Breathe, an all-new second chance romance from Wall Street Journal and New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips is coming May 15th!
Fall in love with the Wards…
From troubled teen to successful general contractor, Jake Nichols turned his life around from his time in foster care. Divorced and single, he juggles his time between his daughter and his work. Next on his agenda, a new project that is his chance to prove his worth at the job he loves. Except he never anticipates that the only girl he’s ever loved and lost as a teen is now a grown and beautiful woman in charge of the project.
Phoebe Ward has survived and conquered a painful past that includes foster care and becoming a teenaged mom. She wants nothing more than to focus on the present but it’s hard when she looks into the eyes of her son, knowing she’s tried and failed to find his father. She’s resigned herself to raising him alone with the help of her family… Until a client meeting brings her face to face with her first love. A boy… now a sexy man she thought she’d never see again … and the father of her child.
So many years have gone by and both of their lives have changed drastically. Will they be able to put the past behind them and find the second chance they both deserve?
A Standalone Novel
“Hello?” Phoebe called out.
“In here!” a masculine voice said, sounding like it came from the far side of the house.
She followed the sound and noticed a man talking on the phone, his back to her. He was tall, well built, muscles defined, as she took him in from behind. And what a behind he had, a tight ass in his faded jeans.
She ogled the sight shamelessly, her gaze traveling up his lean waist and broad shoulders. His dark hair was short and the jet-black color she preferred on a man. He wore a light blue button-down, sleeves rolled up, revealing sexy forearms.
And then he turned to meet her gaze, giving her one raised finger to indicate he needed another minute on the phone. Except she wasn’t paying attention to the gesture, because one look at that handsome face, more mature than she remembered but just as good-looking, and she froze.
Vivid blue eyes widened at the sight of her in return.
She wasn’t just looking at a stranger, she was staring into the shocked eyes of her son’s father, a man she hadn’t seen since before she found out she was pregnant.
“Jake?” she whispered, unable to comprehend the fact that she was standing in the same room with her first love. Her first everything.
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Meet Carly Phillips
Carly Phillips is the N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of over 50 sexy contemporary romance novels, including the Indie published, Dare to Love Series. She is happily married to her college sweetheart, the mother of two nearly adult daughters and three crazy dogs. Carly loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers.
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Are you ready for your first look at Cameron McGregor? Check out an excerpt of MELT FOR YOU by J.T. Geissinger below! Preorder your copy now and get your hands on him when MELT FOR YOU publishes May 15th!
About MELT FOR YOU
A wallflower gets seduction tips from a playboy athlete—until love changes the rules.
Socially awkward Joellen Bixby has a date every Saturday—with her cat, a pint of ice cream, and fantasies of the way-too-handsome Michael Maddox. She’d give anything to win over the unattainable CEO of her firm, but how can she when she blends in so well with her cubicle? The answer may be closer than she thinks.
Cameron McGregor is a cocky, tattooed Scottish rugby captain who just moved in next door. He’s not Jo’s type—at all—but the notorious playboy is offering to teach the wallflower everything he knows about inspiring desire. Though a lot of women have rumpled Cam’s kilt, Jo is special. Far from the ugly duckling she thinks she is, in Cam’s eyes she’s sharp, funny, and effortlessly sexy. Now, thanks to him, Jo is blooming with confidence and has the man of her dreams within reach.
Unfortunately for Cam, he’s just helped to push the woman of his dreams into the arms of another man—and now he’s in the fight of his life to keep this beauty from getting away.
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Read an Excerpt from MELT FOR YOU
“Remember to breathe,” he whispers.
“Just kiss me already,” I whisper back, surprised by how much it sounds like a plea.
“Your eyes are still open.”
I immediately shut them.
His soft laugh sends a thrill up my spine. “If only you were that obedient all the time, lass.” He lightly nips my lower lip, a dark, delicious little promise.
My hands. What do I do with my hands? They’re flattened against his chest again, but that seems lame, so I slide them up around his neck…and discover his hair. Good lord. Thick, glossy strands of hair slide like silk between my fingers. It’s longer than any of the men’s at the office, much longer than Michael’s, past the collar of his shirt, dark and waving, exquisitely soft.
As his tongue slowly begins to probe my mouth, I tug on all that gorgeous hair, forgetting I’m not supposed to be enjoying this.
I arch against him, softening, expanding, breathing deeply through my nose as the kiss deepens and begins to burn. I wasn’t kidding when I said he was experienced. He knows exactly what to do, how to get my blood sizzling and my heart hammering and all the pornographic images of him nude and splayed out like the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received pulsing like neon signs inside my head.
My nipples tighten. There’s a new heaviness between my legs, but it’s not him, it’s me, flushed and aching, every pull of his lips sending a spike of heat to that hollow space inside me that I’m becoming acutely aware of, its muted little howls of need.
I break away to check in before I lose myself completely and choke him with my prehensile tongue. “How’m I doing?” I mumble, flushed and out of breath.
His eyes drift open. Hot and dark, they pin me in place. “Jury’s still out,” he says, his voice thick. “Need more evidence.”
