War of Hearts by Julia Sykes is releasing on January 30th The PREQUEL is LIVE & FREE! Genre: Dark Romance Menage 
Battle For Love is TOTALLY FREE! Amazon ➜ http://amzn.to/2CQ4m55 iBooks ➜ https://apple.co/2CZv2DG Nook ➜ http://bit.ly/2qQCe08 I don’t deserve her: the sweet, perfect angel with the sweet, perfect life. She doesn’t know anything about my violent past. But if I could just touch her, taste her, then maybe I could pretend her perfect world could be mine, too. I know I should stay away, but when she looks to me for protection, her fate is sealed. Ashlyn will be mine. Note: Battle for Love is the prequel to War of Hearts. PREORDER NOW: Amazon ➙ http://amzn.to/2CF3Bv9 iBooks ➙ http://apple.co/2hJmBQy Barnes & Noble ➙ http://bit.ly/2jfZTjk I met Marco once, before the night he took me. He’d been dark and unquestionably dangerous, and alluring in a way I didn’t allow myself to contemplate. I’d clung to Joseph, looking to my first love to protect me from his intimidating best friend. Then Joseph left me, alone and broken; vulnerable to enemies I hadn’t known threatened me from the shadows. But it wasn’t his enemies I should have feared, since his best friend is the monster who abducted me. And when I wake up, taken and trapped, the man I love is by the monster’s side. Joseph says he can’t let me go. Marco says he won’t let me go. I’m theirs. About the Author: Julia Sykes is the USA Today bestselling author of the Impossible Series. She has always kept dark stories tucked away in her mind, so she was thrilled when she discovered that other people actually want to read them. Her books blend romance, suspense, and BDSM. You can usually find Julia in Starbucks with a venti iced coffee clutched in her hand (two pumps of mocha, liberal half and half). If she's not in Starbucks, you will find her with a glass of prosecco in hand, probably reading Harry Potter. Again. Julia loves connecting with readers! Please feel free to contact her on facebook, through twitter, or email her directly at [email protected]. You can find out more about Julia's current and future projects at julia-sykes.com. Connect with Julia: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorjuliasykes/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/JuliaSykes193 Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-sykes Website: http://www.julia-sykes.com/
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Lauren: Graham is my brother's best friend. He’s always been my protector and my confident because he accepts me the way I am—and not many do. I can’t imagine not having him in my life. Our weekend together was supposed to be a celebration. I graduated from college, Graham got engaged and signed with a pro football team, and my brother landed his dream job. It should have been the best time of our lives. Except that the weekend started with me walking in on Graham's fiancée going down on my brother. I complicated the situation by having sex with Graham after that, but I wanted to comfort him and, damn, when I saw desire in his eyes—for me—I couldn’t say no. I’ve wanted him for so long. Now he doesn’t want to see me. He says he has a darker side he needs to protect me from. Where do we go from here? Do I try to pretend to be his friend again or push him to open up to me and possibly lose him forever? Graham Sleeping with one of my best friends was not exactly a brilliant idea. It made things complicated, and I didn't do anything that threw my life into chaos. The fiancee her brother, Jack, had stolen had been part of my life plan, one more step I was taking to be somebody. Granted, I hadn't been in love with my intended bride, but I didn't really know how to love anybody I survived. I pushed to achieve more. I battled my way to the top of the heap in my pro football career.. I'm a total dick, and I don't want Lauren to see the side of me that would trample over anybody to work my way up in the world. Lauren sees me as a hero, a title I'd never gain with anybody else in my life, so I wanted to keep her sheltered from the hard realities of my life. I wanted her to continue to think I was nice guy when I was really just the opposite. We never should have crossed the line of going from friends to lovers. There's too much Lauren doesn't know about me, and I care enough about her that I don't want her to share my pain and the darkness that never sees daylight inside me. I want her, but she's a woman I can never have. She's too smart, too sweet, and way too good for a guy like me. Unfortunately, pushing her away becomes much more difficult than I'd planned... 
