Today we have the gorgeous cover reveal for St. Helena Santa by Kate Kisset! Check it out and grab your copy today!
Title: St. Helena Santa
Author: Kate Kisset
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Day: Nov 15th
About St. Helena Santa:
He’s a former tight end with a bad reputation.
She’s a gorgeous computer geek who doesn’t date.
Will these opposites attract, or drive each other into the end zone?
Lilly Martelli’s first vacation in over a year has her on a mission to support her two busybody relatives in St. Helena. Helping the grannies bake stinky fruitcakes for their Christmas bake sale is bad enough, but being forced to co-host the fund-raiser with Mr.-Fun-in-the-pants Brett Benning might be too hot to handle.
Brett had hoped retiring from football, becoming a firefighter, and moving back to Napa Valley would be enough to repair his reputation. But he’s sick to death of the tiny town gossip, and tired of dating in the shallow end of the pool. He’s looking to score The One.
Who knew he’d find her helping with the annual bake sale? His smart and sexy co-chair has him eating out of her hands and asking for seconds of her grandmother’s nasty fruitcake. For the first time in his life, Brett might be in over his head.
Will the magic of Christmas give them the courage to admit they’ve made the catch of their lives, or will their holiday season end without a win?
St. Helena Santa is a contemporary romance from Kate Kisset’s Family Ties series. If you enjoy small town romance, romantic comedies, and sexy love stories with a full cast of grannies in orthopedics, then you’ll love St. Helena Santa.
“Brett is Mr. July, darling,” her nonna offered.
Lilly turned from the coffee maker to find her nonna’s grin-covered face.
“The St. Helena Hotties Fireman’s Calendar,” Cha-Cha clarified, as if Lilly should know, while she unloaded five fruitcakes from the bottom oven. She placed them on a cooling rack on the counter, then removed her jingle-bell oven mitts like a doctor after surgery.
Looking a little sneaky and very guilty, she tiptoed closer to Lilly. “All the firefighters are holding the most adorable little puppies,” she whispered. “And the proceeds go to St. Paws Rescue. Let me show it to you.”
“Oh, no, no, no…”
“Get comfortable,” Cha-Cha commanded, giggling. “You won’t believe your eyes.”
“Nonna, please. It’s okay. I don’t need to see Mr. July, or any other mister without his clothes on. Honestly, I don’t—” She’d do it in private later.
Cha-Cha tucked a stray curl back into her bun and strutted to the counter near the oven. “Sit, sit, sit…” She waved at her and pointed to the island, her red-beaded sleeves flapping. Lilly reluctantly slid onto her stool again. “Those hotties are in here somewhere…” Cha-Cha shuffled through a drawer.
ChiChi looked up from her gooey project long enough to give Lilly a sly smile.
“Viola!” Cha-Cha pulled a glossy package from the drawer. “I’ve been saving this for Mr. January. But at my age I might not be around, so why wait?”
“Please don’t say that, Nonna.”
“What God wants…” ChiChi volunteered. And at the mention of the lord above, the sisters simultaneously blessed themselves. “Name of the Father, the Son…”
Lilly took a deep breath. She couldn’t imagine the planet without her nonna. Life was difficult enough without Grandpa. Although her nonna kept her Ryo maiden name, like her sisters had, Cha-Cha Ryo remained head over heels in love with Edwardo Antonio Martelli until the day he died. He was the love of her life. So, as much as Lilly had zero desire to look at Brett Benning in the buff--with the grannies--she was tickled to see her grandmother so happy.
Cha-Cha tore the wrapping off the calendar and smirked, letting her know her dead-on intuition had picked up Lilly’s interest in Brett. Presenting the calendar like a fragile piece of china, Cha-Cha practically danced to her. “Wipe your hands. We don’t want to get anything on the pictures. Especially the good parts,” she chuckled.
“You didn’t have to unwrap it,” Lilly said, reluctantly wiping her hands on a bright red dish towel. “You could’ve left Mr. January in the drawer.”
Cha-Cha sidled next to her. “Okay.” She beamed, excitedly flipping the pages. Bare chests, rippling muscles, and gorgeous smiles flashed by at Mach one.
Lilly grinned. “On second thought, slow down.”