His mouth. I will drown in the pleasure of his mouth. I’ll die on this sofa and Mrs. Dinwiddle will find my body, fingers and toes chewed on by the poor starving cat.
The kiss grows decadent. Sinful. I moan, a desperate sound rising from the back of my throat. It has an interesting effect on Cam.
His entire body goes stiff.
He takes my head in both hands, breaks the kiss, and turns his face away. He breathes raggedly for a few moments, his nostrils flared and his jaw like granite. With his fingers pressed into my scalp, he says roughly, “You can’t make noises like that.”
Oh God. I sound like a warthog. A donkey. A trained pig, snuffling through the underbrush in search of truffles. “Okay.”
The humiliation in my voice makes his eyes slash to mine. “It’s not bad. It’s just…distracting.”
He slightly shifts his weight, and things are clarified.
I bite my lip so hard I might have drawn blood. My heart is a hummingbird beating frantically against a cage. I whisper, “You said you wouldn’t get aroused.”
He looks at my mouth like a warlord looking over a kingdom he’s just seized. “I lied.”
A kiss again, dangerous, like standing at the edge of a cliff and looking over, shifting dirt and rocks tumbling beneath your feet. My fingers twist in his hair. His hands move my head, left or right, however he wants it, a throbbing pulse like drumbeats in my ears. I’m so turned on I feel frantic, unstable, like I might break out of my own skin.
Caterpillar becoming butterfly. Chrysalis shed, wings outstretched, wind beneath my belly. Caught on an updraft. Beating, beating, flying free.
He breaks the kiss, suddenly, shatteringly, the separation like breaking glass. Dizzy, I whimper at the loss of his mouth.
“Fuck. Joellen. Fuck.”
He’s panting, his voice a desperate rasp. He radiates heat like a furnace. Even his hands on my head are hot, burning right through my skull.
With his scent in my nose and his heat wrapped around me and his heart pounding against mine, I’m somewhere else. I’m someone else. A gypsy, casting spells. A sloe-eyed singer in a smoky jazz club. A femme fatale in a film noir, all knowing smiles and long legs and a throaty voice with an edge like a purr.
“Don’t stop,” I say in my new voice. “You taste so good.”
He stares right at me, his eyes intensely aglow. Tiger eyes. Wolf eyes. The eyes of a predator about to pounce on his meal.
He growls, “You like the way I taste?”
There’s a challenge in the question. Other than his ragged breathing, he’s so still, every muscle tensed.
I come back to myself abruptly, all at once aware of how far this little experiment has gone, how dangerously close it is to the point of no return, and the cat up on the kitchen table eating the remains of Cam’s dinner from his plate.
Oh shit. My face floods with heat.
I’m not a gypsy. I’m not a femme fatale. I’m an awkward, lonely woman sitting on the lap of the most famous athlete on the planet, making an utter fool of myself.
About J.T. Geissinger
A former headhunter, J.T. Geissinger is the author of more than a dozen novels in contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and romantic suspense.
She is the recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book, the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and is a two-time finalist for the RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America®. Her work has also finaled in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.
Join her Facebook reader’s group, Geissinger’s Gang, to take part in weekly Wine Wednesday live chats and giveaways, find out more information about works in progress, have access to exclusive excerpts and contests, and get advance reader copies of her upcoming releases.
Series: Constellation #2
Author: Jennifer Locklear
Cover Designer: Jada D’Lee Designs
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 17
He’s older, sophisticated, and harboring secrets.
She’s intelligent, beautiful, and emotionally numb.
On the surface, advertising executive Jack Evans has it all. Blessed with striking good looks, a thriving career, a stylish wife, and an adoring daughter, he’s still struggling with personal turmoil. And when his wife abruptly leaves, it’s up to Jack to care for his child alone while picking up the pieces of his broken past.
While doing so, Jack is drawn to the up-and-coming executive, Kathleen Brighton. She’s stunning and intuitive—and everything he needs now that the divorce is finalized. As he falls for his sexy colleague, Jack worries that Kathleen may not be able to handle the chaos of his life. Will Jack escape the mistakes of his past to capture the future he deserves?
I don’t remember how long I stared at the dresser drawer that once held Kathleen’s lingerie. But it was a while.
Eventually, I left my bedroom to join my ex-wife and our daughter for dinner. I went through the motions of the mealtime ritual, but my thoughts and concerns about Kathleen distracted me. I hadn’t heard if she’d arrived in Denver and was aware of her absence.
Despite our strained relationship, it was comforting to know I could see her at the office. As painful as our growing separation was, I’d held out hope for us. Since returning to work, I’d planned to seize every opportunity to nurture our love and find a way back into her arms. But now that she had gone to Colorado, there was nothing to look forward to.
I left my untouched dinner on the plate. I offered Allison an expression of regret and packed up my uneaten food for lunch the following day. I helped with the dishes, and when there was nothing left to do, I stepped outside and took a seat on the swinging bench I’d once shared with Kathleen.
