, expecting him to push me away. He didn’t. His hands grasped the backs of my legs and lifted me so I was more fully on his lap.
I could feel him between my legs, and my breasts almost pressed against his chest. I waited. I wanted to see what else he’d say
“But not because I don’t want you to know,” he added. “Because it’s not my secret to tell.”
I nodded, my stomach doing somersaults now. “That makes sense. I can respect that.”
And there we were. His hands cupped my ass, and the pain in his gaze became something darker, something I felt too, something that began to turn off all rational thought.
“What are we doing here?” he questioned, his voice like a caress in itself.
I leaned forward, my gaze lingering on his lips. “I didn’t really think it through.”
“And now?”
“Still not thinking it through.”
“You’re okay with that?”
In that moment, the truth exploded in me. I wanted him. I wanted this—but it was more. I needed this.
I didn’t answer.
I closed the distance between us.
Author Information
I didn’t begin writing until after undergraduate college. There’d been storylines and characters in my head all my life, but it came to a boiling point one day and I HAD to get them out of me. So the computer was booted up and I FINALLY felt it click. Writing is what I needed to do. After that, I had to teach myself how to write. I can’t blame my teachers for not teaching me all those years in school. It was my fault. I was one of the students that was wishing I was anywhere but at school! So after that day, it took me lots of work until I was able to put together something that resembled a novel. I’m hoping I got it right since someone must be reading this profile! And I hope you keep enjoying my future stories.
Eva Lenoir
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