Title: He’s a Brute
Author: Chloe Liese
Series: Tough Love, #1
Publication date: May 6th 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
One dark and handsome control-freak sports star meets one smarty pants bioengineer with hair to match her fiery temper. It’s an experiment straight out of sexual thermodynamics.
Every good scientist knows the second law of thermodynamics: the universe’s disorder, entropy, is always increasing. Professionally and personally speaking, Nairne’s familiar with the principle. After a streak of costly fame, now she’s set on saving the world, microscope in hand, and there’s no time for romance. Problem is, when a rude, despicably sexy Adonis shows up to run their board meeting, chemistry and its ensuing chaos become more than a formula—now they’re a burning hot reality.
Mafia prince. Professional footballer. Bad boy demeanor and a reputation for being as talented between the sheets as he is on the pitch. Rumors are the man’s an absolute brute. And he turns out to be just as demanding, controlling and vicious in person as he is on paper. The Law of Attraction’s proven true, as Nairne finds herself accepting Zed’s proposal: rough, wild stress release, more orgasms than she can count, and most importantly—no falling in love.
Agreement in place. End date secured.
No attachments. No forever.
What could possibly go wrong?Book One in the Tough Love Series—an enemies to lovers, suspenseful romance, full of sexy Italians, bedroom negotiations, feisty heroines, and an ending that’ll both satisfy you and leave you ready for more!”
I took a few careful steps toward her because something about her made me uneasy. From the other end of the table, she’d been lovely. A pretty face with a pouty frown. By the time I was one third the way down the conference table toward her, she was devastating. I stopped because she was affecting me plenty from twelve feet away. Long and glossy dark auburn hair. Ivory skin. Fine bones, a smattering of freckles, and a warm glow to her cheeks. Her eyes were the real showstopper, though. They were an unfairly high chroma green, like blades of grass darkened after rain. They glittered with defiance and not a little contempt for me as she spoke.
“Understood, Mr. Salvatore. I look forward to showing you how misplaced your concern is. Until then, I’ll remember not to take such stingy optimism personally.”
No one spoke to me like that. I was Zedekiah Lazaro Salvatore, Deirdre O’Shea and Brando Salvatore’s firstborn. Boston fucking royalty, king of the soccer field, and prince of the city’s Italian criminal underworld. People kissed my ass and rolled out the red carpet. They bowed their heads and averted their eyes. Nobody gave me shit. Except Nairne MacGregor, apparently.
I dropped my grip on my jacket to hide the boner her sharp mouth gave me and feigned a smile. “You’ll excuse me.”
Waiting for her polite acknowledgment was out of the question. If I stuck around, she’d know exactly what her sass did to my body. I stormed out, knocked shoulders with someone and muttered an apology, then barreled toward the exit. I wasn’t normally clumsy—both of my professions were predicated on exceptional coordination and hyper-awareness—but I chalked it up to ninety-five percent of my blood gathering in my dick rather than my brain. Finally, I landed outside where I sucked in a breath and oriented myself.
Observing her during the meeting had been torture. Elbow on the table, jotting things down then setting her pen exactly parallel to the paper’s edge. Precise. Perfectionist. She’d listened while her wide green eyes darted between people as they spoke. Nairne was neurotically observant, cunning even. Watching her gears turning had turned me on. Big time.
She hadn’t spoken much, but when she had, I’d noted her vowels were off. She had an accent, and it wasn’t Southie. I couldn’t place it, and just like her hair that wouldn’t make up its mind between mahogany and rich red, her speech was another wrinkle in my morning. I’d never been this simultaneously annoyed and aroused.
Chloe’s always been a sucker for a suspenseful steamy romance, ever since she managed to find the one saucy mystery series hiding in her high school’s prim little library. Nothing drives her crazier than a story that cranks up the heat, then closes the door on the reader’s face, so don’t read her books if you don’t want to know what actually happens when the lights fade to black…
When she’s not writing, Chloe’s busy reading books of all genres, rereading Harry Potter (which she can’t help but make her characters similarly obsessed over), and playing catch-up with her bad@$$ little girls. She’s also been known to scramble around the pitch for a pick-up soccer match and run along the river while dreaming up her next book.
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Title: Breaking the Rules
Author: Tinthia Clemant
Publication date: April 15th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Love isn’t supposed to hurt.
Hedge witch Shannon Baldos isn’t looking for love. She isn’t even looking for sex. She’s looking for the courage to finally leave her gaslighting husband’s ass. So the last thing she needs is a distraction, like the town’s land-grabbing yet oh so sexy property developer, Adam St. John.
Then again, maybe a little distraction is exactly what she does need.
Growing up under the domineering thumb of her maternal grandmother, and then married to a misogynistic husband, thirty-nine-year-old Shannon Baldos has learned that love hurts. For almost seven years she’s lived under the thumb of her abusive husband, all with the guise of wanting to give her son a stable home. The truth? She’s stayed because she’s a coward. Still is. But maybe, with heart fluttering, groin throbbing, Adam St. John by her side, or on top of her, under works too, she might discover some hidden courage and finally take her son and escape. As for falling for St. John and his pirate grin, not a chance. Rule #1: Don’t fall in love.