At the beginning of the summer, we’d sat in this spot together and talked about Allison. I remembered with heartache how Kathleen promised me she would never interfere with my family. She never wanted to cause trouble between Allison and me. As far as I was concerned, Kathleen had kept her promise. The reason I was sitting there alone was because I hadn’t followed her example.
I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees and resting my face in my palms. I missed Kathleen. I’d missed her for weeks, but with her away from Bend, I no longer felt whole. I worried she was gone for good. I hadn’t experienced fear like this since the day of Heide’s accident. I hadn’t grieved like this since my father died. I didn’t know how to win Kathleen back, but I didn’t want to live the rest of my life without her.
“Jack?” Allison’s soft voice at the same moment she rested a light hand on my shoulder startled me. Consumed in my own emotions, I hadn’t noticed her approach. I sat bolt upright and realized I was crying. It wasn’t something I was prone to, and I brushed a hand over my eyes to remove the evidence.
Allison sat next to me, angling her body toward mine. When I dropped my hand back to my lap, she cradled it in her own. It was a touch, a fit, I remembered well. It wasn’t the hand I was desperate to hold; nevertheless Allison’s offer of comfort was welcome.
We sat still, adjusting to the moment. I couldn’t make eye contact with her. Instead, I distracted myself by looking at the recognizable outline of the Big Dipper.
“What’s the matter?” she finally asked.
I hesitated to answer.
“Please,” she persisted. “Let me help. Don’t shut me out anymore.”
I blinked, thinking of my past actions and Kathleen’s need to secure a peaceful future.
“It’s Kathleen,” I confessed while continuing to watch the stars. “I’ll understand if she’s the last person you want to talk about.”
“Will things be all right between the two of you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Last weekend was the first time I’d seen her since we were in Portland.”
I looked at Allison. “Where did you see her?”
“Here. She drove you to the house. You were drunk, so I asked her to take you to her place until you sobered up.”
“Oh? I don’t remember that.”
“You were passed out in her car, so that’s not surprising.” Allison’s grip on my hand tightened just a bit.
I waited to hear what she would reveal next.
“She asked me why I left you.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing, because the question means one of two things. You either haven’t told her why, or she doesn’t trust the information you gave her. Knowing you the way I do, I’m certain it’s both.”
I thought long and hard about Allison’s conclusion. If there was anyone capable of understanding both my mind and Kathleen’s, it was my ex-wife. I looked at her and took the leap of faith.
“She thinks I want you back.”
Allison leaned back as confusion flashed across her face. “Who gave her that idea?”
Allison’s eyes grew wide. “You?”
Jennifer Locklear lives in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States. She married her high school sweetheart, Morgan, in 1995. She is the mother of two children, a son and daughter.
Jennifer enjoyed creative writing as an adolescent, but set aside her favorite hobby to concentrate on college studies, career and family. In 2010, she rediscovered her passion for writing when her husband recruited her to edit his own stories. They co-authored and published their debut novel, Exposure, in 2014.
Since 2000, Jennifer has been employed in fundraising and development for a non-profit organization. She has been a contributing reviewer for the “Bookish Temptations” book blog and is a founding moderator of “Argyle Empire,” an approved fan site for author Sylvain Reynard.
She also enjoys participating in charitable activities, both locally and online.
Constellation is Jennifer’s first solo novel.
Series: A Brett MacLean Duet #1
Author: JM Walker
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 7
It started without trust. Passion. Lust. An all-consuming need; that was all we had in the beginning.
Lies. Betrayal. Deceit. We moved past it all and fell in love anyway.
Over ten years later, with a family of our own, our little world was perfect. Happy.
But then that happiness faded away when she came into our lives.
No control. No power. Just heartbreak and unwanted submission.
We were forced to our knees at the sight of her. The words falling from her lips were like nails digging at our soul because we knew.
We would have to go through hell to get out of this.
And even then, I wasn’t sure if it would be enough.
Our world ended when she came into our lives. No control. No power. Just heartbreak and unwanted submission. We were forced to our knees at the sight of her. The words falling from her lips were like nails digging at our soul because we knew there was no way out of this.
It wasn’t her fault. None of it was. She was a lowly pawn in this fucked up world we called life. There was nothing any of us could do but wait.
Ever since I was a small boy, I had made it my mission to be in control of everything around me. My career. Women. Sex. Money. Alcohol. I strived to be an asshole so no one could get into my heart.
And then she appeared.
Short. Blonde, curly hair. Deep blue eyes that looked into my very soul and knew my secrets before I ever told her.
Evvie Neal was my one, my only.
I tried so hard to be in control when really, she was the Master and I was the ever-willing slave. She captured my heart, reached inside my chest and brought it back to life just by the sound of her laugh.
But as soon as we were happy, as soon as we let our guard down, the foundation of our love cracked.
We worked damn hard for it and I would do everything in my power to build up the walls of our love and make her happy again.
Even if it meant leaving.
J.M. Walker is an Amazon bestselling author who loves all things books, pigs and lip gloss. She is happily married to the man who inspires all of her Heroes and continues to make her weak in the knees every single day.