Chapter 1
Lauren
Specific moments tend to embed onto your psyche. They are so traumatic, so painful, they instantly imprint onto your long-term memory. This was destined to be one of those moments. If I survived. If my ability to breathe returned. I clenched the doorknob as my brother scrambled to cover his naked ass with a pillow. He swore and told me to get out. I froze. Holy shit, nothing will ever be the same. Hope, the woman whose mouth was inhaling my brother’s cock, scrambled to retrieve her clothing from the floor. Her face was tomato-red. It should be. She’s engaged to Graham Morgan, my brother’s best friend. Or she was. “My lesson was canceled.” My voice was strangled as were my insides. “You should have said something,” Jack said in a tone he’d used once when we were much younger and I’d caught him downloading porn on my computer. That memory was also embedded. I’m not a prude, but certain societal codes of behavior should be adhered to. One: Not violating my computer or—ew—my room because you’re grounded from the Internet. Two: This! “I’m sorry—” I stopped; I wasn’t sorry. I was numb. I waited for Jack to break out in a smile. It had to be a prank. Graham and Hope’s wedding invitation had arrived two days ago. Mine was secured on the refrigerator at Dad’s place with a heart magnet. We were in Aspen to celebrate the pending nuptials as well as my graduation and Jack’s promotion. “What are you doing, Jack?” He shook his head without answering, and I pitied him. He usually wasn’t an asshole, at least not as assholey as he appeared with a pillow clutched to his genitals as if his nudity was the big issue. Clothing in hand, Hope dashed from the living room, down the hall, and to the master bedroom. I wanted to escape, too, so no judgment on my behalf. “Hope,” Jack bellowed. She didn’t stop. He grabbed his clothing and charged after her. A cold burst of air brought a flurry of snow through the opened door. It instantly melted on the dark wooden floor of the luxury chalet Graham had rented. We had spent weekends in Aspen, although never in a place so nice. During high school, Jack and I had scraped our pennies and rented the best discounted rooms we could afford. Graham had joined us, but we’d refused his money. He’d never talked much about his home life, but we knew it wasn’t good. Eventually, he’d stopped arguing and simply swore he’d get a huge NFL contract and repay us someday. He finally had, and the expense of this chalet probably balanced the account. On autopilot, I closed the door, unzipped my jacket, and hung it in the closet. I peeled off my boots and neatly placed them on the mat. I should have sought the warmth of the blazing fire in the stone hearth, but I still had the visual of my brother and Hope sprawled in front of it. I shook my head. That’s an image that can’t be unseen. The kitchen seemed like a safe destination. I poured a glass of Merlot, and even though I wasn’t a drinker, I finished it off in one long gulp. This can’t be happening. I gripped the counter behind me. Graham had trust issues. Jack and I were the only family he had. Jack, how could you do something this stupid? This cruel? I poured another glass and downed half. My stomach churned in warning. Voices in the living room forced me to abandon my wine and walk toward them. Although I couldn’t make out what they were saying at first, they were obviously arguing. Hope dropped her luggage in the foyer and retrieved her coat from the closet. I stood, silently observing. “I have to get out of here,” she said desperately. When she realized I was there, she said, “I’m sorry. Graham is on his way. I should tell him not to come, but—” She covered her face with her hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” I might have felt sorry for her if I weren’t still trying to erase a certain image from my mind. It was still disgustingly vivid. Jack wrapped his arms around her, an act that angered me. “You’re upset. You can’t drive like this,” Jack pleaded. “I have to. I need to think. This isn’t me. I don’t do things like this.” She looked for confirmation from me, but I looked away. I hadn’t known her long enough to refute or support her claim, nor did I want to be put in that position. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll drive you,” Jack said, as he cupped her face between his hands. My voice finally functioned. “What about Graham?” Jack turned to acknowledge my presence. I expected him to be angry with me, but his face held a pained expression instead. “I’ll drive Hope to the airport then come back. He’s still a few hours out.” “I should be the one to tell him,” Hope said, although she didn’t look or sound convinced. “No, we’ve been friends our whole lives. I’ll tell him,” Jack said firmly. How noble of him. I wanted to slap him. His declaration had the opposite effect on Hope. She melted against him, and I wanted to vomit. There were many words I could have let fly, but none would have helped the situation. I turned to walk away. “Lauren,” Jack said as he approached me. Whispering to keep Hope from hearing, he said, “Don’t say anything to Graham if he beats me here. Tell him we were out when you arrived.” “I won’t lie to him,” I said forcefully, brave from my wine buzz. “Then drive home now.” My mouth gaped. I didn’t know this Jack. “What if Graham gets