Referred to as an emotional train wreck, Wexford’s successful developer, Adam St. John, has rules. A lot of them. Created to keep him well-insulated from further pain and disappointment with regards to life, and love. At forty-nine, he’s quite happy with his life of solitude. With three divorces under his belt, he’s in no hurry to add a fourth. Besides, there are more than enough women willing to keep him warm at night. But when he meets the town’s green-eyed witch with the freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose, and the hips that sway under her flowing skirts, one night of passion leaves him craving more. Maybe it’s time to break a few rules.
In her newest novel, Breaking the Rules, Tinthia Clemant has woven a story about one brave woman’s determination to take back her life as she learns that love doesn’t always hurt.
Shannon fiddled with the buttons of her dress as she and Justin waited for their coffees. Outside, rain fell on people rushing by the window of the coffee shop. She moved her attention from the scene outside to her two-month-old son in the carrier next to her. He was the most beautiful baby she’d ever seen, and it still amazed her that he’d formed inside her body.
“Are you listening to me?”
She looked up at her husband of one year sitting on the opposite side of the booth and nodded. A sense of hopelessness washed over her. She’d tried to do everything right—paid for the train tickets with cash and not her credit card, hadn’t used her real name, all the little tricks she’d picked up from watching movies over the years. She’d even cut her hair. Yet Justin had found her after only two days. She wouldn’t make a very good spy.
“Say something,” Justin demanded, loud enough that the people across from the booth glanced over.
Shannon rubbed at her forehead. “I’m sorry, my head is pounding.” Hopefully, the lie would keep his anger at bay.
“Do you have anything you can take?”
He reached across the table and grabbed the diaper bag. After rifling the contents, he removed a pocket-sized tube of Advil, along with her cell phone.
She watched her phone slide into his coat pocket. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll hold on to your phone. Now that I’ve found the two of you, you won’t be needing it.” He poured four pills into his palm and held them out. “So, what do you think?”
“I need my phone.”
“I…I’m expecting a call.”
She struggled to come up with a name that wouldn’t set him off. “Maureen,” she lied a second time, hoping he didn’t know she hadn’t spoken to her coworker since quitting the ad agency.
“If she calls, I’ll give it to you. Now, back to what I said. What do you think?”
“What do I think about what?”
She received a severe frown as a response before he said, “You’re doing it again.”
“Not listening to me. How about thinking about me for once and not always yourself?”
“Yeah, you’re always sorry after you do something.”
She glanced at the baby. Satisfied he was still sleeping, she adjusted his blanket and returned her attention to the table, where she stared at her coffee.
Justin’s tone softened. “You make me do and say things. If you acted better, I wouldn’t be so hard on you.” He reached across the table again, this time offering his hand.
Shannon bit into her lower lip in the exact spot she’d recently opened with her right canine. Blood meandered through her teeth, and she slowly placed her hand in his.
“That’s my girl. What I said was, if you and Chad come back home where you belong, I’ll go to couples counseling like you asked. I can change.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what?”
“I don’t know what to do.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles but then squeezed her fingers, driving her wedding band into the side of her pinkie. “I’m not the bad guy, Shannon. Most of the time I’m only joking around, but you take things much too serious. You know what your problem is? You’re too sensitive. You need to lighten up.”
The baby squirmed and drew her attention. Chad scrunched his face, coloring the round cheeks so that he resembled an angry plum. “I have to clean him.” She moved from the booth and looped the strap of the diaper bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Justin pushed his chair back from the table and walked with her to the bathroom. “I’ll wait right here,” he said, positioning himself against the wall. She pulled on the door, but he blocked it. “I’m taking you back, Shannon. You need me—you’re too weak to raise a kid on your own.”
He released the door, and she entered the bathroom.
While changing Chad’s diaper, distant voices filled her ears, voices that belonged to ghosts who wouldn’t stay vanquished. In her mind she was a child of six and hiding under her grandmother’s heavy, wooden desk.
‘Don’t you walk away from me, young lady.’
The memory of the voice was like a cold wind, the kind that could get under her coat and raise goosebumps up her back.
She knew her mother would speak next; the memory was always the same—never changing because the dead wouldn’t allow it.
‘For Christ’s sake, Mother, I just buried my husband.’
‘Keep your voice down, Katherine. Do you want everyone to think you’re hysterical?’
‘I don’t care what people think. This is not the time to have this conversation.’
‘This is the perfect time. What are you planning on doing? Raising the child on your own? You know you’re not equipped for that.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my daughter.’
‘No, you’re not; you’re too weak. You need me.’
In the restaurant bathroom, Shannon squeezed her eyes closed, recalling the spider that had crawled up her young shin and how she’d placed her hand in its path and lowered it back to the floor. It had scurried out from under the desk, and her grandmother’s thick-soled shoe had turned it into a black splotch. That was how she felt now, like a spider with a dark shadow hanging over her head, ready to drop and crush both her and Chad.