Cover designer: Okay Creations
Release date: May 1, 2018
As the bus approaches my stop on the Lower East Side, I raise the hood of my black sweatshirt. Anonymity is key in my neighborhood—particularly as a lone female walking at night.
All I want is to leave my crime-ridden shadow of a home in New York City. I’ve done everything I can to keep my head down and focus on my studies. College is my only goal; love has never been on the map…
That is, until my sister brings me to an underground fight, where I meet a gorgeous and mysterious man: Vincent.
He is the ghost in my shadows, showing up to feed me pieces of his upper-crust life, then evaporating into darkness until his next visit. I’m falling hard and fast. How can I trust him amidst the depth of his secrets?
Vincent may be even more dangerous than the dark world I’m trying to escape.
“Carlos is out,” she says in a rush. I look at her face, feeling my stomach sink. She’s playing with the hem of her shirt and glances at me nervously. Finally, her gray-blue eyes bore into mine, and I know that she’s gearing up to tell me some serious shit.
With trembling hands, I put down my coffee mug. “Tell me.”
“Yeah. Well, I heard he made bail—” She stops, clearing her throat. “I also heard that he’s, um, angrier than usual.” She stands, bringing the rest of the carafe of coffee to the table and pouring more into my cup.
I lick my dry lips. “What do you mean?”
She moves to the edge of her seat, pushing sugar my way. “Well, I was on the stoop yesterday. It was my day off. I was hanging out with everyone and listening to Mr. Samson talk about a new jazz club that recently opened up in Harlem. We were all getting high with someone’s hash, shooting the shit—”
“And?” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to get to the point.
“Juan came over, and sat with me.” She slightly shifts her head to the side and presses her lips together. “Well, he told me that Carlos is out now. And, he’s been talking shit all over town that he and you have some unfinished business. Juan wanted to tell me because he’s scared for you. I know he’s an annoying little shit, but after he heard…” her voice trails off.
I blink once, twice, three times.
“There’s more,” she says on an exhale. “Apparently, he hooked up with some girl last night. Beat the shit out of her. Ms. Santini from Three-A was on her way to work and stopped to drop off her trash by the dumpsters. Apparently, she heard a moaning sound. When she saw the girl, her clothes were torn. She was beaten up and started bawling about Carlos…”
My head gets dizzy, but I force myself to hear every detail. “An ambulance took her away, but she was in pretty bad shape.”
I want to ask more questions, but the terror has a clamp on my throat.
“I think you need to stay close to me for a while, okay? The Snakes are getting more aggressive. They want the Blue Houses as their own territory, and it looks like they’re trying to instill some bigger fear on the streets.” She drops her gaze. I know she’s afraid. Every girl in the Blue Houses probably heard the story by now.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll make sure Angelo knows I need to leave before it gets dark out.”
“Good idea. We need to sync our schedules so you aren’t walking alone at night. I’m gonna talk to some other people and try to get their schedules down so that everyone has a buddy or something at night. I’m sure when everyone hears about this, we won’t be the only ones who are scared.” I nod my head and stand up mechanically, rinsing my mug and walking to my room to digest the new information. After grabbing my stuff, I check my purse to make sure that my gun is still inside. I lock myself in the bathroom and load and unload the gun a few times, reacquainting myself with the weapon. If Carlos comes, I’ll be ready for him.
Getting to work, I let Angelo know the details of what’s new with Carlos. He’s angry and continues to tell me that I shouldn’t be so stubborn and I need to let the Borignones get involved. But I refuse. I still don’t want any debts to my name. I’ve made it this far, and I believe I can wait it out a little longer.
Work passes in a blur. I’m convincing a girl to sell her diamond ring while Angelo sells the two violins and a Cartier watch to an elderly couple who want to buy something for their grandchildren.
When the day is done, Angelo insists on calling a car to take me home. I sigh deeply, knowing that the driver will be one of Angelo’s associates. But considering the fact that Carlos is out of jail, I’m not going to complain. I nod my head and take his ride in the name of safety.
I get in the huge black Escalade and see a massive man sitting in the driver’s seat. Swallowing hard, I remind myself that he’s not an enemy, but on my side. He drives me right up to my building and I gingerly walk out, my shaking hand inside my purse, gripping my gun. I’m scared as hell, but it makes me feel a modicum of control. The driver enters the building with me and steps into the elevator as well.
We reach the fourth floor when I tell him he can go. “I can get into my apartment fine now.” He nods his head wordlessly and re-calls the elevator to bring him back downstairs.
I get up to my door without incident and let out the breath I was holding while I pry my fingers off my gun. “I’m okay,” I say out loud, turning my head and letting my gaze run up and down my hallway. It’s empty. I pull out my key and step forward onto my threadbare Welcome mat when I feel like I’ve kicked something. I look down, confused at what’s on the floor. It must be Janelle’s sweater that she dropped on her way out. I bend down to pick it up and freeze.
How to kick off a great summer in the Hamptons:
Snag a gorgeous rental on the beach. Check.
Get a job at a trendy summer haunt. Check.