here before you? Don’t you think he’ll worry if no one is here or answering his calls?” The door opened, and Hope slipped out. I started to tell him what I thought of his plan, but he walked away. He grabbed his coat and swung the door open. “Listen, I fucked up. You don’t need to tell me how badly. Don’t say anything to Graham, okay? I’ll make this right. I swear.” He slammed the door before I had a chance to agree or tell him to go to hell. I grabbed my cell and brought up Graham’s number. He deserved to know what had happened. He deserved a chance to talk it out with Hope if that was what he wanted. I stopped in front of the fire without calling him. I paused, trying to understand my feelings. My anger had dissolved; I felt relieved—almost happy. That was as unnerving as seeing Jack and Hope together. Graham was my honorary brother from another mother, my protector, and even my confidant. Jack’s betrayal would cut Graham deeply, and my heart should be breaking for him. Leaving my phone on the mantel, I went to my room to pack. No matter who told Graham, chances were he would hate all of us, including me, simply for bearing witness. He’d cut members of his family out of his life for that very crime. I tried imagining my life without Graham but couldn’t. Confused and disgusted with myself, I transferred my belongings into my luggage, pausing when I saw my reflection in the bureau mirror. I told myself my feelings were irrelevant. Graham had never looked at me the way he looked at Hope. I wasn’t in her league. On my best day, I was cute. On my worst, I was a slightly overweight, bespectacled nerd with awkward social skills. Many people spend their entire lives trying to stand out. I only wanted to blend in. Strategically, I had learned to keep the majority of my thoughts to myself. Sharing them had never made my life better. At age seven I pinpointed the error in a cartoon character’s attempt at Fermat’s Last Theorem, a problem that had taken mathematicians until 1994 to solve, and sought to discuss it. Not having the mathematical vocabulary to properly express how I would have solved it, I’d asked my teacher, and was instantly transferred to a school for the gifted. I graduated from high school at fourteen, had an undergraduate degree in applied mathematics by seventeen, and my PhD in condensed matter physics by twenty. Whether it was what I wanted or what I was told I should want, I was still unsure. When I requested a year off to find myself, I was directed to therapy. Some good came from that experience. I learned to value my emotions even when they didn’t match the expected. Feelings weren’t wrong, actions were. I also met my best friend, Kelley. She was interning at the practice where I paid for two sessions, debated the basic principles of psychology for two more, then on my clinician’s prodding, went on to formally study it. In retrospect, the suggestion to get my own degree if I thought I knew so much might have been sarcastic, but I wrote a dissertation to support my views and had an additional diploma a year later. Unlike my clinician, Kelley found my questions invigorating. She defined friendship as two people bringing out the best in each other. We were still close even though she had gone off to college in California to finish her studies, leaving us to communicate only by phone for now. Besides Graham, she was the only person who accepted me as I was. On impulse, I retrieved my phone from the mantel and called her. No answer. I checked the time. It was early enough that she might be in class. I left her a voice message—a long, detailed update that included a trip to the kitchen for another glass of Merlot.
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Coming Soon From Author J.S. Scott - Billionaire Unloved
Available February 27th 2018
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Coming Soon from Author Ruth Cardello - Insatiable Bachelor Available February 22nd 2018
A brand new series set in a whole new world. Dalton: Women are a perk of my lifestyle. I work hard. I deserve to play harder. But I didn’t get on the Forbes List of Rising Entrepreneurs by getting lost in the baggage and disruption that comes with dating. I’ve seen dozens of men fail when they fall in love. Pathetic. That's why I chose the Bachelor Tower. It was designed by a genius, my hero: the late, Garry F. Sinclair. He created an all-male haven for ambitious men who want to live like kings and play by their own rules. Casino nights, a fully equipped gym and lap pool, cigar and Scotch bar, and a media room with screens the size of the average movie theater. The list is endless. I easily network with men trying to launch their careers or those at the top who want to stay hungry. The best part: the tower attracts women, beautiful women who hang out in the lobby bar and vie for an invite upstairs. Easy, like fishing in a barrel. Until Sinclair dies and Penny Fuller moves into the apartment next to me because the new owner doesn't share his vision. Everyone agrees Penny can't stay. I don't want to get involved, but she doesn't understand the lengths my fellow building mates will go to to get her out. She's not only irresistibly sexy and painfully optimistic, she's also in real danger. Siding with her would be career suicide. Betraying her was never my intention. 
