WHISKEY SECRETS by Carrie Ann Ryan is on sale for .99c for a limited time! Pick up your copy of this sexy first installment in a Montgomery Ink spin-off series! About WHISKEY SECRETS (Whiskey and… More
Delve back into the world of Kennedy Layne’s sexy and suspenseful CSA Case Files series in this novella, available now!
A MISSION OF LOVE (CSA Case Files Series #8)
Be captivated by this USA Today Bestseller and drawn into a world filled with passion and intrigue!
USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne brings you a novella that was previously published in the Hot SEALs Kindle World. Delve back into the sensual world of the CSA Case Files once again!
Schultz and Julia’s affair is a burning flame of temptation. Their relationship is headed toward a future both of them desire until a mistake from her past returns to haunt them both.
When the fragile bond of trust is broken between them, it will take more than a promise of redemption for the two of them to find their way back to one another.
Get your hands on A MISSION OF LOVE now!
About the CSA Case Files Series
Crest Security Agency (CSA) is run by Gavin Crest, a retired Marine Master Sergeant. He has personally selected his own former military team members, both men and women, to configure a seamless Special Operations Capable (SOC) unit. Working together on investigations, domestically and abroad, each team member will find their niche in life and love. Follow along as Kennedy Layne conveys each of their stories as they work together on investigations that lead them down perilous paths of passion, intrigue and suspense…
About Kennedy Layne
Kennedy Layne is a USA Today bestselling author. She draws inspiration for her military romantic suspense novels in part from her not-so-secret second life as a wife of a retired Marine Master Sergeant. He doubles as her critique partner, beta reader, and military consultant. They live in the Midwest with their teenage son and menagerie of pets. The loyal dogs and mischievous cats appreciate her writing days as much as she does, usually curled up in front of the fireplace. She loves hearing from readers–find out how to connect with her at www.kennedylayne.com.
THE BREAKUP by Erin McCarthy is available now! Fall in love with the princess and the bad boy in this sexy contemporary romance you don’t want to miss!
About THE BREAKUP
Can two wrongs feel oh-so-right? This bride is about to find out—with the bad boy who makes an epic breakup worth her while.
Get your copy of THE BREAKUP now!
Read an excerpt from THE BREAKUP
I wanted the blonde.
I have a bad habit of always being attracted to women who are unavailable. Emotionally unavailable. I don’t know why I do that or what it is. If it’s just as simple as wanting what I can’t have, or some deep-seated bullshit about needing to win because I’m one of five kids from a family that was the town joke.
It’s also a protective measure because I’m not parading a bunch of women through my son’s life. I keep it casual. But I could do that with unattached women too, though probably not as easily.
So mostly I think it’s just because I’m an asshole.
Whatever the reasons, it had gotten me into trouble in the past, and as I watched the rich blonde, Bella Bigelow, stumble up to the bar totally drunk on Friday night, I knew I was doing it again. Chasing trouble. I had met her once before and I had thought she was fucking gorgeous. All long legs and tan skin and juicy tits. A perfect face with a lean nose and plump lips that I wanted to suck on.
Her sister was fucking my twin brother.
But her sister wasn’t engaged to be married.
“What can I get you, Bella?” I asked, leaning on my elbows on the bar top so I would be closer to her. She smelled like a rich girl. All lotions and perfume and expensive clothes. It was amazing to me that someone could smell like money, but she did. Being a bartender in a tourist town on the coast of Maine, I had seen my fair share of rich girls up from Boston. This one shouldn’t be any different.
And yet, for some reason she intrigued me.
“A vodka cranberry,” she said, sounding a little defiant and more than a little drunk.
This was her bachelorette party, and apparently she was taking the last-week-of-freedom crap all very seriously. The first time I had met her she had been sweet and polite. Now she was loud and demanding.
“Sure.” I lifted up a glass and poured vodka in it, reminding myself that while I liked unavailable girls, I didn’t like drunk girls. Not in bed anyway. Too sloppy, too limp. I liked naughty girls who dove into misbehaving with their full wits about them. And their mouths open.
Drunk girls gave the worst blow jobs. It was a proven fact.
“Here you go.” After squirting in the cranberry juice, I slid the glass to her. “Seven bucks.”