“Here he is…” Cha-Cha read the caption. “St. Helena’s Brett Benning, hotter than the fourth of July.” She pointed to his photo. “Now, tell me that’s not a fun-raiser!”
Lilly gulped, praying there wasn’t anything fun raised below his belt. Why couldn’t her grandmother act like a normal granny, for crying out loud?
Her nonna nudged her and jiggled the calendar. Lilly rolled her eyes and then cautiously glanced down.
Oh, God. There was that smile…and, sweet baby Jesus. She scanned his beautiful, strong shoulders and down past the adorable chocolate Labrador puppy in Brett’s droolworthy arms, down to his six pack abs, and down. Down to the muscles that formed a v below, leading down, down…
“Close it. I don’t want to see any more.” Thank God Brett kept his pants on. She’d need to take another peek later though, just to be sure.
About Kate Kisset:
Former San Francisco disc jockey Kate Kisset is the author of the highly acclaimed Wine Country Romance Series set in the San Francisco Bay Area. Fans refer to her contemporary romances as refreshing, with deep and complex characters, and plots that serve up humor without holding back on heart.
Kate is currently writing two new series that will launch in 2018.
Although Kate wrote her first story in the third grade, she became serious about writing romance after she lost her mother to pancreatic cancer. The tragedy left her searching for, and eventually writing happily-ever-afters to lift her spirits.Kate divides her time between Northern and Southern California. When she's not writing, Kate's favorite job is being "The Mommy." She enjoys eating chocolate, drinking wine, listening to music, and walking her loyal companion, Luciana Parmigiana her rescue-dog-editor.
Title: Personal Foul
Author: Hayley Faiman
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 4, 2017
Cover Design: Cassy Roop @ Pink Ink Designs
a rule violation involving illegal contact.
Violated. That’s how Trent makes me feel. But I can’t leave him. I owe him too much.
Illegal contact. That’s what it is the first time Cole touches me. Except, it doesn’t feel wrong.
I shouldn’t break the rules--and yet, I’m afraid that if I don’t, the personal foul will be called against me.
My future. My heart. My life is at stake. I can’t betray myself. I won’t.
**Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault
I was born and raised in California. My husband and I met when I was just 16. We were married a few years later, moving to Oregon while he was in the US Coast Guard.
Texas is now where we call home, where our boots rest, and where we're raising our two little boys and a chocolate lab named Optimus Prime.
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Title: It Must've Been the Mistletoe
Author: L.P. Dover
Genre: Contemporary/Holiday Romance
Cover Design: Regina Wamba at Mae I Design
Release Date: December 18, 2017
Finding your soul mate is a dream Adeline Hamilton thought was just that â¦ a dream. After several failed relationships, she realizes sheâs not capable of falling in love. The only passion sheâs ever had is teaching U.S. History at the local high school.
A week before Christmas, Adeline is all set for her best friendâs wedding, even though she dreads having to go to it alone. But when sheâs given a Christmas wish that could change her future forever, sheâs whisked away to the past, to a completely different place and time. Itâs also when she meets him, William Blair, the man who steals her heart.
As their relationship grows, Adeline realizes that true love does exist. What she doesnât know is that her wish canât last forever, that soon sheâll have to leave the past behind. Will Adeline and William find their way back to each other? Or will their love have to stay where it all began . . . in 1865? With mistletoe and Christmas magic, anythingâs possible.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author L. P. Dover is a southern belle living in North Carolina with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she began her literary journey she worked in periodontics, enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries.
She loves to write, but she also loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes and white water rafting, and has a passion for singing. Her two youngest fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime, usually Christmas carols.
Dover has written countless novels, including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, the Gloves Off series, the Armed & Dangerous series, the Royal Shifters series, the Society X series, the Circle of Justice series, and her standalone novel Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense, but if she got to choose a setting in which to live, it would be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.
More Than Friendsby Jillian Quinn Publication Date: December 6, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Sports
I wasn’t supposed to fall for my best friend…. Kat was the one girl who I could talk to without thinking of sex. The one person I could trust. She was even my teammates’ sister. Until one night of drunken passion changed everything. One mistake created a divide that lasted for years after the NHL drafted me. She kept a secret from me that could bring us back together. Her secret is also what had torn us apart. I just didn’t know it. Until now. More than Friends is a second chance friends to lovers standalone romance.