J.S. "Jan" Scott is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author of steamy romance. She's an avid reader of all types of books and literature. Writing what she loves to read, J.S. Scott writes both contemporary steamy romance stories and paranormal romance. They almost always feature an Alpha Male and have a happily ever after because she just can't seem to write them any other way! She lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with her husband and two very spoiled German Shepherds.
Ruth Cardello hit the New York Times and USA Today Bestsellers Lists for the first time back in 2012. Millions of sales are evidence that her her books are akin to potato chips, addictive from the first one. She has created a multi-series billionaire world with a combination of escapism and realism that has gained her a faithful following of readers.
What Kindle Reviewers write about her: "Wow hot at every page. Heart stopping, fear raging, mind blowing wonderful." "I'm a true fan of Ms. Cardello. I ran on to her first book a few years back and have been hooked ever since. I could go on and on about the story like of this book, but I'm not. All of her books are total page turners, unique, heart wrenching, and I love them all. There isn't two alike in the bunch and I feel like i know the characters personally. I personally read 97 authors books. And I buy every book they put out. This author is in my top 10. Great job and keep them coming." "Love this series. Got me to start reading again. I look forward to the next book. Thank you for giving me the love of reading back." Ruth Cardello was born the youngest of 11 children in a small city in northern Rhode Island. She spent her young adult years moving as far away as she could from her large extended family. She lived in Boston, Paris, Orlando, New York--then came full circle and moved back to New England. She now happily lives one town over from the one she was born in. For her, family trumped the warmer weather and international scene. She was an educator for 20 years, the last 11 as a kindergarten teacher. When her school district began cutting jobs, Ruth turned a serious eye toward her second love- writing and has never been happier. When she's not writing, you can find her chasing her children around her small farm or connecting with her readers online. 
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Title: Watching Mine
Series: Consumed Series
Author: Alex Grayson
Genre: Erotic Romance
My name is Nathan Reines… and I’m a voyeur. Yes, I like to watch people have sex. Witnessing the desire on their faces as they writhe in pleasure makes my blood hotter than the hottest flame. There’s nothing more erotic than seeing their bodies tighten and tremble as they balance on the edge of ecstasy. It makes my dick as hard as fucking steel.
I’ve never been tempted to have a lasting relationship with a woman—why get involved when watching from the sidelines is so fucking hot? But from the first time I watched the woman in the apartment across from mine, I knew she was different. She teases me with her soft touches and gentle caresses. She tempts me with her silent moans and sexy whimpers. She excites me, and makes me want more than I ever have before.
For two years, I refused to give in to my curiosity. That is, until fate took things in her own twisted hands. Now that I know what it’s like to experience Emberleigh in the flesh, there’s no damn way I could ever go back to simply watching.
“Hey, Nathan,” Tegan calls. I look over and find him looking behind me. “Isn’t that—” He stops midsentence, leans forward, causing Willow to lean with him, and squints. A big grin spreads across his face a second later, and his eyes flicker to me. “9B,” he finishes, then leans back in his chair.
My back straightens, and I whip my head around. My eyes tighten into slits as I look through the darkness of the room.
The place is packed with bodies. Some at tables, some standing around talking to others, some out on the dance floor. I look from one person to the next, seeking out the only person of interest to me.
It doesn’t take long before I find her. She’s out on the dance floor, facing me, with some guy standing behind her. His hands are on her hips as she slowly sways to the music. Her blonde hair is swept up high on her head. With her eyes closed, she’s resting her head back against the guy’s chest with her arms lifted and her hands tangled in his hair.
There’s about thirty feet separating us and it’s dark in the room, but I can still see the look of pleasure on her face. My dick, already at attention, grows thicker.
Someone steps in my line of sight, blocking her from view, and a growl leaves my lips. I’m just about to get up and knock the fucker away, when he moves.