How to screw up a great summer in the Hamptons:
Fall for the one guy with a dark leather jacket, scruff on his face, and intense eyes that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the tony looking crowd. A guy you can’t have when you’ll be leaving at the end of the season.
Check. Check. Check.
I should add—especially when the guy is your sexy, tattooed God of a boss.
Especially when he not only owns your place of employment but inherited half of the town.
Especially when he’s mean to you.
Or so I thought.
Until one night when he demanded I get in his car so he could drive me home because he didn’t want me walking in the dark.
That was sort of how it all started with Rush.
And then little by little, some of the walls of this hardass man started to come down.
I never expected that the two of us, seemingly opposites from the outside, would grow so close.
I wasn’t supposed to fall for the rebel heir, especially when he made it clear he didn’t want to cross the line with me.
As the temperature turned cooler, the nights became hotter. My summer became a lot more interesting—and complicated.
All good things must come to an end, right?
Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.
Rebel Heir is the first book in the Rush Series Duet. Book Two, Rebel Heart, will release six weeks later on May, 22, 2018.
Add to Goodreads ➜ Rebel Heir (Book One)
Add to Goodreads ➜Rebel Heart (Book Two)
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Note: No Amazon ebook pre-order. Will be live on release day.
Rebel Heart Pre-order links ➜ http://www.booksneakpeek.com/therushduet.html
“All done.” I found Gia in the yard sunbathing. Of course, she had to be lying on her stomach so I could get a closer look at her ass. It was fucking phenomenal. Like a chubby, upside-down heart from where I stood. I’d spent the last hour pretend fixing her car and picturing her riding me reverse cowgirl, those ass cheeks jiggling like fucking Jell-O while she rode me hard. I had to force my eyes to her face and clear my throat to continue. “Here are your keys. Your rotors were shot, too. In the future, don’t ride on bad brakes. It just turns a little problem into a big one.”
She shielded her eyes from the sun and twisted her neck to look up at me, still not flipping over to her stomach. “Oh. Okay. Thanks. Can I make you some lunch? It’s the least I can do to repay you for hours of working on my car.”
Is that ass on the menu?
“No. I have to get going.”
She lifted from flat on her stomach to on her knees in a yoga-like pose, taking her sweet ass time before turning over.
“Are you sure?” She bit her bottom lip. “You’ve had to have worked up an appetite.”
Is she fucking with me? I had an appetite alright. “I gotta run.”
I sounded like a broken record, yet here I still stood. My head wanted to get the fuck out of that yard, but my traitorous feet wouldn’t move. Not even when she stood up, turned around and practically rubbed her ass against me as she held up suntan lotion. “Could you rub some sunscreen on my back before you go? I don’t want to burn.”
I took the sunscreen and squeezed a glob of creamy white lotion into the palm of my hand. Swallowing hard, I began to rub it into her back. Her shoulders were warm and soft with the tiniest little layer of fuzz on it. It reminded me of a peach. My mouth salivated at the thought of biting into her.
“Could you do a little lower?”
My breathing became labored and my cock swelled as I lowered my hands and rubbed into the middle of her back. I was breaching into dangerous territory.
“Lower” she said. I knew from her breathy voice that I wasn’t the only one aroused.
I lowered to just above her bathing suit bottom and rubbed lotion all over.
When I finished, she turned her head so I could see the side of her face and closed her eyes to whisper, “lower.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I reached for the creamy sunscreen and squeezed enough into my hand to cover a large person’s full body and then began to rub it into her ass cheeks. She had the most unique heart-shaped mole on her left side that was perfectly symmetrical. I ran my fingertips over it. When I trailed a pool of lotion to the top of her ass crack, and slowly rubbed it in tracing the material of her bathing suit in between her cheeks, she let out a low moan.
More. Make more sounds like that.
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over ninety Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty languages. She resides 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.
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over a million books sold, she is a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over fifteen novels, including RoomHate which hit #2 on the New York Times bestseller list and #1 on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list. Other New York Times bestsellers include Stepbrother Dearest, Neighbor Dearest, Drunk Dial, Cocky Bastard, Stuck-Up Suit, Playboy Pilot and Mister Moneybags (the latter four co-written with Vi Keeland).
Connect with Penelope Ward
Other books by the authors:
Kobo: http:// bit.ly/1RJdUif
Barnes & Noble http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m
Dear Bridget, I Want You
Amazon: ➜ http://amzn.to/2sGyJbZ
iBooks: ➜ http://smarturl.it/y4x3xi
B&N ➜ http://smarturl.it/o780mb
Other books from Vi Keeland:
Sex, Not Love
Amazon ➜ http://amzn.to/2DtUO0L
iBooks ➜ http://smarturl.it/vlfabb
B&N ➜ http://smarturl.it/hivkor
Kobo ➜ http://smarturl.it/9bxfwx
Google Play ➜ http://smarturl.it/19muiq
Audio ➜ http://smarturl.it/qbf0bs
Amazon eBook http://amzn.to/2uoeoJN
B&N: http:// bit.ly/BarnesBaller
Kobo: http:// bit.ly/KoboBaller
Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)
First Thing I See
Life on Stage series (2 standalone books)
http://www.amazon.com/Beat-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00ZOMUV12/ http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beat-vi-keeland/1121715501 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/beat/id983959123 https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/beat-5
MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books)
Worth the Fight
Worth the Chance
The Cole Series (2 book serial)
Belong to You
Made for You
Other books from Penelope Ward:
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2C9ESTm
Audio : http://amzn.to/2nHRlVQ
Sins of Sevin
Jake Undone (Jake #1)
Jake Understood (Jake #2)
Impact by Danielle Norman releases March 15th!