“Shannon.” The doorknob rattled. “Hurry up.”
“I’ll be right out.” She unbuckled Chad from the changing table, returned him to his carrier, and paused to stroke his dark brown hair. In exchange for her tender touch, he cooed. She kissed his cheek and whispered, “I’m sorry munchkin. I tried.”
Tinthia Clemant was born in Medford, Massachusetts, over sixty years ago. Her childhood was a happy one. She lived in a loving home with her three siblings, mother and father. Her imagination soared as she passed the days enacting the scenes from the stories that spun through her mind.
Tinthia always wrote. From the time she first picked up a pencil, or perhaps it was a crayon, she wrote. Stories about searching for secrets. Stories about joy and sadness; friendship and betrayal; and, of course, stories about true love.
She self-published her first book by stapling six pages together. Her marketing plan was simple–give the book to her mother for Mother’s Day. Marketing her indie-published books has gotten a whole lot harder but she pushes on, knowing the worlds she creates will take each reader on a magical journey.
A romantic women’s fiction author, Tinthia fell in love with romance when she witnessed, at the impressionable age of five, the power of true love. On the silver screen of the Meadow Glen drive-in, she watched Prince Phillip defeat Maleficent’s tangled web of thorns and the fire-breathing dragon so he could save his lady love. As Phillip pressed his lips against Sleeping Beauty’s, she understood the power of true love’s first kiss.
As a hopeful romantic, Tinthia has searched far and wide for that special someone who will take her breath away. Unfortunately, she has yet to find love’s magical kiss. However, she learned a lot about herself along the way and uses these lessons to weave her stories and the strong (and older) heroines she brings to life.
Tinthia lives on the banks of the Concord River and spends her time teaching science at a local community college, gardening, painting, tending her flock of Mallards (follow her natural history blog at: concordriverlady.com), reading, and, of course, writing about journeys, disappointment, joy, and true love. Her two favorite men are Ben and Jerry and she wishes they would bring back the summer flavor, Blueberry Cheesecake.
To learn more about this author visit the following links:
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May 16th, 2019
Dawn of a Legend
(The Silvan, #3)
Publication date: May 3rd 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
Book three in The Silvan, a best-selling series by award-winning author R.K. Lander. “Page-turning epic fantasy you will not be able to put down.”
A past to claim
A power to wield
A destiny to fulfil
To the enemy, Fel’annár is just a half-blood bastard, but to the Silvan people, he is their crownless warrior prince. Returning from battle in the mountains, he grieves for one who was lost, a death that triggers a mystery Fel’annár and his company of chosen brothers must unravel. But why do the trees speak of a beautiful monster?
Fel’annár will learn the ways of the Kah Warrior from a legendary commander while facing the disdain of another who struggles to accept this ‘ignoble son’ for who he is, not for what he represents. Meanwhile, Fel’annár’s royal half-brother reveals a plan to restore the Great Forest to its past splendour of multi-cultural harmony. But the Forest is falling apart under the final onslaught of a ruthless traitor and the Silvan people are turning away from their ruler. Can Fel’annár come to understand what role he must play in this plan before it is too late? Can the brothers put aside their resentment towards each other for tearing their families apart and learn to trust one another? Can love prosper in the midst of battle and hardship as dark enemies converge on the Motherland?
Danger lies in wait for an elf who is slowly coming to terms with his heritage, learning to wield a natural ability and accepting the nature of his unfolding destiny.
The greatest warriors of their time will come together once more—in the name of justice. In the name of love.
Start your Silvan adventure today!
Book One: Path of a Novice
Book Two: Road of a Warrior (Best Indie Book Award winner 2018)
Book Three: Dawn of a Legend – coming soon
Book Four: Rise of a Warlord – 2020
The thud of an arrow piercing flesh, a cry of pain from an elven warrior who was thrown to the floor with the force of the bolt.
A roar of anger, a plea for aid, the scream of a defeated soldier, the desperate sounds of elves and Deviants locked in combat, fighting and dying in the frigid cold. But Fel’annár did not flinch, even though he stood in the midst of the chaos. He couldn’t; he was the only master archer left, the only one who could eliminate the Deviant snipers that were picking off their warriors.
He sighted his next target, stance perfect; it had to be. His arm did not waver, it could not, and his heart did not feel; it must not. He would not allow that, and when the last sniper was down, he whipped out his long and short swords with a morbid sense of satisfaction and moved closer to Captain Comon and The Company’s position, where the fighting was at its worst.
The shriek of polished metal upon rusted iron grated on their ears, but it did not deter the Alpine warriors of Tar’eastór, even though they had been fighting almost constantly for the last weeks. They bore down upon the rotting mass of Deviants that had thought to surprise them, their elven faces twisted into snarls of hatred for an enemy that was relentless, ruthless.