“Put it on my tab.” She flicked her long hair over her shoulder and turned to go.
“You closed out your tab,” I reminded her. “Last round.”
She paused and frowned at me. “Then why do you still have my credit card?”
“I don’t.” Her platinum express credit card that read Bradley Alexander, presumably belonging to the rich fiancé, had been returned to her at least fifteen minutes earlier. “I gave it back to you.”
“No, you didn’t.” Now she just sounded belligerent. “What are you trying to pull? Are you trying to steal my credit card?”
That pissed me off. “No. I am not trying to steal your credit card. I gave it back to you. Check your purse.”
“I don’t have a purse.”
“Well, it had to appear from somewhere,” I drawled, using my typical charming voice, not wanting her to see that inside I was seething. My whole life people had been accusing me of shit just because I was a Jordan brother and my father was a thief and a career criminal. I resented the fucking hell out of it. “Maybe you pulled it out of your tight little ass.”
Her jaw dropped. She looked outraged. Yet . . . I knew she found me attractive. I had been noticing her giving me signals all night. She gave me sidelong glances. Her eyelashes batted. She licked her lips. I don’t think she even knew she was doing it, but her body language said she was curious about me. About me in her.
She took a huge gulp of her drink then shook her finger at me. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“And you can’t steal that drink,” I said mildly. “Someone has to pay for it, and it’s not going to be me.”
“Put it on my tab,” she said. “God, you’re such a local loser.”
There are a lot of things she could have said that wouldn’t have bothered me. But that . . . that got under my skin. It was an old wound and she had just dashed salt on it with her pretentious stare and cutting words.
She stole the drink, whether she realized it or not. I had to assume she was too drunk to know where her credit card was and I could have let that slide. But once she purposely insulted me, I knew I wasn’t going to do the right thing.
Nope. I wanted to fuck her.
And I was going to make her want to fuck me.
“How about this drink is on me,” I said. “By the way, congratulations on your upcoming marriage. I wish you a very long life of happiness with your groom.”
Bella stopped and turned, a troubled look darting across her face briefly. She was wearing a romper with silky straps and a low V-cut in the front. Her hand fluttered over her exposed skin. “Are you making fun of me?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No. Just thinking your fiancé is one lucky motherfucker that he gets to make love to you every night.”
She looked shocked. And aroused. Her chest was heaving. I could see her nipples through the thin fabric. She saw my eyes drop.
But she didn’t say a word. She just clutched her drink and disappeared into the crowd, walking very fast.
I smiled as I adjusted my now hard cock behind the bar.
I gave it four days before she was willing to fuck me.
About Erin McCarthy
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy first published in 2002 and has since written over sixty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult romance, paranormal, and contemporary romance. Erin is a RITA finalist and an ALA Reluctant Young Reader award recipient, and is both traditionally and indie published.
When she’s not writing she can be found sipping martinis in high heels or eating ice cream in fleece pajamas depending on the day, and herding her animals, kids, and amazing renovation-addicted husband.
Connect with Erin McCarthy
✦ Website http://www.erinmccarthy.net/
✦ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/ErinMcCarthyBooks
✦ Twitter https://twitter.com/authorerin
✦ Instagram https://www.instagram.com/authorerinmccarthy/
✦ Goodreads https://tinyurl.com/yc2xuxbw
✦ Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/erin-mccarthy
Today we have the release day blitz of Everly Lucas’ MAKE IT MUSIC! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy of this fantastic new release today!
Title: MAKE IT MUSIC
Author: Everly Lucas
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About Make It Music:
House parties. Hot jocks. New friends. Typical college experiences, right?
Sleepless nights. Racing thoughts. Slipping grades. Drinking way too much and waking up alone in a strange bed with no memory of how I got there, then bolting before having to face whoever put my drunk ass up for the night… Slightly less typical.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m making a mess of my freshman year, but I can fix my own mistakes. I don’t need anyone swooping in to save me, especially not my overbearing, unfairly gorgeous psych professor.
So what if he manages to make tweed look sexy? So what if I get chills when he says my name? So what if he kisses me like it would kill him not to? None of that stuff matters once I finally remember that his was the strange bed I woke up in the night I blacked out.