Check out this sneak peek then pre-order your copy on Amazon or iTunes!!!
“Did you have fun with the girls?”
“Yeah. They’re nice and scary.”
“Scary how?” I reached forward and placed my hand on top of hers and was pleased when she didn’t pull away.
“I wouldn’t ever want to be on their bad side.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, and the smell of her perfume hit me. Whatever the scent was, it seemed to fit her, and I leaned back against the couch, breathing it in. When I looked to her again, she was smiling.
Since the first time I’d met her, every time I’d been near her and watched her lips move, I wanted to kiss them. Or rub my thumbs across her forehead and smooth out the crease that formed when she was deep in thought. I was stunned to realize that there were several little things that I had already memorized about this woman in such a short time. And that one little kiss we’d had yesterday wasn’t enough, I wasn’t sure if it would ever be enough.
A stray strand of hair fell across her face, and I didn’t fight back the urge to tuck it behind her ear. I rested my thumb on the apple of her cheek as I lightly caressed her face. Without moving my thumb, I stretched my fingers that were cradling her head until I could feel her silky locks of hair. She was gazing deep into my eyes, and I was fucked. I’d fallen hard for Katy, my assistant.
I thought for a moment about telling her everything, was it better for both of us to come clean or wait until she returned the feelings? Fuck, why wasn’t this shit easy? There needed to be some motherfucking handbook.
You want a girl to admit that she likes you, turn to chapter seven.
You want a girl to ask for help, turn to page twelve.
As this point, I was willing to read instructions in Japanese and hire a translator just to get answers.
The first question I’d look up in that manual would be how to admit you had known she was living in one of your model homes. Sure, Elliot from SpyGuys had said that what I was doing was standard video security. But my conscience knew the difference. Once I had seen her, the only security I used it for was my own. I wanted to know that they were safe.
They always say that two wrongs don’t make a right…
Well, she was wrong for breaking into a house that didn’t belong to her; even if she and her daughter had nowhere else to go.
And, I was wrong for watching her on the surveillance camera as she moved through the house and climbed into bed.
So I offered her a job and a home.
Wrong has never felt so right.
Now, I want to make the biggest impact yet…
I want to make her mine.
Impact is volume 3 in the Iron Orchids Series but may be read and enjoyed as a standalone contemporary romance.
Danielle is a Harley riding romance writer. Most days she can be found in jeans, t-shirts, and pearls (she’s a lady like that).
Danielle writes about men that will open the door for you during the day and throw you against them at night. She loves stories that will make you laugh and fall in love without all of the emotional baggage faced every day in our real lives.
And her talent is the ability to tell the difference between a rye, wheat, corn, or potato vodka in just 1 sip, but she prefers a few glasses just to be certain.
Find Danielle online!
Only You, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is coming March 12th!
Nate Pearson is ridiculously handsome and wears the hell out of a suit and tie, but I’ve seen the parade of beautiful women leaving his apartment across the hall—a different one every time—and I want no part of it. When it comes to romance, I’m looking for something real, something that will last: the happily ever after.
As a divorce attorney, he loves to tell me there’s no such thing.
As a wedding planner, I choose to disagree.
We disagree on almost everything, in fact. Everything except James Bond. The only time we really get along is when we’re watching 007 flicks together, and I’ll admit—he has rescued me from a disaster or five. So when one of the baton twirlers from his parade leaves a baby girl at his door with a note that says “I’ll come back for her” and he begs me for help, I can’t turn him down.
But it’s a mistake.
Because watching him with his daughter, I start to see another side of Nate, a side that has my breath coming faster, my body craving his, my heart longing for him to change his mind about love and tell me there’s a chance for us.
I don’t want to be just another girl leaving his apartment in the morning.
I want to be the one he asks to stay.
“You know, even an alpha male can have feelings occasionally.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, giving me the evil eye. “Yes. He doesn’t have to be hard as granite all the way through, all the time.”
Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. I leaned back against the opposite counter and sort of held my glass in front of my crotch. “Why are you even concerned with alpha males? You’re never attracted to them.”
“What? Yes, I am!”
“No, you’re not.” I knew her type well. “You’re always saying how you don’t want to be rescued, you want someone willing to show affection and talk about feelings, you don’t like arrogant or competitive guys or guys who always have to win, you like guys who get along with everyone—”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. But that’s not an alpha male.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “But look at Bond. Who is he so worried about protecting? Why is he so driven to kill the bad guys? There must be people he cares about more than himself to put himself in harm’s way so often.”
“Maybe he just likes the thrill of the chase.”
“Maybe he’s more selfless than you think.”