“Behind you,” warned Fel’annár as he moved closer to his captain to engage another Deviant, whose massive scimitar swung unnervingly close over his head. Shocked, he flipped backwards to gain space and time and then moved to the side and scored a blow to the Deviant’s shoulder. But that only served to enrage it. Roaring in unbridled wrath, the beast bore down on Fel’annár with such strength it sent him stumbling backwards. What was wrong with him? Yet even as he asked himself he knew the answer: he was tired, his concentration slipping, and this opponent was not going down easily.
Swivelling his right sword to the left, he whirled around and sliced into its other side, garnering another unearthly shriek that vibrated painfully in his ears.
He moved in from the front this time, but the beast’s counter blow was so strong it was all Fel’annár could do to keep his sword from flying out of his sticky hand; he was off balance once more, and the nascent tingle of dread began to take hold of him.
Fel’annár raised both blades and brought them down upon his enemy, but they were blocked, and for one strange moment, bright green eyes locked with the cloudy but challenging gaze of the Deviant. There was hatred and cruelty there, as there always was; he had expected that, but Fel’annár hesitated, for there was something more, something he could not place. His brow twitched in confusion, but before he could ponder it any longer, the handle of the Deviant’s blade caught him in the side of the head with a heavy thud, sending him stumbling backwards and then, to his utter horror, to his knees. He was down, and he desperately blinked to clear his reeling mind, not fast enough to avoid the boot that crashed into his mid-section, sending him gasping to the floor. It was all he could do to roll out of the way as the scimitar came down upon him, missing him by mere inches, a blessing in disguise, for the beast had placed so much weight behind the blow that it overcompensated. Fel’annár had just enough time to plunge both swords into its mid-section.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
I write epic fantasy for adults. I love battles, warriors, great adventures – elves, monsters and generally weird things, but above all, I love a good story with compelling characters.
My first project is The Silvan Series, with book three, Dawn of a Legend ready to launch April 2019. I hope you’ll enjoy my stories and perhaps click the ‘follow’ button. And I would love to see you over at rklander.com. You’ll find some story extras there and freebie if you’re interested.
Title: I Spy the Boy Next Door
Author: Samantha Armstrong
Publication date: May 25th 2019
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Four p.m. spy sessions are the highlight of Mallory Taylor’s day. Observing the boy next door—one with a body and an attitude to match—has her perched beside her window so often it can’t be healthy.
When she finally convinces her mom to let her go to public school, Mallory comes face to face with her neighbor, Troy Parker. And he makes it clear he wants nothing to do with her. His rejection awakens a newfound tenacity and maybe even a touch of recklessness. But when Troy starts to show up when she needs him the most, Mallory can’t help but wonder if there’s more to him than he’s let on.
Taking chances, breaking rules, and following her heart is all new to Mallory. And no one warned her just how fickle hearts can be. When she discovers that Troy isn’t at all the guy she imagined him to be, secrets rise to the surface that will change her life forever.
**This is a standalone mature YA/new adult contemporary romance.
We’re about ten minutes into the lesson when everything around me stops and spins. I don’t know which because all I can see is him.
“Mr. Parker, nice of you to join us,” Mr. Brown says.
I stalked him a few years ago on Facebook to see if we were in the same grade, but I wasn’t expecting to be in the same class.
My day just got a hell of a lot better.
I press my palm to my chest, feeling the familiar beat. I press harder, hoping the pressure will soften the racket inside of me.
He slides a note onto Mr. Brown’s desk, barely acknowledging him before returning his attention to his phone. His fingers fly across the screen as he walks down the aisle.
Please look at me. Please look at me. Please look at me, I silently chant, but when he turns and heads directly for me, my prayers abruptly change. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me.
My heart’s thumping so hard against my ribcage, I’m losing air.
This is the moment.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve been envisioning it for so long, and now that it’s about to happen, everything I’ve ever planned I would do or say has gone out the window. I start clicking my pen, then tapping my foot. I should be focusing on the lesson at the front of the room, but I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s wearing a hood, but I can see his hair slipping out from under it. Dark jeans hang low on his hips, and a bag sits snug on his back.
He’s only a few steps away. I swallow.
He’s in front of me. He looks up.
My breath catches in my throat.
His eyes widen, then narrow. All these years later, he still doesn’t smile at me.
And I realize, I sat in an already claimed seat.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Samantha Armstrong’s novels incorporate all of the feels–from swoon-worthy heroes to sweet-but-mostly-sassy heroines, quirk and laughter to emotional grit and panty melting-heat. She has written in multiple genres, but never strays far from romance.
Born and raised in New Zealand, Samantha Armstrong prefers to be tucked away writing whenever she can — or, rather, whenever her adorable yet demanding baby boy allows.
A normal day for her includes diapers–lots of them–walks with both babies (i.e. human baby and dog baby), writing between naps, and staying up late to write even more. Then somehow fitting all the other stuff in between.
