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“To my Loves” by Jen Cousineau
20 Wednesday Apr 2016
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19 Tuesday Apr 2016
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you love Kristan Higgins, Susan Mallery, or Jill Shalvis, you won’t want to
miss the Hero’s Welcome military romance series! Welcome to Forever introduces
a small coastal town where America’s best and brightest risk everything for
love.
are two kinds of people: Marines, and kids of Marines. Then there’s Kat
Chandler. Recently hired as the principal of Seaside Elementary,
Kat makes it her mission to turn the school into a place of peace and calm.
That’s not going to be easy with hard-liner parents like Micah Peterson
storming in, telling her how to do her job—and then kissing her with those
gorgeous lips of his and turning her brain into mush.
dad, Micah Peterson has just two priorities: doing his job better than anyone
else, and getting the absolute best for his son, Ben. But when he meets Ben’s
beautiful new principal, a different yearning shifts into focus. He wants her,
sure, but he’s also moved by the connection Kat forges with her students. So
after learning that she refuses to date Marines, Micah sets two more
objectives: convincing Kat to give him a chance . . . and then holding on to
her forever.
“Have you thought about that kiss?” she asked, as he leaned in close
to fasten her seatbelt. She couldn’t control what was coming out of her
mouth. “Because I have. A little.” She started laughing again. Val had
warned her that she was a horrible drunk, and evidently, it was true.
“What
have you thought about it?” he asked, his voice low and bristly. Her
buckle snapped into place with a loud click. He could step back now, but
he didn’t.
And she didn’t want him to. What was the point of
being drunk if you couldn’t say and do what you wanted, and then
apologize for it in the morning? No one blamed a drunk, they blamed the
drink. “I thought that I liked it. The kiss. It was amazing.” She held
her breath as he lingered in front of her, his hand still resting on the
seat’s buckle.
“I thought the same thing.”
“You did?” She swallowed thickly, as her heart rode up her throat.
His brow lifted. “You sound surprised.”
“I’m
out of practice.” She nibbled on her lower lip, drawing his gaze there.
Then his gaze flicked back to her ring. Just the thought squashed the
flutterings in her chest, leaving a deep ache that vibrated with the
alcohol. “He’s been gone for two years,” she said.
Micah’s brows pinched together softly.
Explaining
about John in her state wasn’t a good idea, though. She might start
crying, which she didn’t do in front of others anymore, and right now
all she wanted to do was forget everything but their kiss. That she
wanted to remember. “You could kiss me again,” she said softly.
His smile deepened and, damn, he smelled good.
Leaning
in closer to her ear, his hot breath melted her as he whispered, “Kat,
you’ve had too much to drink. I’m taking you home now.”
Before
she could process what he’d said, he stepped back and shut the Jeep’s
door, the sound as offensive as if someone had crashed cymbals in her
ears. A moment later, he reappeared on the driver’s side and cranked the
engine, another sound that made her wince.
She closed her eyes, unsure of what to do with her drunken emotions.
“If
I kiss you again, I want to be one hundred percent sure it’s what you
want. Not because my almost ex is walking up and you want to help me
out. Not because you’ve had too much to drink and want to escape.”
She
suddenly felt very tired, as the Jeep Cherokee headed out of the
parking lot. “So, you are going to kiss me again?” she asked. Before she
could hear his answer, though, her eyes closed and the sounds of the
road and his voice, and the blood thundering in her head, blurred
together. She remembered their kiss, the feel of his stubble roughly
brushing against her cheek, and the way he had smelled like pine and
fudge brownies.
No, wait. His eyes reminded her of fudge brownies. He didn’t smell like them.
Her eyes fluttered open. Yeah, she was definitely going to regret tonight in the morning.
author who writes small town love stories set in fictional towns on the coast
of North Carolina. Raised in one of America’s largest military communities,
Annie often features heroes who fight for their countries, while also fighting
for a place to call home and a good woman to love. When Annie isn’t writing,
she’s spending time with her husband and 3 children, or reading a book by one
of her favorite authors. Represented by Sarah Younger at Nancy Yost Literary
Agency (NYLA).
19 Tuesday Apr 2016
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Purple wig, red lips, and a flirty smile—those are the only things Austin Blakely remembers when he wakes up tied to his bed…
It’s Austin’s job as the enforcer for the New York Rangers hockey team to strike fear in the hearts of grown men. But if Manhattan’s notorious gossip magazine, The Whisperer, catches wind of his dating fail—or worse, took a picture of him in his compromised state—his reputation and career could be ruined.
Magnolia Cross is still running from rumors that robbed her of the interview of a lifetime…
Intern reporter for the Madison Square Garden news affiliate isn’t Magnolia’s idea of a dream job. She doesn’t even like hockey. But it’s experience on-air, and that’s what counts. After a prank-gone-wrong leaves her stripped of her Valedictorian title, she loses her initial chance at making it big. But now she’s stronger and smarter, and won’t let trust issues screw her out of her chance for success—again.