“In this case, I think we’re going to have to disagree.”
She sighed heavily, and I knew I had disappointed her by ending the argument in a draw instead of winning or losing it. Any other night, I might have kept it going, but there was something odd going on with me, something that had me wanting to close the distance between us, set her up on the counter, slip my hands beneath that fuzzy white sweater she had on, see what her legs felt like wrapped around my hips. But I knew better.
Get her out of here before you do something stupid.
“Hey, you got fortune cookies? I didn’t see those.” She reached for the little cellophane bag.
“I forgot about them.”
“Can I have one?”
“You can have them both.”
She took one out and cracked it open. “A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not why ships are built.”
She ignored me and went on to the next one. “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Her lips pursed. “Hm. I don’t want a dangerous ship or a broken heart.”
I laughed at the anguish in her tone and expression.
“It’s not funny,” she said, shoving pieces of cookie in her mouth. “It means I’m doomed to be unhappy. And then I’m going to die in a shipwreck.”
“It means you take things way too seriously.” I tipped back the last of the bourbon in my glass, and set it in the sink. “Well, I’ve got an early morning at the gym tomorrow.”
She popped the rest of one cookie in her mouth and brushed off her hands. “I’m going. What time is it anyway?”
I checked the digital clock on the microwave. “It’s 11:11.”
Her face lit up. “Ooh! Make a wish!”
“It’s 11:11, you have to make a wish.” She closed her eyes for a couple seconds, her lips moving as if saying a silent prayer. Then she opened them. “Did you do it?”
I laughed. “No.”
“Nate! Hurry up! Make a wish.” She glanced at the clock and flapped her hands agitatedly.
“I don’t have a wish to make.”
“So make one for me, then. And do it fast, before it’s 11:12.”
This time it was my turn to roll my eyes, but secretly I wished that the next guy she fell in love with would love her back the way she deserved, and she’d be happy. But I didn’t close my eyes, and I didn’t move my lips, so she had no idea whether I’d made a wish or not.
“Did you do it?” She looked concerned.
Her mouth fell open for a second. “What was it? What did you wish for me?”
I started to laugh as I left the kitchen. “Nice try, Calamity. Even I know you don’t tell a wish if you want it to come true.” The credits were still rolling on the television, and I picked up the remote to turn everything off.
“Oh, now you believe in wishes?” She sat down on the couch and tugged on her fluffy boots.
No, I wanted to tell her. I don’t, because I learned a long time ago that wishes and prayers and hopes don’t mean anything. No one is listening. But I didn’t tell her that, not only because she was looking up at me with my favorite expression of hers, the one daring me to fight back, but because at that very moment, I heard a noise in the hall.
A strange and oddly terrifying noise.
I looked over my shoulder toward the door, thinking I must have imagined the sound.
Then I heard it again—the unmistakable, ball-shrinking, cringe-inducing sound of a baby’s wail.
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 VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.
Melanie is the author of the 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.
Connect with Melanie:
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WRECKING US SAVING YOU by Leaona Luxx is set to release March 8th!
Add this Contemporary Romance to your TBR on Goodreads today!
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“Talk to me.”
“Nothing, brother. Are you sure she was coming to school after?” I know Thayer’s trying to help, but so help me—I can’t with this.
“Yes, I’m positive. You know she would tell me,” I growl.
“Okay, alright. Just double checking.” She sighs. “What are you doing?”
“I just turned onto the highway, I’m hauling ass to her house.”
“Please be careful, you know how Lisa feels about you,” Thayer warns me with good intentions.
“Fuck her, like she gives a shit about Sarah,” I bark at her. “I’m sorry. I’m fucking scared.”
“Brother, I’m scared too. But you have to calm down, you’re not gonna do her any good being this upset.” She tries to calm me as best she can, but it’s not helping.
“I know!” I yell as the light turns green, and I spin my tires.
“Chord, slow down. You’ll not be any help if you wreck.” Her voice wavers as my stomach takes a pitfall.
I turn into her mobile home park, driving straight to her place. I shove my stick into park, licking my dry lips. “I’m here, give me five.” I don’t even let her answer before hanging up and jumping from my SUV.
I scan the area, looking for anyone who can tell me anything. Nothing, it’s like no one’s home. I take the steps two at a time. Pounding on the door the second I can. No answer.
I walk around the trailer, checking doors and windows, but there’s no sign of anyone. I rub my forehead, my heart racing. I close my eyes, trying to regain my senses. “Go home, maybe she’ll call,” I convince myself.
I drive the long way home, searching every bus stop and bench in the city. She’s nowhere to be found. There’s still no texts or a call. I’ve never been so pissed and frightened at the same time in my life. “Please, Lord, let her be alright. She means… everything to me.” I wipe the fledgling tears away as I make my way home.
I’m not even parked before One’s at my door. I shake my head. “She wasn’t there, One.” When my brother wraps his arms around me, I allow my fears to take me, and I cry.
“She’s gonna be alright, we’ll find her.” He pats my back, trying to calm my trembling body.