Not bothering to tell the others I’m leaving, I get up and grab my beer to move closer. There’s a table at the edge of the dance floor that’s conveniently empty. I turn the chair around so it faces the dance floor and take a seat. There’s now only fifteen feet between us.
She’s wearing a black silky halter-type dress that hugs her tits, then turns loose and flows down the rest of her body. It stops midthigh, but with her arms raised, it barely covers her cunt. I have no doubt if she were to bend over, her ass would show. Her black sandals are high, and even in the dark, they sparkle from some type of glittery shit that’s all over them.
My eyes slowly rake down her body, taking in every inch of her. I’ve seen her completely bare, but never this close. Her naked body is a work of art, but seeing her this close, even clothed, is so much better.
When my gaze finally tracks back up to her face, my damn dick begs to be let loose. Her eyes are now open and she’s looking straight at me. She appears surprised, which makes me wonder if she remembers me from this morning on the street.
The shock is soon replaced with lust. Her tongue darts out to lick along her lips and her gaze turns hooded. My body responds to her blatant show of want. She doesn’t know me, but she still wants me from just a simple look.
She slowly lowers her arms, her nails dragging over the guy’s neck, then runs them down her sides. They skim along the outside of her tits, over his hands that are still on her hips, to the tops of her thighs. Her eyes stay connected with mine the whole time, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. The guy behind her pushes his hips forward, grinding into her ass. She bites her lip and presses herself back against him. When his lips land on the side of her neck, she tilts her head to the side, giving him better access.
My hand tightens around my beer.
Fuck me. This woman is a goddamn temptress and she knows just what to do to tempt my control.
I grab my dick and try in vain to make more room in my jeans. Her eyes widen when I move my hand away. I bring my beer to my lips and take a long pull. With a smirk, I sit back in my seat and enjoy the show.
 
Alex Grayson is the bestselling author of heart pounding, emotionally gripping contemporary romance including the Jaded Series, the Consumed Series, and two standalone novels. Her passion for books was reignited by a gift from her sister-in-law. After spending several years as a devoted reader and blogger, Alex decided to write and independently publish her first novel in 2014 (an endeavor that took a little longer than expected). The rest, as they say, is history.
Originally a southern girl, Alex now lives in Ohio with her husband, two children, two cats and dog. She loves the color blue, homemade lasagna, casually browsing real estate, and interacting with her readers. Visit her website, www.alexgraysonbooks.com, or find her on social media!
     
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The last time I saw Nevada Kane, I was seventeen and he was loading his things into the back of his truck, about to embark on a fourteen-hour drive to the only college that offered him a full ride to play basketball. I told him I’d wait for him. He promised to do the same. But life happened. I broke my promise long before he ever broke his. And not because I wanted to. We never saw each other again … Until ten years later when Nevada unexpectedly returned to our hometown after an abrupt retirement from his professional basketball career. Suddenly he was everywhere, always staring through me with that brooding gaze, never returning my smiles or “hellos.” Over the years, I’d heard that he’d changed. And that despite his multi-million dollar contracts and rampant success, life hadn’t been so kind to him. He was a widower. And a single father. And rumor had it, he’d spent his last ten years trying to forget me, refusing to so much as breathe my name … hating me. But just like a rebound, he’s back. And I have to believe everything happens for a reason. 