About Jillian QuinnJillian Quinn is an international bestselling romance author who likes her females just as alpha as their swoon-worthy male counterparts. Jillian is a writer and sports fanatic, combining her passion for both hobbies into her books. As a lover of all things bookish, Jillian has a serious book-hoarding problem and runs a blog in her free time. When she’s not reading, writing, or blogging, she’s obsessively fangirling over hockey players and can be found wherever she can catch the next hockey game.
Two-Man Advantage by Toni Aleo releases on November 14th! Keep reading for an excerpt! Genre: M/M Sports Romance
Amazon → http://amzn.to/2xJqz1b
Nook → http://bit.ly/2hMdL46
iBooks → http://apple.co/2ytnJBw
Kobo → http://bit.ly/2ypjQeM
EXCERPT:Stretching in the bed, Matty extended the motion from his fingertips to his toes. It was a great stretch, but shit, what time was it? With his eyes still shut, he reached for his phone on the nightstand, bringing it to his face, blinking to see it was close to six a.m. Why in the hell was he awake? This was a vacation, he needed to fucking sleep, especially with how much all these people talked. Wells’s family was nice, he liked them just fine, but damn, they talked all the time. And picked on each other! He wasn’t a stranger to razzing, but for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t sure there was a moment someone wasn’t picking on someone else. It was very entertaining. But very new. Or maybe that was just his fucked-up upbringing. Because in the Haverbrooke household, no one really joked or laughed for no reason when he was growing up. Or, hell, even now. Everyone was in their own rooms, doing their own thing. The only time he saw his mother and father was either at dinner or at a hockey game. They never once put him on the bus or made him breakfast; the nanny did that. That didn’t mean he didn’t love his parents. He did, very much, but they were always busy. So were his older brothers, and all he had was Avery. Until he ruined that too. When he realized the bed was empty, he looked around the room to see that, like his teenage years, he was very alone. Where was Wells? Pushing off the blankets, he got out of bed, naked. The windows were open, letting in the salty air. Anyone could look in, but he wasn’t worried about that. When he looked out at the beach, he saw Wells standing in the water, his arms above his head, the muscles in his back taut and undeniably sexy. Reaching for a pair of running shorts, Matty watched Wells while he put them on before going out the front door, shutting it behind him. “Hey.” Wells looked over his shoulder, his eyes softening at the sight of Matty. “Hey yourself, lazy ass.” Matty sputtered with laughter as he walked to the shore, the water running up on his feet. “Shit, that’s cold!” Wells rolled his eyes. “You’re such a baby. It’s great. Especially after running for an hour.” As Wells turned, coming toward him, a grin moved across Matty’s face. Running did Wells’s body so fucking good. His torso was cut and defined, his pecs thick and mouthwatering, but those shoulders? Yeah, they had Matty’s cock hard within seconds. “Fuck, you’re hot.” Wells smirked. “I know.” Rolling his eyes as Wells reached for him, pulling his body against him, Matty let out a little sound of distress. “Dude, it’s cold!” “No, it’s not. Come here, I’ll keep you warm.” About the Author:
My name is Toni Aleo and I’m a total dork.Connect with Toni! Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tonialeo1 Twitter: https://twitter.com/ToniAleo1 Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/toni_aleo/ Intagram: https://instagram.com/tonialeo1/ Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2yGqqR6
I am a wife, mother of two and a bulldog, and also a hopeless romantic.
I am the biggest Shea Weber fan ever, and can be found during hockey season with my nose pressed against the Bridgestone Arena’s glass, watching my Nashville Predators play!
When my nose isn’t pressed against the glass, I enjoy going to my husband and son’s hockey games, my daughter’s dance competition, hanging with my best friends, taking pictures, scrapbooking, and reading the latest romance novel.
I have a slight Disney and Harry Potter obsession, I love things that sparkle, I love the color pink, I might have been a Disney Princess in a past life… probably Belle.
… and did I mention I love hockey?
We are so thrilled to bring you the cover from New York Times bestseller Kendall Ryan.
xo, Zach is a steamy new forbidden romance full of heat, heart & humor releasing January 23, 2018!
