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:
Sign up for monthly text alerts: Text HARLOT to 77948
WRECKING US SAVING YOU by Leaona Luxx is set to release March 8th!
Add this Contemporary Romance to your TBR on Goodreads today!
Amazon coming soon!
Support the THUNDERCLAP CAMPAIGN!
“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.
Paperback Pre-Order on Amazon – http://amzn.to/2FfwDnM
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2lRkeOh
“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/
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/laurenrowebooks/
Twitter – https://twitter.com/laurenrowebooks
Website – www.laurenrowebooks.com
“I’m so…not into being with someone right now,” Willow said with a nervous lilt to her words. “Not for a while, anyway.” I heard a whisper on the breeze, or ever again. A heaviness in her eyes hinted she had lost something and had almost given up trying to find it. She hasn’t given up, I thought, a fierce admiration welling in me. That’s why she’s doing the play. To find it again. In that moment, I vowed to try to cut out all the egotistical bullshit and jealousy over Justin. The dance was out of range now anyway. I couldn’t ask her to go even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t. My job was to help her find what she was looking for in Hamlet, however I could. Even as it dented my eagerness to get the hell out of Harmony. Willow shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted at me. “So what about you?” “What about me?” “Do you like anyone?” she asked, her voice a half tone higher than usual. She laughed. “That’s such a high school thing to ask.” “No,” I said. “If all goes to plan, I’m leaving Harmony, remember? Stupid to start something now.” “Sure. Makes sense.” A silence fell. “Yeah, so I probably won’t go to the dance,” Willow said. “I’m not good in that kind of situation anymore.” “What kind of situation?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I should get back.” Willow started to scoot down off the block. I held my hand out to her to help. She hesitated for a fraction of a second and then took it. I held my other hand out and she took that too. I steadied her as she hopped down and then we were standing face to face. Close enough I could see her pale blue eyes had lighter shards of blue in them, like a topaz. Close enough to smell the sweetness of her breath—coffee tinged with sugar. Close enough to dance if we wanted. “Thanks,” Willow said, gazing up at me. “Sure,” I said. I still held her hands. She didn’t let go. “So,” she breathed, still not moving. “Yeah.” I glanced down at our hands. I hadn’t touched something this soft and good in ages. The sleeve of her coat bunched up and I spied a black mark on the inside of her forearm, close to her wrist. Willow drew in a breath as I turned her hand over. An X, about the size of a quarter, was stark on her pale skin. She tugged her hands away. “I really need to get back.” Every instinct cried out to take her hand again, to ask her what the X meant. To lick my thumb and erase it off her skin. I didn’t know what it meant but the sight of it made my stomach feel heavy. “Willow—” “I doodle when I’m bored. I told you that.” Her voice was sharp but her smile wobbled. “Let’s go.”
We walked the short distance back to town wordlessly. Back in front of the theater, Willow shouldered her bag and glanced around. “Thanks for today. I think Martin would be happy with our progress.” “I do too.” God, would he, I thought. “So, I guess I’ll see you Monday?” she said. “You have a ride home?” “Oh, uh…” She still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I was thinking of walking.” “To Emerson Hills?” I said. “That’s a mile and a half and it’s getting dark soon.” She raised her brows. “I’m not allowed to walk in the dark?” “You’re allowed,” I said, “but I don’t want you to.”
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.
Growing up, the three of us were friends.
He was the nerd.
I was the playboy.
She was the beauty.
Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits.
I went off to college, and he got the girl.
Amber never knew how I felt.
They were together for years—before he broke her heart.
Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch.
When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.
Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men.
One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life. She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings.
Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.
Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message.
She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend— me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.)
Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Nine at a hotel.
When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she got the surprise of her life to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse.
**No Amazon e-book preorder. Will go live on/around release day **
Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers.
That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.
My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.
I read it again.
I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory.
She wanted to use another man to f*ck me out of her system?
That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as f*ck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-year-old girl with autism and a 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.
Connect with Penelope Ward
Other standalones from Penelope Ward:
Dear Bridget, I Want You: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Mister Moneybags: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Playboy Pilot: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Stuck-Up Suit: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Cocky Bastard: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Sins of Sevin:
Jake Undone (Jake #1):
Jake Understood (Jake #2):
INK, an all new opposites attract, Contemporary Romance by Elizabeth Hunter is coming March 13th!
It’s everything but business as usual.
Emmie Elliot hadn’t expected to come back to Metlin, California. She definitely didn’t expect to stay. She returned to her childhood home with a mission: Sell the building that housed her grandmother’s book store and move on with her life.
But life doesn’t always go according to plan.