“Chord,” Dad calls my name, helping me to pull myself together. “We can’t make a formal report until tomorrow. Come on in, let me write down what you know.”
“Baby boy, come in, you’re a mess.” Mom slips her arm around my waist as One releases his hold.
“I know something’s wrong, I can feel it.” I stumble through the door.
We spend the rest of the evening going over everything I know. Her texts, where she was going, and the last time anyone heard from her. It was Thayer, she called my sister last. I’m a little surprised as to how I feel about that fact.
Watching as the sky turns dark, my body quakes with fear. Sarah hates the night, with good reason. I try to keep my mind busy, thinking of what could be happening to her has me freaking out.
I pace the foyer, waiting on Dad’s friend to arrive, he’s a detective. I refused to go to school today. It’s been twenty-four hours since I’ve heard from Sarah. I couldn’t even sleep last night, so school isn’t a priority.
Leaona, also known as Lea, lives with her husband, Lu in southern WV. A mother of three sons and mother in law to three amazing woman. She enjoys spending time with her furbabies, Kaylea (cat) and Frankie (beagle), watching Carolina Panthers and Marshall University Football, reading, writing, gardening, crafts, NASCAR, TWD, HGTV, hot rods, and surf fishing.
Hero, an all-new sexy standalone romance by Lauren Rowe is coming March 12th!
A standalone contemporary romance in the MORGAN BROTHERS SERIES from USA Today Bestselling Author Lauren Rowe. The story of firefighter Colby Morgan that proves heroes come in many forms . .
The first time I laid eyes on Lydia Decker, I couldn’t speak. Or breathe. Or string two coherent thoughts together.
And I don’t mean any of that figuratively.
I’m not talking about a guy being floored by the sight of a gorgeous woman—although, of course, Lydia is gorgeous beyond words.
No, when I first laid eyes on Lydia Decker—my physical therapist—I was lying flat on my back in the ICU, high as a kite on painkillers, breathing on a ventilator, my bones as broken and splintered as my spirit.
When I first laid eyes on Lydia Decker, she was a ray of light in the dark. Hope for the hopeless. A salve for my singed and battered soul.
She said she’d been assigned to fix me. That she was there to bring me back to life. She said helping me was her calling.
And then she touched me. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. She healed me.
And I fell in love.
But what I didn’t know . . . what I couldn’t possibly know . . . was that Lydia Decker needed fixing far more than I ever did.
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“Okay, everyone. I’m sorry to shut this party down, but it’s closing time at the bar. Colby and I have some physical therapy to do.”
Relief floods me. That’s exactly what I was wishing she’d do—clear them all out so we can be alone.
Goodbyes are said. Hugs are administered. And, finally, blessedly, it’s just Lydia and me. “Alone at last, Mr. Morgan,” she says, taking the seat next to my bed.
I slide my hand in hers. “Alone at last, Miss Decker. There is a God.”
She smiles. “You might not say that after I get through with you. Some of what we’re going to do together is going to be extremely frustrating for you, I’m sure.”
“Bring it, beautiful lady. As long as you’re the one administering the torture, I’ll enjoy every second of it.” She rolls her eyes.
“Okay, Mr. Flirty Pants. Enough with that. Let’s get serious for a second. Okay?”
I smile broadly. “What? I can’t say you’re beautiful? Because you are. You’re drop dead gorgeous, actually. I’ve never seen a more spectacularly gorgeous woman in my life.”
She’s fighting not to smile too big and it’s adorable. “Thank you. Sweet of you to say. Incredibly ridiculous, but sweet. Unfortunately, though, we don’t have time to sit here and talk about my earth-shattering beauty all day. You’re not my only patient.”
“I wish I were.”
“So do I.”
My heart lurches.
She clears her throat. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said that.”
She blushes. “Momentary insanity brought on by your outrageous charm.” She takes a deep breath like she’s pressing some internal restart button. “Okay. In all seriousness. This is going to be a long, hard road for you, Colby. But I want you to know you’re not walking it alone. Inch by inch, step by step, I’ll be right here with you, okay? My job is helping you get back to being you as quickly as possible.”
Electricity surges through my veins, and not because of her words. Because of the zap I feel through the touch of our palms. Her incredible energy is physically palpable. “Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes locked with hers, my fingers zipping and zapping with the influx of her energy into my body. “I wouldn’t want to be on this journey with anyone but you, Lydia. I don’t want anyone else.”
About Lauren Rowe
USA Today and internationally bestselling author Lauren Rowe lives in San Diego, California, where, in addition to writing books, she performs with her dance/party band at events all over Southern California, writes songs, takes embarrassing snapshots of her ever- patient Boston terrier, Buster, spends time with her family, and narrates audiobooks. Much to Lauren’s thrill, her books have been translated all over the world in multiple languages and hit multiple domestic and international bestseller lists. To find out about Lauren’s upcoming releases and giveaways, sign up for Lauren’s emails at www.LaurenRoweBooks.com. Lauren loves to hear from readers! Send Lauren an email from her website, say hi on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook by searching for @laurenrowebooks.
Connect with Lauren Rowe
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/laurenrowebooks/
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