The first time we met was at a party.
Your ex arrived to show off the person he'd left you for last month, and you asked me to pretend to be your date.
I was more than happy to help. You were attractive, smart and witty--and that kiss we shared? It left me wanting you for days.
The second time we met was in my office on campus where we were both surprised to discover you were the new master’s degree student in poetry that I would be working with. You promised to be professional. I did no such thing.
The late nights and intense study sessions spent alongside you majorly throw me off my game. I want you, and I fight with myself daily over this fact.
I know I'm crass, that my sexual innuendos and dirty mouth annoy you, but I live for those two bright spots of color in your cheeks. If that's the only reaction I can get out of you, I'll gladly take it.
You hate Mondays so every Monday I slip an anonymous poem into your bag and your smile gets me through the week.
I think I'm falling for you, and I know it's wrong. I know that I'm only supposed to be your adviser and nothing more, but here's the thing. I think you're falling for me too.
xo, ZachADD TO GOODREADS
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Audible: Live release, narrated by Andi Arndt & Sebastian York!A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 1.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. She's a traditionally published author with Simon & Schuster and Harper Collins UK, as well as an independently published author. Since she first began self-publishing in 2012, she's appeared at #1 on Barnes & Noble and iBooks charts around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine. Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | PINTREST | AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE | GOODREADS | BOOKBUB | NEWSLETTER
He Loves Me...KNOT by RC Boldt is coming soon on NOVEMBER 14th! Keep reading for an EXCERPT!
→ Add it to your GR TBR: https://goo.gl/eAco2g → Get notified when the Amazon preorder is LIVE: http://www.subscribepage.com/o9t9w8
Sometimes love needs a second chance… I never looked back after skipping out on my own wedding, even if it did leave me estranged from most of my family. Eight years later, I have the life I’ve always wanted. As an advertising account executive, my world is damn near perfect. Until I come face-to-face with my past. With the man I once loved. The man who holds my future in his hands. The man who’s hell-bent on getting even with me for leaving him at the altar. Even with all the unfinished business between us, I still love Knox Montgomery. The only problem? He loves me…KNOT.
“BLESS HER HEART.”
This—the quintessential Southern phrase “bless her heart”—is the ultimate kiss of death.
The irony isn’t lost on me since I just avoided my own kiss of death, figuratively speaking. Instead of walking down the aisle, I’m trudging along the Pensacola Beach boardwalk in my wedding dress.
With tear-stained cheeks.
Two elderly women peer at me, blatant curiosity etched across their features, and one turns to the other to hiss, “I wonder if the groom left her.”
“Would you blame him?” the other woman responds, disdain dripping from her tone. “She’s got a”—she utters the next words much like they’re absolutely scandalous—“nose piercing.”
The dark glare I direct at them is concealed by my sunglasses, so with a dismissive huff, I continue plodding along, swiping a hand across my tear-streaked cheeks. Judging by the black smudges on my fingers, my waterproof mascara clearly lied.
Damn jackass mascara.
Damn jackass groom. I’m starting to see a trend here…
The longer I walk, the more stares I get. One little girl in a tutu bathing suit points to the top of my head and squeals with joy, “Look! A princess!”
Damn jackass tiara and veil my mother insisted I wear.
I march over to a large trash bin and—without any finesse whatsoever—begin tugging the pins holding this awful tiara-veil combo in place. As I’m attempting to remove it, agitation takes over due to my sad lack of progress. I bunch the veil in my fists and give it a firm tug from my elaborate up-do. Bobby pins shoot and ping in various directions, and I distractedly pray no one gets too close and loses an eye. Shoving the obscene length of fabric in the trash, I feel a bit lighter.
The June sun beats down on me as I stand on the stamped cement of the boardwalk, the heat radiating through the soles of my favorite flip-flops. My eyes flutter closed as I inhale a deep breath of the salty Gulf of Mexico air.
God, I love this beach. It’s always been one of my favorites, especially since it takes just under an hour to drive here from Mobile. The water is a gorgeous shade of blue-green, and the sand is perfectly white and free of pesky shells. Any other time, I’d be kicking off my flip-flops and running toward the surf. Now, though, I have different priorities: a stiff drink. Or ten.