To reopen her grandmother’s book shop, Emmie will need a hook. She’ll need a strategy. She’ll need an… Ox?
Miles Oxford doesn’t have much interest in quiet bookstore owners. He’s a tattoo artist without a space to work, and the last thing he wants is to get involved with anyone after his last disaster of a relationship. Work and pleasure don’t mix for Ox, but since he doesn’t have any interest in the cute girl with the bold business proposal, he should be safe from any awkward complications, right?
She sells ink. He tattoos it. Unusual? Yes. But a book shop/tattoo studio might be the ticket for both Emmie and Ox to find success on their own terms. As long as they keep their attention focused on business.
Just on business.
Amazon US – http://amzn.to/2D6nufg
Amazon UK – http://amzn.to/2Dzntl6
Amazon CA – http://amzn.to/2r8bpoq
iTunes – https://apple.co/2Dgabgj
Nook – http://bit.ly/2Di4qOo
Kobo – http://bit.ly/2my3sDi
Smashwords – http://bit.ly/2mGbj2x
Add to Goodreads – http://bit.ly/2DC5Ktm
The sign Ox was painting in the alley would hang over the 7th Avenue door. It simply read INK.
INK. What else could they call it? Books and tattoos. Tattoos and books. Ink.
They were doing this, and Emmie asked herself every morning if she was making a horrible, awful mistake.
“It’s not too late to call it off,” Daisy said. “Then you can find a nice children’s retailer to work with while I convince Ox that the two of you are meant for each other.” Daisy had hopped on the INK train and immediately hopped off when Emmie had told her about Ox’s condition.
“Don’t be ridiculous and keep your voice down,” Emmie said. The shop was finally clean, the shelves were empty with all salvable stock boxed and organized, and Emmie was standing on a ladder, starting the new coat of vanilla cream paint that would set off the dark oak bookshelves and the counters that Ethan and his dad had ordered.
“You and Ox would be great together,” Daisy hissed, glancing toward the back hallway that led to the alley. “I was thinking about setting you up. I was just waiting for him to break up with Ginger.”
“You are full of it. He may be hot, but I am the opposite of his type.” Emmie started the paint and immediately let out a happy sigh. Everything was better with fresh paint.
“He is a twenty-eight year old man,” Daisy said. “Trust me, he doesn’t know what type is good for him.”
“Good for him? What about me?”
“Trust me. That man would be very good for you. Or parts of you, at least.”
Emmie rolled her eyes. “We are starting a business together. Not getting involved was a smart condition, and I agreed immediately because I am a grown up and business is more important than my hormones.”
“And then you died a little inside,” Daisy said sadly. “Because you will linger alone, a poor village girl, slave to her virtue, never having felt the fire of passion in your too-short life.”
Emmie laughed so hard she snorted and almost smudged the woodwork. “Have you been watching telenovelas in the kitchen again?”
“I swear, Eddie works faster when they’re on in the background,” Daisy said. “I think I’m absorbing them subconsciously.”
About Elizabeth Hunter
ELIZABETH HUNTER is a contemporary fantasy, paranormal romance, and paranormal mystery author. She is a graduate of the University of Houston Honors College and a former English teacher. She once substitute taught a kindergarten class, but decided that middle school was far less frightening. She’s the author of the Elemental Mysteries, the Irin Chronicles, and the Cambio Springs Mysteries.
Follow Elizabeth Hunter
Facebook – http://bit.ly/2h8FFYn
Website – http://elizabethhunterwrites.com/
Sign up for her Newsletter – http://bit.ly/2czr74u
Twitter – https://twitter.com/ehunterwrites/
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/ehunterwrites/
Amazon – http://amzn.to/2hK4BWE
p style=”text-align: center;”>Goodreads – http://bit.ly/2hKIQWN
Up in Smoke, an all-new gritty standalone romance by T.M. Frazier is coming February 19th, 2018!
I’m a man without a conscience.
I deal in murder and mayhem.
I’m the best at what I do.
Frankie Helburn is supposed to be an easy job.
A means to flush her father out of hiding.
Except there isn’t anything simple about Frankie or the secrets she’s keeping.
She’s stubborn as hell and the sexiest god damn thing I have ever seen, sending dark, dirty animalistic desire coursing through my veins.
She’s cocaine with legs. A f*cking addiction that makes me question things I’ve never questioned before. Want things I’ve never wanted before.
I might have her, but she isn’t mine to keep.
If her father doesn’t show his face, she will be mine.
** Other books in the King Series DO NOT have to be read to enjoy Smoke’s book. Up in Smoke can be read as a standalone. **
“All these bruises,” Smoke muses. “And not one of them caused by me.” He trails a hand up my arms and down my flat stomach. “Pity, but I still have time to leave my mark on you yet.”