Prologue
Yardley Devereaux {Ten Years Ago} He sent my letter back. I re-read my words, imagining the way they must have made him feel. Nevada, I’m writing because you haven’t been taking my calls or answering my texts. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, so I thought you should hear it straight from me… I’ve broken my promise. But you should know that I never wanted to hurt you, none of this was planned, and I still love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in this world. This is something I had to do. And I think if you’ll let me, I can explain in a way that makes sense and doesn’t completely obliterate the beauty of what we had. Please don’t hate me, Nevada. Please let me explain. Please answer your phone. I love you. So much. Your dove, Yardley The paper is torn at the top, as if he was about to rip it to shreds but changed his mind, and on the back of my letter, in bold, black marker, is a message of his own. NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN. Chapter One Yardley Devereaux, age 16 I don't belong here. I realize being the new kid makes people give you a second look, but I don't think it should give them permission to stare at you like you have a second head growing out of your nose. Or a monstrous zit on your chin. Or a period stain on your pants. At this point it’s all the same. Not to mention, I don't think anyone can prepare you for what it feels like to eat lunch alone, like some social reject. The smell of burnt tater tots makes my stomach churn, and the milk on my tray expires today. I'm pretty sure the “chicken patty on a bun” they gave me is nothing more than pink slime baked to a rock-hard consistency. I’m unwilling to risk chipping a tooth, so I refuse to try it. Checking my watch for the millionth time, I calculate approximately 3 1/2 hours left until I can go home and tell my parents what an amazing first day I had. That’s what they want to hear anyway. Dad moved us here from California with the promise that we were going to be richer than sin, whatever that means. But if Missouri is such a gold mine then why doesn't the rest of the world move here? So far, Lambs Grove looks like the kind of place you'd see in some independent film about a mother trying to solve her son's murder with the help of a crooked police department, starring Jake Gyllenhaal, JK Simmons, and Frances McDormand. Okay, I'm probably being dramatic. But this place is pretty lame. I miss the ocean. I miss the constant sunshine and the steady stream of seventy-five degree days. I miss the swaying palm trees. I miss my friends. Forcing your kid to move away from the town they’ve grown up in their entire life—in the middle of their sophomore—year is cruel. I don't care how rich dad says we’re going to get, I'd have rather stayed in Del Mar, driven a rusting Honda, and paid my own way through a technical college if it had meant we didn't have to move. And can we talk about my name for a second? Yardley. Everyone here has normal names. Alyssa. Monica. Taylor. Heather. Courtney. If I have to spell my name for someone one more time I’m going to scream. My mom wanted my name to be special and different because apparently she thinks I'm special and different, but naming your daughter Yardley doesn’t make her special. It just makes it so she’ll never find her name on a souvenir license plate. I’d go by my middle name if it weren’t equally as bad, but choosing between Yardley and Dove is akin to picking your own poison. Yardley Dove Devereaux. My parents are cruel. I rest my case. I pop a cold tater tot into my mouth and force myself to chew. I'll be damned if I'm that girl sitting in third block with a stomach growling so loud it drowns out the teacher. I don't need more people staring. Pulling my notebook from my messenger bag, I pretend to focus on homework despite the fact that it's the first day of spring semester and none of my teachers have assigned anything yet, but it’s better than sitting here staring at the block walls of the cafeteria like some loser. Pressing my pen into the paper, I begin to write: Monday, January 7, 2008 This day sucks. The school sucks. This town sucks. These people suck. After a minute, I toss my pen aside and exhale. “What about me? Do I suck?” A pastel peach lunch tray plops down beside me followed by a raven-haired boy with eyes like honey and a heartbreaker’s smile. My heart flutters in my chest. He's gorgeous. And I have no idea why he's sitting next to me. “Nevada.” “No. California. I’m from Del Mar,” I say, clearing my throat and sitting up straight. The boy laughs through his perfectly straight nose. I can't take my eyes off his dimpled smirk. He can’t take his eyes off me. “My name,” he says. “It's Nevada. Like the state. And you are?” “New,” I say. He laughs at me again, eyes rolling. “Obviously. What’s your name?” My cheeks warm. Apparently, I can’t human today. “Yardley.” “Yardley from California.” He says my name like he’s trying to memorize it as he studies me. I squirm, wanting to know what he’s thinking and why he’s gazing at me like I’m some kind of magnificent creature and not some circus sideshow new girl freak. “What brings you here?” He pops one of my tator tots between his full