The challenge is finding a place where I might not draw attention—er, as much attention. I slowly survey the nearby choices of bars and restaurants lined up along the boardwalk; I scan and dismiss them one by one.
Wait a minute.
One particular sign snags my eye. It has an outline of two men standing back to back, their forms filled with a swirl of rainbows and the name Be-Bob’s written in script-like font beneath it.
A gay bar.
With my key ring clipped to my small wristlet, I stalk over to the bar, doing my best to ignore the startled looks and gawking from other beachgoers. Tugging open the heavy door, I step over the threshold and into the brisk air conditioning.
Into a place where I might find slightly more acceptance.
I slide my sunglasses to rest atop my head and take a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. There are only about eight people scattered about, chatting over drinks. When I don’t earn more than a brief glance before they return to their own conversations, I breathe my first sigh of relief. Most of the patrons are likely indulging in the great weather and enjoying a Saturday at the beach, not looking for refuge and hiding out like I am.
I scan the framed photos that adorn the walls featuring local drag queens and scantily clad male models before striding over to the bar. I hoist myself up onto a worn leather bar stool, and catch the eye of the only bartender behind the counter. He appears to be taking inventory of the liquor, if his clipboard is anything to go by.
When he turns around and gets the full visual of me, his expression is priceless, his eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline. I’d laugh if I had it in me, but I’m emotionally spent.
As he regards what’s visible to him from the top of the bar on up to my hair, his light brown eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tip up slightly. Without batting an eye, he reaches below the counter and produces a wet wipe. I gratefully accept it and he rests his forearms upon the lacquered surface, regarding me with interest as I rid my cheeks of the dark mascara streaks.
The bartender waits until I’m finished and then accepts the wipe from me before tossing it into the trash.
“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever served a runaway bride before.” My makeup-fail savior appears to gauge me, as if expecting me to burst into a river of tears.
Funny enough, the drive here has expended me of those and I’m firmly entrenched in the anger stage of my fiancé’s betrayal.
I prop an elbow on the bar, rest my chin on my palm, and offer what I know is the weakest excuse for a smile. “There’s a first time for everything, right?”
He doesn’t immediately answer, eyeing me curiously until his lips stretch into an easy smile. His eyes do that little crinkly thing at the corners and he has what I call “kind eyes.”
Then again, I remind myself, what the hell do I know?
I’m clearly not the best judge of people. That much has become all too evident.
The bartender reaches out a hand. “Casey.”
I grasp his hand, noting his impressive manicure. This guy’s cuticles are better than mine and I love the shade of metallic gray polish on his nails. “Nice to meet you, Casey. I’m Emma Jane.”
He reaches beneath the bar and I hear a clinking as he scoops ice, before he brings a cup into view. Then he works his magic, and pours in a bit of this and that from one bottle to the next. Finally, with flourish—and a maraschino cherry tossed in—he slides the plastic cup across the smooth surface.
“It’s my special, secret mix. I call it”—he leans in toward me and lowers his voice, his eyes dancing with mischief—“the Panty Dropper.”
One of my brows arches as I stare back at him with dismayed skepticism. “I hardly think I’m a prime panty-dropping candidate right now.”
Casey lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, his eyes flickering over my shoulder before returning to me. His smile grows wider. “You never can tell.”
With a tiny laugh, I shake my head and wrap my lips around the straw to take a sip of the concoction he’s made me. Just as I swallow the sweet drink, I both feel and smell a person sidle up next to me at the bar.
Hell. The reason I came here was because I thought for sure my chances of getting hit on would be slim to none. But, as I glance at him from the corner of my eye, I observe strong, muscled forearms, tanned and sprinkled with dark hair. The scent of him is appealing and masculine, a cologne that doesn’t overpower. Just the sight of those arms alone, however, makes me incredibly wary to see the rest of him.
Casey doesn’t address the newcomer, his focus still on me. “I’m all ears, Emma Jane. Been told I’m a great listener.”
Good Lord. Where do I even start?
Before I can answer, the man speaks up, his deep voice booming. “Are you cheating on me, Case?” He makes what sounds like a gasp of exaggerated indignation. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”
I glance up to see Casey’s expression full of mirth, and he rolls his eyes. “You know better. I’m still waiting on you to switch over.”