My entire body stiffens. I’m as rigid as a corpse.
Smoke chuckles and I’m glad I’m facing away because his laugh is pure torture, causing his erection to vibrate against my folds which are aching for more contact.
“You will be punished, hellion. You can be sure of that.”
I look over my shoulder and meet his dark eyes which darken even further as his pupils dilate. His lingering gaze rakes me over from my feet to my breasts and back down to the space between my thighs. He licks his full bottom lip.
My stomach flips. My will to fight him off doesn’t waiver, but my body isn’t getting the message. My core clenches again. I turn back around to face the tile, digging my teeth into my lower lip until I taste my own blood.
His chest presses against my back, and his hardness pulses between my legs, rubbing against my inner thighs. He squirts some shampoo in his hand, working it into my hair. He tilts my head back and rinses my hair then slides his slick and soapy hand down my body.
I’m breathing rapidly now. Short quick breaths I can’t control. There’s a deep rumble in his throat. His hand travels lower and lower on my stomach until it’s between my legs. He’s working his thumb over my swollen nub, sending sparks of need, pangs of pleasure, and a wave of self-hatred, surging within my battered body and bruised soul.
“What…what are you doing?” I ask, seeing flashes of white hot lust behind my closed eyes.
“More questions…” his voice a hearty amused rasp. His fingers circle my clit while he continues to rock his hard cock between my legs. The pressure building is so strong it borders on painful.
Tears leak from my eyes. I’m so fucking mad at myself for being turned on. For Smoke being right. I’m so wet. He feels it. There’s no way he can’t feel it.
He leans in close. I’m stone still except for the tremors gripping my body. He licks the tear off my cheek and groans. He dips the tip of his finger inside of me and I tighten around the intrusion. It’s a foreign sensation. Strange. It feels both wrong and right. Pleasurable and painful. “Your tight little pussy is weeping too. I wonder if its tears taste the same.”
I look over my shoulder as he withdraws his finger and sucks it into his mouth. He groans. “Fear or desire. They both taste real fuckin’ good to me.”
He places his hand back between my legs. When I try to squeeze my thighs together to keep him out he parts them with his knee on a grunt and begins circling my clit again. This time harder. Faster.
I’m staying as still as I can, but when I feel something begin to happen inside my body. The sparks he ignited within me are all crashing together. I can’t hold back. My face scrunches as I try to fight the orgasm fighting its way out, but it’s no use. I can’t fight it. It’s too fucking strong. I’m so fucking close.
I arch my back without thinking, pressing my ass against him, begging for more. For what I need to push me over the edge.
Smoke hisses. “Oh, what I could do to this beautiful little pussy.”
The pleasure builds and builds as he strokes me harder. Faster. I’m about to come all over his fingers when the feeling is lost.
I spin around.
Smoke is gone.
I can’t see through the steam so I shut off the spray and wipe the water from my eyes only to see Smoke toweling off in front of the sink on the other side of the bathroom.
The only proof I have of what just happened between us was real is his cock. Erect. Thick. Huge. The purplish swollen head bobs against his abs, jutting out over the top of the towel he wraps around his waist.
“What…what just happened?” I stammer, leaning back against the wall for support.
Smoke steps forward, and when I go to jerk back, he reaches out and pinches my nipple painfully hard. I yelp and leap back, slipping on the tile, falling on my ass, taking the shower curtain down with me.
Smoke rips the curtain off my head and glares down at me with a triumphant grin on his evil beautiful face. “What just happened was called punishment and you got off easy. Next time I’ll split that tight pussy in two with my fucking cock.”
He goes to leave but stops. “You want pain?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you. You want pleasure? Now that’s something you’re gonna have to earn.”
He leaves, slamming the door behind him.
I release a shaky exhale.
I’d hoped the rest of my time with Smoke would be tolerable, but there’s no fucking way that’s going to happen. Not now. Not with my skin crawling with need. I’m losing my mind. About where I am. About what this is all about. About this beautiful horrible evil man.
I feel like I’ve already been split in two.
What Smoke is doing to me is far more than punishment.
It’s pure fucking torture.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2y05HHR
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2wcnoPR
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2xpURHV
About the Author:
T.M.Frazier is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and her young daughter.
When she’s not writing she loves talking to her readers, country music, reading and traveling. Her debut novel, The Dark Light of Day was published in September of 2013 and when she started writing it she intended for it to be a light beachy romance.
Well…it has a beach in it!