Nope. I don’t need him. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting him like crazy…even when crazy is exactly how I feel.
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Unable to move faster than a tranquilized sloth, I make it to class with barely a second to spare. As soon as I step through the door, Professor Ryan looks my way, which is an improvement, but he also appears to be staring daggers at me, which is not.
Lacking the minimum amount of sleep necessary for taming my inner bitch, I fling eye-daggers right back at him. Take that, asshole.
But what does he do? He smiles.
I could’ve handled more contempt, because that would’ve been an appropriate reaction this time. But the fact that he finds my sass amusing just pisses me off even more. If it wouldn’t mean instant expulsion and, in all likelihood, criminal charges, I’d claw his smug face right off.
Grumbling, I head for an empty seat in the back row.
Midway there, the professor announces, “Everybody, stand up.” He waits as the confused, groggy students slowly rise to their feet and glance around at each other. “Now find your desk from Tuesday. That will be your assigned seat for the rest of the semester.”
Crap. Crappity crap crap crap.
Several students groan—myself included—but we all resignedly take our things to our original desks. The front row and I will not be best friends today. Or any day, really.
I try not to sneak anymore peeks at Professor Ryan, but peeking is unavoidable. My traitor eyes are drawn to the man. His eyes appear to be drawn to me, too, as he watches me drop my bag on the floor and plop down in my chair. That infuriating smirk is still in place, so I stick my tongue out at him, apparently unable to control the childish impulses I usually manage to keep in check.
The corners of his lips turn up a few more notches and form a grin of massive, condescending proportions.
Paranoid thoughts creep in again. Was the assigned-seat thing because of me? Did he want me within easy teasing distance, or something? Is he seriously that cruel? My logical brain tells me I’m being ridiculous, but paranoia is rarely ever open to seeing reason. It’s just there, being all unreasonable, and you can’t do shit about it.
Why can’t he go back to ignoring me? I liked that better than all this confusing attention.
While I’m busy convincing myself I’m not at the center of the decisions made by a man I hardly know, he takes attendance. His voice fades, becoming an underwater echo in my tired ears, until he gets to my name. Then it rings loud and clear.
My name on his lips sparks something. Just a flash of the ghost of a memory, the kind that slips further away the more you try to chase it.
“Lacey Hunter,” he says again. “Lacey.”
“I don’t want you, Lacey,” the ghost-memory whispers in my mind.
The room erupts in snickers and under-the-breath laughter, and I cringe when I realize what I said. What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t manage my own mouth?
Professor Ryan freezes. His lips form a tight line, and all color leaves his cheeks. Funny, because I’m pretty sure my cheeks are bright red. But in the time it takes me to blink, his features shift from shock to boredom. “Ms. Hunter, I’m afraid I’m not cool enough to allow my students to call me by my first name. In class, let’s keep it formal, shall we?”
About Everly Lucas:
After years of rooting for couples and falling for heroes created by other authors, Everly decided to create her own. She now has a crowd of characters hanging out in her head, with no intention of kicking them out.
She lives in Philadelphia with her precious laptop, a cat named Bunny, and a kitten who falls down a lot. Her favorite things include Dr. Pepper, sparkly stuff, blissful silence, and singing while doing the dishes.
Everly can be found on Twitter, like, all the time.
Connect with Everly:
Enter Everly’s Giveaway:
Endangered by Desire by Steffie Scott is LIVE!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/2vzFg8Q
FREE with #KindleUnlimited
Four down, one to go.
A man will do just about anything for love—even kill. I’m on the trail of the last man who made life a living hell for my lover, Fina. But first, I want one last reminder of what I’m fighting for. I need to see my woman and my son before I go up against my toughest foe. And probably to my death.
Will is the father of the son I never thought I’d have. The man who brought me a love I never expected to feel, and a passion I can’t—won’t—live without. I’ll do whatever it takes to be sure Will returns to me—even it means tying him to my very soul.
START THE SERIES TODAY!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/2OT4yqs
FREE with #KindleUnlimited
About the Author:
Steffie loves penning stories about hot and delicious men. Her stories are hot, sweet, sexy and contain a whole lot of magic.