A husky laugh greets my ears and it sounds far too male—far too appealing—which is why I refuse to turn and look at the man beside me.
“I might switch if you’d agree to root for my team.”
“Not gonna happen,” Casey scoffs before his gaze meets mine. “Isn’t that drink exactly what the doctor ordered?”
I muster up a smile because he seems like a sweet guy. “It is.” With a start, I realize I haven’t given him my card to pay or at least start a tab. I reach for my wristlet. “What do I owe you?”
He waves me off. “Honey, that one’s on me as long as you promise to dish before we get slammed in a few hours.”
A loud exhale spills past my lips. “It’s a pathetic story, really.”
“Let me guess.” Mr. Forearms’s husky voice is a deep timbre, amusement threaded in his tone. “You caught him with your maid of honor.”
I let out a harsh laugh and fiddle with my straw, using it to move around the ice cubes in my drink. “Nope.” If only it were that simple, I muse internally.
“Caught him with his best man?”
This time, his suggestion drags a lighter sounding laugh from me. “Not even.”
“Well, you know I can’t leave here without hearing the story. I’m intrigued.”
This guy is something else, that’s for sure. His voice is the epitome of sexy, and yet, even with all that’s transpired, I have zero interest.
Finally, I drag my attention from my drink and my eyes travel up those muscled forearms, over the bulging biceps stretching the short sleeves of a dark-blue polo shirt and up to the face that—
My breath catches in my throat as recognition floods me, my eyes widening as I take in the man beside me.
Becket Jones, the quarterback for the NFL team in Jacksonville, Florida. He’s a two-time Heisman Trophy winner from the University of Florida and had been the second overall draft pick by the Jacksonville Jaguars. Adding to that impressive resumé, he’s been recently voted MVP and is also a Lombardi Trophy recipient. His face is in commercials and on billboards everywhere. Living in Mobile, Alabama, and in a state without a pro football team, most of us either gravitate toward the Atlanta Falcons, the New Orleans Saints, or the Jacksonville Jaguars.
I don’t follow NFL as closely as college football, but I’d have to live under a rock to not recognize Becket and his pretty-boy face. Even beneath the brim of the ball cap, which curls under at the edges and draws shadows over his eyes, I’d recognize that wide charming smile of his anywhere. He’s slouching against the bar but I know he pushes well over six feet.
His features cloud as he observes my response, his large hand reaching up to tug his cap lower. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to sell some seedy story about seeing me in a gay bar to a stupid gossip rag.”
“Of course not. I’m just…” I falter for a moment, “surprised.”
His chin lifts, gesturing to a couple of guys standing nearby a jukebox, laughing and talking. One of them is wearing a shirt with bright pink flamingos printed on it, along with a yellow feather boa draped around his neck.
“I’m with my brother, Brantley—the one who insisted on that crazy getup—and his roommate, Vonn, whose birthday we’re celebrating.” His eyes flicker to them briefly, obvious affection in his gaze, before returning to me. “I drove in from Jacksonville late last night to join them.”
I nod politely, not sure what to say. “Well, I hope you guys have a great night.” I turn back to my drink and studiously take another sip of the dangerous concoction while acknowledging Casey and Becket’s attention is fixed on me with unfettered curiosity. This drink is deliciously sweet and I know it’s masking the copious amount of liquor Casey put in it. And I can’t get hammered. I should—and I really want to—but I can’t. I have bigger fish to fry.
Like figuring out my freaking life.
With a long sigh, I unzip my wristlet and withdraw my cell phone—whose ring had been silenced—to face the “music” I know is about to blare at me.
Let this be noted as mistake number one. Because I’m certain my phone is going to overheat from the number of text messages and missed calls I’ve received already. Mainly, the ones from my father.
Dad: You’d better get back here now, young lady.
I continue scrolling past all of his other messages until I get to the last one, time stamped from about five minutes ago.
Dad: Consider yourself disowned. Don’t even think of coming back to this house after the way you’ve embarrassed everyone.