lips, grinning while he chews. Nevada doesn't look like the boys where I’m from. He doesn't sound like them either. He isn't sun kissed with windswept surfer hair. His features are darker, more mysterious. One look at this tall drink of water and I know he’s wise beyond his years. Mischievous and charismatic but also personable. He’s … everything. And he’s everything I never expected to come across in a town like this. A group of girls at the table behind us gape and gawk, whispering and nudging each other. It occurs to me then that this might be a set-up, that this beautiful boy might be talking to this awkward new girl as a dare. “Ignore them,” he says when he follows my gaze toward the plastic cheerleader squad sitting a few feet away. “They’re just jealous.” I lift a brow. “Of what?” He smirks, laughing at me like I’m supposed to ‘get it.’ “What?” I ask. If this is a joke, I want to be in on it. I refuse to add butt-of-the-joke to the list of reasons why this day can go to hell. “They’re jealous because they think I’m about to ask you out,” he says, licking his lips. Nevada hasn’t taken his eyes off me since the moment he sat down. “Should I go inform them that they have absolutely no reason to shoot daggers our way?” His expression fades. “Why would you say that?” “Because …” I laugh. “You’re not about to ask me out.” “I’m not?” I peel my gaze off of him and glance down at my untouched lunch. “Why are you doing this?” “Why am I doing what? Talking to you? Trying to get the courage to ask you on a date?” I glance up, studying his golden gaze and trying to determine if he’s being completely serious right now. “You’ve never seen me before in your life and then you just … plop down next to me and ask me on a date?” I shake my head before rising. If I have to dump my tray and hide in the bathroom until the bell rings, then so be it. “Where are you going?” My lips part. “I … I don’t know. I …” Nevada reaches for me, wrapping his hand around my wrist in a silent plea for me to stay. “Do you have a boyfriend back in California? Is that what this is about?” “What? No.” This guy is relentless. “Then go on a date with me,” he says, rising. “Friday.” “Why?” His expression fades. “Why?” The bell rings. Thank God. “I was new once. So I get it,” he says, fighting another dimpled smirk. God, I could never get tired of looking at a face like his. “And, uh … I think you’re, like, really fucking hot.” Biting my lower lip and trying my damnedest to keep a straight face, I decide I won’t be won over that easily. It takes a lot more than a sexy smile, some kind words, and a curious glint in his sunset eyes. If he truly wants me … if this isn’t a joke and he honestly thinks I’m “really fucking hot,” he’s going to have to prove it. “Bye, Nevada,” I say, gathering my things and disappearing into a crowd of students veering toward two giant trash cans. I don’t wait for him to respond and I don’t turn around, but I feel him watching me—if that’s even possible. There’s this electric energy pulsing through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I’m not sure if it’s excitement or anticipation or the promise of hope … but I can’t deny that it’s real and it’s there. Making my way to the second floor of Lambs Grove High, I find my English Lit classroom and settle into a seat in the back. For the tiniest sliver of a second, I imagine the two of us together. We’re laughing and happy and so in love that it physically hurts—the kind of thing I’ve never had with anyone else. The tardy bell rings and a few more students shuffle in. My teacher takes roll call before beginning his lecture, but I don’t hear any of it. I can’t stop thinking about that beautiful boy. 
Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi. And if you'd like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here ---> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j
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Her Debtby Rebel Rose Lock and Key Series #1 Publication Date: March 8, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Purchase: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play My entire world changed the second that I saw her in my casino. She’s a professional gambler. And a cheat. A damn good one… but not good enough. And now she owes a debt to me. A debt that only her body can repay. I’m restless with lust and need and desire for this thing of beauty not in my possession. My mind and cock are obsessed with her. When I spank her for the first time, I know that I’m right. She is the one. The woman that I’m going to break. The woman that I’m going to train for only my particular tastes. I’m going to shatter her into a million pieces and then rebuild her into everything that I want and need and desire in… My next submissive.About Rebel RoseRebel Rose is a decadently dark romance author living in the beautiful city of New Orleans. She prefers anti-heroes over Prince Charmings and often uses her own sexual experiences in her novels. She can typically be found somewhere in the French Quarter enjoying a cup of coffee while people watching.Website | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads
Midnight Blue, an all-new sexy standalone from LJ Shen is coming January 21st!