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Title: In Other Words
Author: Jennifer Woodhull
Publication date: April 30th 2019
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
We became close friends in college. When Sinclair returns home to Dallas after two years in New York, I introduce her to my best friend Cole. The good-looking playboy ballplayer is the perfect kind of guy for the woman I’m sure would never be interested in me…even if seeing them together breaks my heart.
He was the nerdy PhD candidate. I was the cheerleader. We made unlikely friends. Moving back home after two years away, he looks hotter than ever. When I start dating his ballplayer best friend, things get complicated. He doesn’t see me as girlfriend material…but I can’t get him, or my feelings for him, out of my head.
There are not enough words. I don’t mean that in a dramatic way as if there are not enough words to express something with which I’m momentarily frustrated. I mean there are often times when the optimum word for something simply does not exist.
Fernweh is a German word that describes a feeling of homesickness for a place you’ve never visited before. The Swedish word, lagom, describes taking not too much nor too little, but just the right amount of something. To wear or use something for the very first time is expressed in Spanish by the word estrenar.
I love words more than anything. I love hearing someone intelligent use the absolutely perfect, most fitting word at exactly the right moment. I love anagrams, crossword puzzles, and riddles. I love how they make me think about language and how people use it. Perhaps most of all though, I love awful puns—even dad-level terrible ones. I only know one person who loves language as much as I do, and he also happens to be the very person I can hardly wait to see.
The Portuguese have a word for the sensation of nostalgia and longing for someone who is far away. Saudade. That’s what I’ve been experiencing since I moved to New York. I have saudade for Dexter Flynn, but that’s about to come to an end.
I walk into The Tipsy Alchemist, an upscale hipster place Dexter chose to start our reunion evening. I visually scour the space, and am disappointed when I don’t see him. I walk the length of the bar and just as I’m about to turn and head back toward the front, a man leans in close behind me and says, “Excuse me, miss, but might I buy your first libation of the evening?”
I turn, ready to tell the guy to get lost so I can call the person I want most in the world to see. When I turn around, though, I’m met with a pair of sweet, soulful brown eyes hiding behind tortoiseshell frames. My heart darts around my chest. I throw my arms around him so hard, I nearly send us both tumbling to the floor.
“Dex!” I squeal, squeezing his neck. His arms wrap around me, and they’re far stronger than I remember.
“It’s about time you came back,” he whispers into the side of my neck as he squeezes me tightly. “I’ve missed you, Clair.”
I feel an instant wash of relief, being here in his arms. The feel of his cheek against mine and the smell of his aftershave trigger an eruption of happy memories. My brain floods with late night talks and board game marathons. My circuits overload with shared stories and supporting each other through tough times—with gushing over books and documentaries at the independent theatre. He has been such a huge part of my life for so long, and now, with him, I finally feel like I’m really home.
When we finally break from our embrace, we both realize we’re standing in the highest traffic area of the bar, and the place is so packed we might be physically in danger from rowdy patrons clamoring for beer.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand. “I reserved us a booth.”
He leads me through the trendy, dark-paneled space to the back where tiny, high-walled booths, are situated. This area of the bar is quieter than the rest, and the high walls of our booth offer some much-appreciated privacy.
The booth to our immediate right houses what I can only assume is a bachelorette party judging by the volume and frequency of the word woo, coming from their direction.
When the server arrives, I order a cocktail, and Dex orders a beer. “Miss, can I ask, the group of ladies in the booth next to us…is one of them a bachelorette, by chance?” He smirks in my direction.
“Actually, yeah. Are they being too rowdy?”
“Not at all. I was just curious,” he replies. I snicker and he winks in response.
“It’s a cool story, actually,” the server pauses to tell us more detail. “She just got out of the military. She met her fiancé while they were stationed together. He was injured, and she’s a nurse.” She puts her hand to her chest. “They fell in love while he recovered in her hospital.”
Dex and I look at each other, and each make the universal face that any red-blooded human with feelings makes when seeing a baby, or a puppy, or hearing a sweet love story. “Aww,” we say in unison, laughing.
“Would you please take them a bottle of Dom Perignon and put it on my tab? Anonymous, though, please…with thanks for her service, and her fiancé’s,” Dex adds.
“Wow, that’s really nice of you! Absolutely, I’ll take care of it,” the server replies.
When she walks out of Dexter’s line of sight, she catches my eye and mouths the words, “Lucky you,” with a wink. It makes me smile unreasonably wide.
Lucky me that such a kind, thoughtful, generous man is in my life and cares so much for me. Lucky me that he’s my friend. Unlucky me that he’s not more than just a friend.
“That was very generous of you,” I tell him.
“I had the good luck to meet an inventor whose work I really admire once at a party. Knowing I was new to success, he told me, “I always say, if you’ve got it, spread it around. Nobody likes a successful, stingy asshole.” I’ve always tried to remember that,” he says with a shrug. We toast to successful good guys.
“You look amazing, Sinclair.” Dex is grinning at me, his brown eyes sparkling.