One bad interview and two million YouTube hits later, Magnolia is a media sensation—for all the wrong reasons…
Stupid Austin Blakely with his cocky smile and hockey lingo gibberish. After he embarrasses her on national television in the name of harmless flirting, Magnolia vows never to interview him again. Except avoiding Austin is easier said than done.
It isn’t long before Magnolia discovers the real source of Austin’s fears. It’s all about the seductress in the purple wig—unless it’s about the pictures she stole that could change all their lives forever…
Crimson leather straps bit into Austin Blakely’s wrists. The razor-sharp sensation caused his heavy eyes to pop open. He yanked his hands forward, but the unforgiving material confined him to the sturdy wooden headboard behind him. White orbs flashed in his vision. The room titled as if on a spindle.
Memories.
Blurry little puzzle pieces from the night sluggishly patched themselves together.
A trendy Art Deco bar with ridiculous yellow cubicle seats and neon lights. Techno blasted too loud. He wanted to leave, but his teammate and new wingman Callen had an off night during their game against the Blackhawks and needed to let off steam.
Shots of Patron sliding down a tan stomach. The Katy Perry lookalike sported a short purple bob. Her hair wasn’t natural. It was a wig, which he found weird, but she’d been nice and flirty.
He liked flirty. Flirty held promise.
The candy pop princess hailed a cab for them after last call. That should have been the first sign. He liked aggressive women. However, eagerness was a red flag. Too eager and eas .y toni .ght meant too clingy and stalk you tomorrow. The burden of being a professional athlete. It hadn’t registered with him. She lacked all the other warning signs. Well, except maybe that wig.
She’d been calm, though, and friendly. Not in the ‘oh my gosh, he’s a professional hockey player’ kind of way either. She stood at the edge of the bar enjoying her martini, her eyes everywhere but on him. He made the first move. When he slid in the cab, he thought his night would end like any other after a big win.
He was wrong. Very wrong.
Bondage.
Purple wig girl slipped the leather ties around his wrists with the ease of an expert. He normally didn’t allow that sort of thing. He didn’t understand why he agreed so easily. Then blackness. That hadn’t been part of the deal.
The room in front of him steadied. The familiar hum of the heater beneath the window rose above the screaming headache behind his eyes. A giant number forty-three poster hung on the bathroom door, a Nerf basketball goal above it. It was his room.
It didn’t stop the panic in his gut or the cold sweat that formed across his brow. “Hey—” He paused. Yeah. He didn’t know her name. “Hey, purple hair girl! Are you here?”
Nothing but the grumble of the heater answered him.
Awesome.
“Callen Copley is a dead man.” Austin twisted on the mattress, fighting back the urge to decorate his sheets with refurbished tequila. The slight movement transformed his bed into a Hugh Hefner Tilt-A-Whirl.
How the hell was he still drunk? A formidable buzz was ridiculously difficult to accomplish for a man his size. Barefoot, he was six-four. Not to mention two hundred and ten pounds of solid rock, thanks to his training regime. It would take a hell of a lot of alcohol to get him tie-me-up drunk.
Even then he would have told the girl no. He always had his career to consider. ‘Don’t let strange women hog-tie you to a headboard’ wasn’t in the NHL player handbook, but it should be. The media was cruel on their best day. They’d have a field day if they found out.
Fifty shades of Blakely. The headline would practically write itself.
He couldn’t afford to have his opposition laughing at him every night.
Despite his prowess as a goal scorer, Austin was better known for his uncanny ability to strike fear into the hearts of even the most courageous. He was an enforcer for the New York Rangers, and if he wasn’t on your team, you might even call him a goon. It was his job to make sure no one touched the team’s greatest commodity, his best friend Henrik.
Speaking of his good for nothing brother-in-law, he reached for his phone.
Pain. Pins and needles piercing his skin, scraping the bone. “Shit.”
He quickly shoved his heel into the mattress and pushed himself back up the bed to take the pressure off. The inner band of the leather straps must be laced with porcupine needles. That, or his seductress was a voodoo witch. At this point he wouldn’t doubt it.
Carefully and with enough caution to make him feel like a complete pussy, Austin moved nothing but his eyes to look down his body in search of his pockets. Stark white briefs stared back at him.
Damn. He could have sworn he had pants. His phone was in the front right pocket.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. Pants in the cab. Pants in the elevator. Pants in the hallway?
Stupid, black, fuzzy, nauseous thoughts. He had no clue. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t have any pants right now.
“Hey!” His voice started to sound desperate. The silence only grew louder and more maddening. “Why the hell tie me up and leave? Huh?”