Connect with T.M. Frazier:
Stay up to date with T.M. by signing up for her newsletter today:
FOUND by Claudia Burgoa is now LIVE!
Special sale price is 99 cents!
All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to choose me. My mother didn’t. My father didn’t. The beautiful boy next door, who grew up to marry me, didn’t. Neither did the next man with whom I thought my heart was safe.
Back in the Bay area, three thousand miles from New York City, I can start fresh. Become one with the sea again, rise or fall on the tide of my own choices. But on the first day of my bright new life, the darkest shadows of my past follow me through my office door. The two men whose names are definitely not on my five-year plan.
If I let it consume me—my need for one man, my love for the other—the darkness will swallow me whole. I can’t let that happen. Not again. This time, the waves of emotion crashing against my heart won’t drown me. This time, I get to choose my happy ending.
It’s time to get back to the hotel. Fitz and I have been helping Hazel set up her apartment. Installing the sound system was the last thing on her list, and I’m almost done. But I don’t want this day to end. Not yet.
I don’t want to leave her.
I want to bask in the light of the infectiously cute smile she wears everywhere she goes.
I want to stay with her for the rest of the night.
Forever—if she allows it.
Hazel Beesley has been warming my cold soul since the moment I met her. She isn’t like any women I’ve come across. I met her the summer she came to live with her grandfather.
Everything about Hazel captured my heart from the beginning. Her big eyes, long braids, wicked smile and a smart mouth. Her luscious, full lips. The eagerness to learn and help people. Behind the professional hard shell she shows to the world, there’s a smart, sensitive, caring woman. She adores her family and helps everyone around her.
My relationship with her has been by stages. The big crush happened when I met her. Slowly, I fell in love with her, and one day, we kissed. In that instant, her air became mine, and my soul was branded with her name. Her presence calms the demons inside my head. She knows most of my secrets and my fears. Hazel held my hand while we face my most significant challenges.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Harrison, my oldest brother.
Harrison: Where are you?
Scott: San Francisco.
Harrison: Why am I not surprised? Are you and Hazel getting back together?
I snort. That’s the plan, but there’s a complication.
Scott: I’m working on it.
Harrison: If I could, I’d talk some reason into her, but … you fucked up, and I can’t help you.
No one can help me. I let out a long, frustrated breath. Harrison is her best friend. They are so similar. According to him, I have a hefty price to pay before she forgives me. Then, I must grovel, and maybe we will salvage something. At least, that’s what he said after Christmas.
Scott: It’s back to square one. I have to remind her how great we are together.
Harrison: That puzzles me. That the two of you fit just right. You are so different. And yet, you stayed together for a long time.
He’s right. On the surface, we don’t look compatible. However, deep down we fit perfectly. Like a key in its lock, I belong to her. It’s in the way she makes me feel. The yearning when she’s away. The joy I experience when she’s steps away from me. She holds the power in our relationship, not me.
Scott: I regret being a coward, and letting her slip out of my hands knowing that this day would come. The day she’d move back to San Francisco and see the boy she fell in love with since they were kids.
Harrison: Well, you better apply yourself before she sees him.
Jesus, I rub the back of my neck. What am I doing here?
Scott: This might be a lost battle. She already saw him.
Claudia is an award-winning, international bestselling author. She lives in Colorado working for a small IT company, managing her household filled with three confused dogs, two daughters wrought with fandoms and a son who thinks he’s the boss of the house. And a wonderful husband who shares her love for all things geek. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact.
J.T. Geissinger’s next novel, MIDNIGHT VALENTINE, releases February 6th and we cannot wait! Get a sneak peek below and be sure to preorder your copy now!
About MIDNIGHT VALENTINE
Publishing February 6th, 2018
True love never dies.
Megan and Cassidy were childhood sweethearts who thought they would be together forever. Fate had other plans. Soon after they were married, Cass’s life was tragically cut short. Still grieving her soul mate five years later, Megan moves to the small town of Seaside, Oregon, hoping to rebuild her life.
Her first night there, she meets the town recluse, Theo. Withdrawn, guarded, and mysteriously silent since a terrible accident left him scarred, Theo takes an instant and inexplicable dislike to Megan. But as their paths cross again and again, Megan becomes convinced there’s more to Theo than meets the eye.
When she discovers the reason for his silence, his nightmares, and especially his pointed dislike, Megan becomes convinced of something far more astonishing.
Is a second chance at a once-in-a-lifetime love possible, or is a broken heart the cruelest kind of liar?
Add MIDNIGHT VALENTINE to your Goodreads list here!
Preorder MIDNIGHT VALENTINE now and read for free with KindleUnlimited: http://amzn.to/2iQ94Hh
Read an excerpt from MIDNIGHT VALENTINE:
“Hi, there, Megan, this is Coop.”