I reach across the table and take both his hands in mine, giving them a squeeze. “You look amazing too. By the way,” I say, stifling a giggle. “I didn’t know I’d need tickets.”
“Tickets? For…what, exactly?” He cocks an eyebrow up in question.
“The gun show,” I reply, pointing to what I can see is a pronounced bicep on each arm.
His cheeks flush with crimson as he looks down and away. The expression belongs to the shy, gangly guy I met in school, not the hunky, successful entrepreneur sitting across from me.
“So, have you been hitting the gym, or did you invent some magical neurotransmitter that passively enhances muscle tissue?” I tease. “Because if you have, please sign me up as a test subject. Pilates is torture, but I like to eat far too much to ever give it up without some sort of alternative.”
He chuckles. “I like to think of the fitness thing as my transformation to Dexter two-dot-oh. I have to say, I don’t hate that my efforts are producing noticeable results. I told you about my business partner Cole, right?” He asks sheepishly.
“Your friend Cole, yes,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
I think he still has a little trouble wrapping the high school part of his brain around being friends with a jock.
“Yeah. Anyway, since he pitches for the Frontiersmen he knows all the best personal trainers. He convinced me to start working out with one he recommended. I go to the gym almost every day now. Turns out I’m not as unathletic as I thought I was.” He grins wide, pride evident on his face.
“You certainly seem like you’re feeling pretty good,” I reply. I stand up enough to reach across and squeeze his bicep. “Yep, feeling pretty darn good to me.”
He smiles, then he shakes his head and chuckles. “I really do feel good…and even better now.” Something flashes briefly in his chocolate-brown eyes, then he smirks. “I’m just so happy you’re back, Clair.”
Clair. No one but him calls me that. The way he says it is familiar and makes me feel special that he has a nickname just for me. It’s the same way I call him Dex. Those terms of endearment are just for us, like they’re special words all our own.
By the time we finish the drinks the server brings over my stomach is growling, so we head down the street to a Mexican place that has always been one of my favorites.
As we walk the four or five blocks to the restaurant, a group of girls walking the opposite direction toward us are all checking Dex out as they pass. I turn to look over my shoulder and see them all looking back, whispering and giggling. When I look over at him, he seems oblivious.
And this is why he has trouble finding the right girl. He has no clue when a woman is into him.
I bump his shoulder with mine.
“They were checking you out,” I say with a smirk.
“That group of girls that walked by. They were cute, too.”
He rolls his eyes.
“So, not seeing anyone?” I ask.
“Not at the moment.” He lets out a sigh. “Maybe I’m too picky.”
“Maybe you are,” I agree.
And that’s the other reason he can’t find the right girl. He has never fully explained the criteria with me, but he seems never to have found a girl that checks all the boxes on the list of Dex requirements for the perfect girl.
Someone as genuine and kind, as smart and as funny as Dex deserves someone wonderful, though—someone who can see him for everything he is. I have tried to resign myself to the fact that I’m not that girl in his eyes. I only hope that one day he finds her, and she deserves him.
That brings me to another word that should exist, but doesn’t. There should be a word for enjoying something you have, but still wishing it was much, much more.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Jennifer Woodhull is based in the Southern United States, spending time in her second home of England, and traveling as often as she can. Her love of travel permeates her work, and her characters often find themselves exploring new and foreign surroundings.
A keen observer of human behavior, Jennifer often draws inspiration from something as simple as a fleeting connection, or the glimpse of a unique trait or characteristic. Her favorite place to write is on airplanes.
“The drone of the engine, the scores of people, all traveling to something or from something, and being disconnected from digital distractions are a combination that provide the perfect place to write,” she says. “If you see a woman in seat 9F who is balancing her Macbook on her lap because it’s time to close your tray table, please have patience. I’m just trying to finish one more sentence.”
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Title: Lead The Way
Author: Brittany Carter
Published by: Swoon Romance
Publication date: April 22nd 2019
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Fresh off the high of college graduation, Melody James is back in her Podunk town. She needs a job, but first, she’ll spend a lazy summer with no agenda at all.
But life’s got other plans for Melody, ones she’d sooner ignore. When the next-door neighbor passes away, his son returns home to take care of his affairs. Thane Cohen hasn’t been home in ten years. The last time he was, someone accused him of murdering Melody’s parents. Now, after major efforts to recover his self-worth and start a construction company, Thane wonders if enough time has passed for him to clear his once good name.
At the time of the murders, Melody was the only person who didn’t believe Thane was responsible. But how could she even suggest otherwise when just about everyone in town was convinced of Thane’s guilt? Her brothers would never allow it. With nothing to lose before, Thane packed up and left, leaving the town and Melody behind. Now that he’s back, rekindling an old flame in Melody and proving his innocence are critical.
When several car windshields get broken and fires start unexpectedly, the world inside their little town is tossed upside down. With Melody’s brother against her, and Thane fighting every attempt she makes at breaking down his walls, Melody’s push for answers leads her to a frightening conclusion. Thane may actually know more about her parents’ death than she was lead to believe. Can she trust him, or has everyone else been right about him all along? Only time will tell if she can let love lead the way.