A ticking bomb, Austin lay perfectly still and seethed. They hadn’t had sex. He still wore his boxers. In fact, now that he fought to focus his thoughts, the girl hadn’t shown any kind of affection toward him at all. No kiss. No hand holding. She hadn’t touched him until she brought out the restraints.
A stage five clinger didn’t sound so bad at the moment.
Something was wrong with the entire situation. His gaze darted around the room, evaluating every detail. A replica of his college dorm room, but bigger. The walls were bare as ever. His dresser still sat lopsided from that game of Mario Cart gone wrong his sophomore year, and a basket of gym clothes remained unwashed in the corner.
Everything looked normal.
Well, except for the obvious fact that he was half naked and tied to his bed. If she robbed him, he’d never live it down. He needed his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans.
He eyed the leather straps over his shoulder, contemplating whether the risk of jerking his hands free with his entire strength would be worth the reward of freedom.
He gave it a slight tug. It wasn’t fucking worth it.
“Help me, damn it.” His voice echoed off the walls of his apartment and back to him.
Why hadn’t he let Callen move in with him?
That’s right because Callen had idiotic ideas like ‘try a new scene’ and ‘broaden your Friday night horizons.’ He needed a new wingman, pronto. Shit like this didn’t happen when he roamed the bar scene with Henrik.
Austin’s fingers clenched, his knuckles turning white. He was going to broaden Callen’s nose when he found him.
“Hey, Austin. Do you know your door is wide open?”
Austin’s head popped up. Morning grumpies with a side of Swedish accent. He knew that voice. He’d recognize it anywhere. Henrik.
Henrik, the best fucking friend in the entire universe, Rylander.
Austin glanced at the clock on the night stand, relieved. It was seven o’clock, which meant it was time for their ritual morning workout. Good ol’ responsible and reliable Henrik.
Austin spotted the familiar blond, mussed hair of his frie .nd as he crossed the threshold to his bedroom. Henrik, holding two cups of what could only be green mush in his hands, paused mid-step.
It wasn’t the typical scenario Henrik was accustomed to walking in on when they lived together. His head wasn’t covered up with blankets and he wasn’t demanding pancakes as tribute. Henrik’s mouth dropped open, but then the shock slowly turned into a grin.
“Holy weird kinky shit.” Henrik looked around, his pupils the size of a mothership. “What the hell, Blakie?”
Austin rolled his eyes and looked away. He didn’t want Henrik to see the embarrassment on his face. Or the shame and betrayal. “Long story. Can you just untie me, please?”
Henrik’s grin widened. “Of course.” He set the cups down on the dresser, then pulled out his cell phone. Then Henrik aimed it at him.
“Don’t you dare—”
“Say cheese.” The camera flashed.
“This isn’t funny, Henrik.”
Henrik laughed from around his phone as he reviewed his picture. “Oh, I beg to disagree.”
The camera flashed again.
“Fuck you. That wasn’t necessary.”
Henrik shrugged. “This is worth sharing. You know it.”
18 Monday Apr 2016
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18 Monday Apr 2016
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18 Monday Apr 2016
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proposition: pretend they’re a couple to end a scandal. But she has secrets of
her own…
Doucet has dealt with sexy, arrogant athletes most of her life. But Jean-Pierre
Reynaud is a whole different animal—in bed and on the field. Unbeknownst to
him, their one amazing night produced a son. Now her family’s biggest football rival is back, offering a seductive wager she can’t
refuse.
despises the media. When rumors fly, he knows a fake relationship is the
perfect diversion for the tabloids—and Tatiana’s unbridled passion is the
perfect diversion for Jean-Pierre. But when she drops a baby bombshell, the
scandal will rock them both!
Rock has never met a romance sub-genre she didn’t like. The author of
over seventy novels enjoys writing contemporary romance and medieval
historicals alike, recently exploring Young Adult romance under a pseudonym. An
optimist by nature and perpetual seeker of silver linings, Joanne finds
romance–in all its forms– fits her life outlook perfectly. When she’s not
writing, Joanne enjoys travel, especially to see her favorite sports teams play
with her former sports editor husband and three athletic-minded sons.
18 Monday Apr 2016
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One epic love. Two wounded souls. Three impossible words.
Ripped away from each other by circumstances beyond their control. Reunited in a place they never expected. Separated but never quite apart.
“You’re still the only woman I see. The only woman I need. I know you’re in there somewhere, sweet Caroline. We’re going to find you and we’re going to help you, until you come home to me where you belong. Then we’re going to finish what we started. Together.”
Her confidence shattered, Caroline finally starts to deal with what happened at The Fed. Jack is determined to convince her that she’s more than she thinks she is. That she wasn’t destroyed by her experiences. That their relationship is worth the fight. But will he give up before it’s too late?
Phoenix is the fourth installment in The Bellator Saga. It should be read after the first three novels in the series.
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15 Friday Apr 2016
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