Huh. Well, thank heavens I’d already thought of that and had made a quick stop at the house before driving here. I’d scooped up the items I’d need most, knowing my father’s reaction would be extreme. Maybe I was delusional, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
Just as I’m about to place my phone back in my wristlet and avoid the remainder of the painful messages sure to come, another one comes in.
Dad: Forget your job at the magazine. It’s done. You’re done. You did this, Emma Jane.
My chest tightens and my stomach churns sickly. I knew it was coming but it doesn’t make it any less devastating. I’d worked my ass off for Southern Charm Lifestyle magazine at their new location in Mobile. I know I have the potential to rise up in the ranks.
But now it’s gone. Poof. All because of my father. The one and only Davis Haywood, city councilman, owner of the local newspaper and the city’s largest magazine, and commercial developer galore. He has the money and power to make things happen in Mobile.
I just never thought he’d use that money and power against his own daughter one day.
“So.” Becket startles me, so caught up in my own drama-filled thoughts. “You might not know this about me, but I was brought up to be a gentleman.”
I regard him warily, unsure where he’s going with this. “O-kay,” I drag out the word slowly.
“This means I can’t leave you sitting at this bar, staring down at your phone, looking like your puppy just died.”
I shoot him a hard glare that would normally cause people to rear back…but then I recall that this man faces the risk of being tackled by two-hundred-plus-pound men on any given game day.
So, as much as my dangerously narrowed eyes might flare with the “Don’t even go there” vibe, my glare does nothing.
He looks around first before slipping his ball cap around on his head, the brim now at the back. And honestly, on any other grown man, it would look juvenile. On Becket Jones, however, it actually looks cute.
Casey slides a bottle of water to him, which Becket uncaps before downing half of it. Resting his arms on the bar, he playfully nudges me with his shoulder.
“Go ahead. Spill.”
Exhaling loudly, I peer up at him skeptically. “You really want—”
“To hear all the sordid details?” He grins at me, nearly blinding me with his pearly white teeth. “Absolutely.”
Shaking my head at him, I take another sip of my drink and toy with my straw, making the ice cubes clink together within my cup. “Fine. But don’t you dare give me a bless your heart that’s chock-full of pity.”
Letting a long sigh loose, I answer, my voice muted and laced with pain. And I hate the way it sounds.
“I’m running from a man who doesn’t really love me.”About the Author: RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl. Email: email@example.com Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2iNvOqS Website: http://www.rcboldtbooks.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rcboldtauthor Twitter: https://twitter.com/RC_Boldt Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2iNCOnF Instagram: http://bit.ly/2iRJVxM
Dark and tempting, Daddy's Home by Zoe Blake is coming soon on November 28th! He'll do anything...anything...to break her.http://www.zblakebooks.com/ Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2y4svpA Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/zblakebooks/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/zblakebooks Amazon: http://amzn.to/2A6bJ7s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/zblakebooks/
Happy Cover Reveal Day to USA Today & International Bestselling author J.C. Valentine! Check out the hot cover for ??➹⁀ MARKED FOR DEATH?➹⁀ ?, book #1 in the Blind Jacks MC series, designed by Brandi Salazar Editing Service! Coming 11
Marked for Death
by J.C. Valentine Blind Jacks MC #1 Publication Date: November 29, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, MC, Biker, Romance
If you love badass bikers and the smart, caring ladies who fall for them, then you'll love the Blind Jacks MC! Marked for Death is coming November 29th!
Leading a nomadic life, I’ve been on the run from my rich ex-husband for years. I’ve learned every trick in the book, staying one step ahead of him and his trackers. He’s taken everything from me, and despite everything, I’ve managed to carve out a life. But he’s getting close again. It’s time to hit the road, to start over…but it looks like the universe has other plans.
As Sargent at Arms, stalking the crazy man trying to kill my MC brothers is part of my job description. Protecting the club is what I live for. Unfortunately, today I’m the loser in our never ending game of cat and mouse. The last thing I remember before waking up in the emergency room is staring up at the sky while bleeding out onto the cold, hard pavement. Then the pretty nurse walks in and turns my world sideways, and those soft hands know just how to handle a big, angry biker like me. With a psycho on my tail, the stakes couldn’t be higher. I know I should walk away, but self-preservation has never been much of a strong suit. As my enemy closes in, I’ve got no gun, three bullet holes, and absolutely zero patience left. The question is, who will be the one to sign my death warrant—the crazy-ass biker who’s gunning for me…or the sexy-as-sin nurse I’ve got a hard-on for?