*Author previously wrote under the name, Alla Kar
One side of his mouth curled for a nanosecond. “You need to leave. Your brothers are gonna catch you.”
She placed the carrots in her hand on the table behind him. “You’re not scared of my brothers.”
“I’m not. But they’ll tan your hide if you get caught over here.”
She shrugged. “I’m not scared of my brothers either.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and her heart began to patter. Thoughts drifted from her head, taking away her ability to speak. She leaned forward; one palm rested against his wide chest. Suddenly, he shifted, grabbed her waist, and placed her on the table behind them. With one hand on either side of her hips, he leaned forward. He smelled woodsy, like rain, earth, and man. It intoxicated her brain, filling her body with raging feelings. Feelings she’d never had before. Not once had Lucas ever made her feel so alive without touching her.
Her mouth watered as he neared, his lips only a hairbreadth away from her own, the minty smell of his mouth had her head gone. His unruly hair was messy from the rain, and she reached up with her other hand to run her fingers through it.
He caught her wrist; his thumb ran three slow circles around her pulse. Kiss me … please. She had no idea why her body betrayed her so easily. The tip of his tongue ran across his bottom lip. Melody couldn’t look away from it, even when he took his other thumb and ran it across her bottom lip. The tension weighed heavily down on her chest, begging for a release.
Just one kiss would cure her, right?
A deep grunt left his throat, and she just knew he’d kiss her. She knew he would lean down and put her out of her misery. Only one more inch and …
“Go home,” he whispered against her mouth.
Her heart sank with embarrassment. Rejection clogged her throat. She wanted to crawl into the dirt and die. Turning her head, she looked down at the shed floor. She was stupid for going over.
Melody jumped down from the table, stopping at the door. “I know you didn’t do it,” she whispered. Thane leaned over the table again, palms flat against the wood, his eyes fixated on her. “You don’t know anything, Melody.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Brittany Booker Carter previously writing as Alla Kar. I’m a Christian, lover or romance, a wife and mother to a wild-child!
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Title: What Matters More
Author: Liora Blake
Publication date: April 9th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A sexy contemporary romance about what happens when a casual one-night stand becomes anything but casual.
JT Maxwell has it all . . . well, almost. He’s a US Marshal, he looks like he belongs in an aftershave commercial, and he has tattoos—lots of tattoos. Unfortunately, he’s also in debt up to his pretty blue eyeballs. Between that and his recent divorce, his personal life is nonexistent these days. But when a free-spirited artist approaches him for a no-strings-attached one-night stand, things suddenly start looking up.
Anya Alves’s life is a mess. She’s lost her job, caught her boyfriend cheating on her, and if it weren’t for the house-sitting gig she just landed, she’d be homeless. On top of all that, her creative muse has up and disappeared. If she doesn’t get it back, her burgeoning career as an artist will be over before it starts. But after indulging in a steamy hook-up with a guy who makes it easy to forget her troubles, she gets her mojo back.
The last thing she expects when starting her house-sitting job, is to see her sexy one-night stand again . . . living right across the street.
Anya managed a nervous smile and thrust her arms forward, with the baking pan perched in her hands like an offering—one she suddenly wasn’t sure would be welcome.
“We made enchiladas for dinner,” she blurted out. “And we saved some for you. Tara said you can send her a thank-you note tomorrow. I kept them warm, and I have salad and some beer, too. Are you hungry?”
JT’s gaze zeroed in on the pan in her hands and he simply stared at it, not saying a word, even when Anya cleared her throat to ease the uncomfortable silence. She felt a blush creeping across her cheeks, and a panicked thought hit her. One that if she hadn’t lost her mind earlier, she would have been able to see coming before she found herself with these damn oven mitts on her hands.
Maybe this was a mistake.
She could see how this must look, this show of domesticity on her part that he certainly hadn’t asked for or even insinuated that he wanted. But here she was, making him dinner and keeping it warm until he arrived home, like she was some proper Kennedy-era housewife—which, on so many levels, she definitely wasn’t. Even the outfit she’d changed into, a lavender floral mini dress, made it look like all she was missing was a cute little vintage apron to complete the look.
Of course this was a mistake.
Anya considered setting the pan on the ground and walking away without saying another word. But then JT locked his eyes with hers. A hungry, heated look was on his face, and because she was regretting this whole thing now, she wasn’t sure whether that look was for her or the enchiladas. Either way, she needed him to say something soon because she was about to drop this hot pan and swoon, although not necessarily in that order.
“I’m starving,” JT rumbled. Then he made his way toward the door into the house, opened it, and invited Anya in with just the tip of his chin. She scooted past him in the doorway and swore that when she did, he actually grunted quietly as she passed.
Even then, she still wasn’t sure what he wanted to eat first.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Wife of one. Mom of three plus a Beagle.
Liora Blake is a contemporary romance author living in Colorado.