“Hi, Coop. What’s up?”
Long, awkward pause.
“Uh…I’m still standin’ outside your house.”
I walk to the windows, and there he is, out on the sidewalk near his truck.
“Are you having car problems?”
“No, I’m, uh, just waitin’ on Theo. He’s comin’ out to see you. I texted him what you said, and, uh…” Coop clears his throat. “Well, anyway, he’s on his way. I thought I’d give you a heads-up.”
The circus never stops with this guy. “That’s unfortunate, Coop, because I just got off the phone with Craig from Capstone. He’s going to handle the job.”
Coop scoffs. “Craig? That self-important S.O.B.? You like flushin’ your money down the toilet?”
“No, I don’t. Which is why I negotiated a discount.”
“Lemme guess. He probably quoted you…” He thinks for a moment, looking up at the house, then names a number which is only a few hundred dollars off from Craig’s quote, which is very irritating.
“You seem like a nice guy, Coop, but this conversation is pointless, considering your boss has no interest in working with me.”
“I never said that,” he says quickly. Our gazes meet through the window. I see how serious he is suddenly, his easy grin nowhere in sight.
“I wasn’t going to tell him you did,” I say, sensing this is somehow a matter of great importance.
When Coop blows out a breath, looking relieved, my hunch is proven right. Before I can say anything else, however, he straightens, looking down the street.
“He’s here.” He flashes me a look full of warning, then hangs up, steps out into the street, and holds up a hand.
Fascinated, I watch as a classic Mustang slowly rolls up the street, engine rumbling. It’s black, with windows tinted so dark I can’t see inside, and chrome wheels that gleam in the sun. The car stops in the middle of the street, then Coop walks over and bends down to the driver’s side window.
Several minutes pass and Coop is still standing there, talking to Theo. Or drawing pictures or whatever it is he does to communicate with Mr. Incommunicado.
“What the hell is it with this guy?” I mutter, growing more irritated by the moment.
Finally Coop straightens and the Mustang pulls up to the curb. The engine shuts off. I want to look away, but I’m rooted to the spot, staring out the front parlor window, waiting for what feels like an eternity until the driver’s door opens and Theo steps out.
It’s my first thought when his broad shoulders rise up over the roof of the car. I’ve only seen him in a raincoat, his head covered, but now I see he has a lot of thick, black hair, the length past the collar of his leather jacket. It’s messy. Windswept and untamed, like he only ever combs it with his fingers.
When he turns and looks toward the house, it’s like he knew exactly where I was standing. Our eyes meet with the sensation of a key fitting into a lock: a smooth, inevitable click.
A tremor runs through me, something close to fear but more primal, a pulse of restless energy that makes me want to break into a run.
I’ve never met anyone with more naked emotion in his eyes. His face is stony, but his eyes burn with a thousand unspoken things, all of which are dark.
I resist the urge to step back. We stare at each other until it becomes uncomfortable. I move first, turning to head to the front door, taking deep breaths to calm the sudden throbbing of my heart.
When I open the door, Coop and Theo are walking up the brick pathway toward the porch. Coop is in the lead, smiling nervously. “Hi, Megan!” he calls, as if he hasn’t seen me in forever.
“Hi, Coop. Long time no see.”
Coop ambles up the steps onto the porch that wraps around the front of the house, but Theo stops at the first step and looks at me, as if for permission.
“Sure, Dracula,” I say drily, unamused by this strange situation. “You’re welcome to come in. I’ll put away the garlic and crosses.”
A muscle in his jaw flexes. He doesn’t look amused, either. He steps slowly up, one big boot at a time, until he’s on the porch and I have to look up as he walks toward me with thunderclouds churning over his head. He stops a few feet away and stares down at me as Coop looks back and forth between us, visibly worried.
But I can’t pay attention to Coop anymore. Not with the boiling cauldron standing in front of me. The rumbling mountain of magma about to blow. The seething pool of silent emotions clad in a leather jacket and jeans. If I were a cop, I’d arrest this guy on the spot for disturbing the peace. All by himself, he’s a riot threatening to destroy the entire town.
On the left side of his neck, a snarl of scar tissue peeks over the collar of his shirt. His nose was broken once and not fixed well. There’s a ragged white scar above his left eyebrow that disappears into his hairline, and he walks with a barely perceptible limp, favoring his left side. And those dark, dark eyes. God, how they burn.
Whatever the accident was that he was involved in, it’s left its mark on this man, in more ways than one.
Watch the trailer for MIDNIGHT VALENTINE:
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.