Midnight Blue Author: LJ Shen Release Date: January 21st Designer: Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs. Model: Nolan Zarlin It should have been easy. I needed the money. He needed a babysitter to keep him from snorting himself to death. I was cherry-picked especially for him. Responsible. Optimistic. Warm. Innocent. The worst part is that I should have known better. Alex Winslow. British rock star. Serial heartbreaker. Casanova with whiskey eyes. “Don’t get near the devil in a leather jacket. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.” Sounds familiar? That’s because it was a headline in a tabloid the second time he got arrested. Guess what? I didn’t listen. I signed the contract. World tour. Three months. Four Continents. One hundred shows. My name is Indigo Bellamy, and I sold my soul to a tattooed god. Problem was, my soul wasn’t enough for Alex Winslow. He ended up taking my body, too. Then he took my heart. Then he took my all. Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2lIShL2About LJ Shen: L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat. Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets peoples’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards. She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
Connect with LJ Shen: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorljshen/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/lj_shen Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authorljshen/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorljshen/ Stay up to date with LJ Shen by signing up for her mailing list: Today, we have the series reveal of Carrie Quest’s new series, SNOW-CROSSED LOVERS. Check out all three gorgeous covers and about the books! |
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My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards. We met at a wedding—him sitting on the groom’s side, me sitting on the bride’s. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction. I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me. We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number. I thought about him often, but after my last relationship, I’d sworn off of charming, cocky, gorgeous-as-sin men. A year later, Hunter and I met again at the birth of our friends’ baby. Our attraction hadn't dulled one bit. After a whirlwind trip, he demanded a real phone number this time. So I left him with my mother’s—she could scare away any man with her talks of babies and marriage—and flew back home. I’d thought it was funny, until the following week when he rang the bell at Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner. The crazy, gorgeous man had won over my mother and taken an eight-week assignment in my city. He proposed we spend that time screwing each other out of our systems. Eight weeks of mind-blowing sex with no strings attached? What did I have to lose? Nothing, I thought. It’s just sex, not love. But you know what they say about the best laid plans… 
“You’re not going anywhere before you do two things.” “Two things?” “Leave your number and kiss me goodbye.” “I…I…you haven’t brushed your teeth.” Hunter chuckled. It felt like he could see through all of my bullshit. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed his phone and held it out to me before getting up. “Toothpaste in the bathroom still?” “The little one the hotel sets out.” “I’ll brush. You type.” While he was in the bathroom, I mulled over not typing anything into his phone. There was no way I was keeping in touch with a man living three-thousand miles away. A guy like him was the last thing I needed. But then I thought better of just telling him I’d put my number in. He seemed to have figured me out pretty quick. So instead, I typed my name and number, only I changed the last two digits. And it was a good thing I did, because when Hunter returned from his bathroom trip, the first thing he did was check that I’d entered something. Luckily, he didn’t attempt to call me. Satisfied, he tossed his phone on the bed and nodded. “Thank you. Now kiss me.” I could see he wasn’t going to let me leave without this. So, sacrificing to make my plane, I pushed up on my toes and delivered a quick peck to his lips. Mmm.... Nice and soft. (And minty fresh.) “Well…it was nice to meet you.” I turned to dart out the door, but Hunter grabbed my wrist yet again. “I said kiss me.” “I did!” “Kiss me the way you kissed me last night.” Before I could even attempt to let that sink in, Hunter yanked me against him. One of his large hands cupped the back of my neck, and he squeezed firmly to direct my head where he wanted it. Then, his lips crashed down on mine. The shock of feeling his mouth against mine quickly dissipated as he licked my lips, encouraging me to open for him. His tongue dipped inside, and he groaned as he tilted my head and deepened the kiss. The vibration of the sound traveled between us and sent a hum through my body. Soft and gentle went out the window after that. He grabbed a fistful of my ass, and I lifted my body up onto his, wrapping my legs around his waist. As he backed us to the wall, a sense of familiarity overcame me. I couldn’t remember the specifics of our previous kiss, but I now knew deep inside what it had felt like. My cell dropped from my hand so my fingers could tangle in his hair. Yanking on the soft strands, I couldn’t get enough. A moan from deep inside my chest moved through our connected mouths. Hunter pushed harder, his thick erection pressing into the center of my open legs. He rocked as he kissed me, causing a friction through two layers of clothing that was leading me to a place I didn’t think it was possible to go fully dressed. It felt like he wanted to swallow me whole, and in that moment, I would have let him. My breasts were crushed to his chest, and a heartbeat raged out of control—only I wasn’t sure if it was my own or his. Jesus, where does a man learn to kiss like this? I was breathless and stunned when our kiss broke. Hunter sucked on my bottom lip, tugging it before releasing my mouth. His voice was strained. “Change your flight. We’re not done here.” I swallowed, trying to gain some composure. “I can’t.” My voice was barely a whisper. It was all I could muster. “Can’t or don’t want to?” 
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over eighty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in nineteen languages. She lives in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six. 
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