When she isn’t writing, she’s likely baking cookies she shouldn’t eat, inventing elaborate excuses to avoid going for a run, or asking the nice barista to sell her another quad-shot Americano.
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Series: The Mountain Man’s Babies : Book 10
Author: Frankie Love
Publication date: April 18th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
The moment I saw her I knew.
Knew that we would have a future, a family, a forever.
Her father says she’s too young, too naive, too innocent.
But she is more than he knows.
She’s the love of my goddamn life.
Then she’s gone in the blink of an eye.
But this mountain was made for miracles, and I’m fighting for ours.
I have faith in the impossible.
Faith in us.And nothing will stop me from being the man she needs.
FAITHFUL is the epic conclusion to the most romantic series to ever land on your Kindle.
I didn’t hold back with this one.
Suspense. Secrets. Steam.
But most of all, babies.
I promise you, Jonah is the baby-daddy of the year.
Get ready, sweetheart…
This trip to Miracle Mountain is gonna be one heck of a ride!
Book one in the series, TIMBER is FREE
from Apr 18-22 only!
My hand moves against her opening, she is slick and wet, my fingers at her center, her whimpers louder as I circle her clit. I need to taste her, and I ease down Faith, between her legs, my tongue running over her entrance. Her fingers run through my hair, her thighs trembling. I look up. “You okay, golden girl?”
“Yes,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “It’s just… I’ve never felt so many things at once.”
My hand stills against her. “Neither have I, Faith.” She understands what this means. Not just for her; for her virginity. But for me. “This isn’t how it normally goes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just met you, just tasted you, and fuck, I love you.”
Her eyes stay locked on mine. “Me too.”
It’s simple and true and crazy and ours. And when my mouth returns to her cunt, I lavish her with love. It’s fucking fast, this rush of emotions, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve spent a long ass time looking, waiting, wanting. Now I found Faith and I won’t let go. When you know, you fucking know.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men. As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in
love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters. She also believes in the power of a quickie.
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Title: Beautiful Nightmare
Author: L.C. Son
Series: Beautiful Nightmare, #1
Publication date: February 14th 2019
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
Damina Nicaud, a beautiful, successful art buyer in Washington, D.C., has been plagued by hauntingly romantic dreams of a mystery man every night. While she knows she shouldn’t consider her dreams to be anything more than anxiety brought on by her upcoming nuptials, she can’t help but be lured into its entreat. Unbeknownst to her, the dreamscape that plagues her mind will be all that carries her through eventual heartbreak and learning the truth of her orphaned lineage. She is more than human.
Escaping to New Orleans on the heels of her broken heart, she begins to unravel the mystery of her life while discovering a love powerful enough to unleash an ancient power residing within herself. Weaving through a world of artistic passion, vampires, wolves, and the supernatural, Damina Nicaud begins to take hold of her Beautiful Nightmare.
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This is our spot. The place where he comes to see me. I know he can see me because the moonlit sky illuminates the area where I stand like a spotlight. But under the golden oak is shadow cast. I can only see his silhouette.
I’ve never seen his full face. Just his eyes. The look in his crystalline green eyes paralyzes me with awe, fear, endearment, and safety.
He stays in the shadows, waiting for me to come closer. But I cannot. There are stirring shadows all around us. He is unmoved. I am afraid.
My fear keeps me from going closer and running into his embrace. I know that he will wrap me in his arms, and I will be safe. But I stand still. Frozen.
“A well-written paranormal romance, Beautiful Nightmare seamlessly blends the real with the fantastic. The novel delivers with a creative story and the element of fantastic that’s simply put, quite fantastic. Son uses location and setting effectively to convey emotion and atmosphere; her dream sequences are eloquent with a poetic flair, and there’s a careful reverence in the words she’s chosen, elevating the novel over other works in the genre.” Self-Publishing Review, ★★★★
“Filled with twist and turns, and an ending that makes me desperate for the next book, this book is definitely 1-click material. The characters, their connection, their journeys, and developments were well crafted and superbly detailed. Enjoy getting lost in this fabulous paranormal fantasy romance.” Bex ‘n’ Books, ★★★★
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Wife of one. Mom of three plus a Beagle.
Well, at least that’s how I’m described in the confines of my everyday life.
Writing has always been second nature to me. I spent my childhood creating short stories and my collegiate years writing for the campus paper (Go TERPS!) Jump twenty years to the present–I’m still writing. At my day job I spend most of my time writing capability briefs, white papers, proposals–you name it.
Then one day it hit me! It was time to access my own creative power and bring to life the characters I’ve created in my mind.
In addition to enjoying life with my amazing family, I can usually be found with my head in a book, binging my favorite shows, and watching movies with jaw-dropping scores! (I love all things Danny Elfman!)
I hope you enjoy my first book, Beautiful Nightmare. It has everything you’d look to find in a paranormal romance-urban fantasy-new age novel. Vampires. Wolves. Love. And so much more!
- $25 Amazon gift card + eBook copy of Beautiful Nightmare