“Call me Ryder.” His head was still throbbing, and his fingers were half numb, but he wanted to hear his name on her lips. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his eyes to drift from her face down to her chest, landing on her name badge. Tiffany Stone, RN. Looking up to recapture her eyes, he spoke quietly. “Miss Tiffany, if I’m going to survive, I need your help.”
“I don’t know how I can be any more help than I already have in this situation. I’m just a nurse.”
He hated seeing the fear so clearly stamped on her attractive face as she gazed up at him.
Cupping her face in his hands, he tried to communicate the urgency of his need. Meeting her eyes, his words were sincere when he told her, “I can’t be found here, electronically or physically. You are the only person I have right now. Will you help me?”
After facing off with the estranged man, Ryder could tell that his open honesty affected her, softening her to his request.
“Look, doll, you were amazing. How often do you get the chance to match wits with a killer while a man’s life hangs in the balance?”
Ignoring his attempt at humor, she replied thoughtfully, “Fine, Ryder. This is my last day at this job, so I’ll take a chance for you. Updating your information in our database shouldn’t be too difficult, since we have identity issues with our patients off and on. If I don’t modify that information, they might give him information on you if they think he’s family.
“Him coming here again is too much of a risk for you and the other patients we’re treating, so it’s a lesser of two evils kind of choice for me. In fact, we might be able to stash you in one of the empty offices in the back for the night, then on the off chance that he comes barreling back in here, he won’t find you lying helpless on your back.”
Grabbing her by the arm, he whispered, “You’re a woman after my own heart.”
Ignoring his gentle flirting, she placed a warm hand on his chest and eased him back again. “I’ll be back when things calm down, gorgeous. In an hour or so, it’ll be a ghost town out there. You’ll likely be transferred to another hospital in the morning. They won’t want to discharge you in your condition.”
“I need my…personal effects.”
Turning her sharp gaze on him, she quipped humorlessly, “I saw your personal effects, Ryder. I’m betting you’d be happy if I just brought your wallet and gun, right?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Tiff. I got a killer on my tail. Of fuckin’ course I want my one and only weapon.”
Sighing, she folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t see how that’s going to happen. The social workers log it and lock it upon arrival. I don’t even have access to it."
“I can’t protect us without a weapon. Can you bring me one in somehow?”
Her eyes got huge. “Are you seriously asking me to bring you a weapon? No, absolutely not. I don’t mind helping you stay alive, but I’m not going to end up in an orange jumpsuit over bringing a perfect stranger a weapon.”
“So, you think I’m perfect?”
Her eyes widened. “What? No. That was a figure of speech.”
Ryder smirked. “You already called me gorgeous. I think you do like the look of me.”
She glared back at him. “Don’t even think of trying to sweet talk me into breaking the law. I won’t do it. Not for you or any other hot guy.”
“So, now I’ve stepped up to hot?” For some godforsaken reason, he couldn’t stop himself from flirting with the adorably innocent nurse. Now was so not the time, but Junior was raring to go.
Rolling her eyes, she folded her arms over her chest. “Sure, you’re hot. Are you happy now?”
“Come, sit on Daddy’s lap.” Where the fuck did that come from? Ryder realized in that moment that his dick was doing all the talking.
“You’re freaking unbelievable. You don’t have time for shit like that. You’re a walking dead man, remember? Get your head together.” The woman’s face was flaming red. Whether it was from true anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell, but it was fucking sexy as hell.
Her harsh words felt like getting doused with cold water.
“Whatever you say, Nurse Stone.” He heard his tone of voice change as he edged into asshole mode again. Something about being brought up short by the hot nurse seriously aggravated him. She was all kinds of right about how this wasn’t the time or place, but it still pissed him off.
There would never be an appropriate time for a woman like her to sit on his lap. This was a fact he was all too aware of, and it had him feeling some kind of way.
ABOUT J.C. VALENTINE
J.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Trilogy. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry.
Living in the Northwest, she has three amazing children and far too many pets. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors.
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