Connect with Steffie
Scarlett Trent is a woman who is in control. She’s a successful business owner, a contender for the North East Businesswoman of the Year Award, and a woman of means. She knows who she is, what she wants, and where she’s headed. That is, until one extremely handsome distraction… someone from her past … throws her heart and mind into a tailspin.
Dev Jackson is the embodiment of alpha male. He’s got nothing to prove; it’s there in his smile, his attitude, his swagger. He sees life through a rainbow coloured lens and that’s just fine with Scarlett. Life wasn’t always easy for him. He’s known hardship and experienced bigotry at close hand. The creator of three identities, managing three successful careers, he’s making sure he’ll never return to those days.
When they reconnect, Scarlett shows him how to be simply Dev, and they soon become each other’s favourite pastime.
Together they’re stamping their souls into a relationship that fits. Their obsession with each other grows stronger every day but Dev’s past constantly tests them, especially when the mysterious Demeter won’t leave him alone.
He wants to move on with Scarlett. His past won’t let him.
The people he left in his wake? They can’t let him go. Don’t want to let him go.
And these people? They’ll go to any length to persuade him to stay.
Will his past indiscretions drive a wedge between them or will their undeniable passion keep them together?
She’s my alter ego; a creation of my imagination. I resigned from my job so she can write steamy adult contemporary romance. This means I can hide behind her, and she’s given free rein to set my smutty thoughts free.
Get ready for an epic new adult romance series!
Truth or Dare by Sara Wylde is available now!
“Smart and sexy NA contemporary—like the Goblin King if he starred in a modern day Cruel Intentions. I loved this story!” – USAT Bestselling Author, Virginia Nelson
When the Bane of My Existence™ asks me what I’m looking for in a man and offers to help me get him, I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to hell. But the idea of Barclay Scott in my clutches is too delicious to resist and just like every horror movie ever made, I get into the car with Prince Smarming and let him take me to a house party in the woods where all kinds of fun and games are to be had just off the path. Even silly kissing games like Truth or Dare, where the consequences of the truth are worse than any dare. Truth: I’ve realized it’s not Barclay Scott I want.
Cinder Girl has gotten under my skin, and I’m a Dane. I can’t have feelings. Can’t show weakness. The solution is to get her out of my head and set her up with my bastard brother. He’s exactly what she said she wanted. Only the weekend goes horribly wrong because I can’t stop playing the game, and the truth is, no matter what I want, she’s a vulnerability I can’t afford. Dare: Don’t fall in love.
ADD TO YOUR TBR → http://bit.ly/2uR3ET4
About the Author:
Sara Wylde is the crackfic! contemporary pen name for PNR/UF author Saranna DeWylde. She rather imagines that all the pen names live in the same dorm in her head and frequently have discussions that look and sound something like an episode of Herman’s Head.
Connect with Sara:
Until We Meet Again
Bonus: BDSM Club Scene
Until We Meet Again
Bonus: BDSM Club Scene
Today Cindi Madsen is joining us to share the release day bltiz for COUNTERFEIT BOYFRIEND, her new contemporary romance! Check it out and grab your copy today!
Title: COUNTERFEIT BOYFRIEND
Author: Cindi Madsen
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About Counterfeit Boyfriend:
My twin brother’s talked me into a lot of crazy things, but taking his place on a road trip with his girlfriend so he can party with his friends is a whole new level of insanity. What’s even more insane is I somehow find myself agreeing to it—thanks, alcohol, guilt, and bribery. I’m determined to undo the arrangement, but then I meet Gwen, this sexy redheaded hurricane of energy and brains.
And then she kisses me. Just like that, I’m driving her up the coast, on our way to a wedding with a mess of complications. With each hour and each stop, I’m falling harder and harder for a woman who doesn’t know my actual name.
I’m trying to do the right thing. Or the lesser of the wrong things. All my life I’ve had to clean up my brother’s messes, but for the first time ever, I’ve landed the upper hand in one of our switcheroo schemes. Now I’ve just got to come clean and convince Gwen that I’m the brother she should be with.
Grab Your Copy Today:
Amazon | B&N | iBooks
I peeled back the covers and sheet and helped her into bed. Her red hair splayed out on the pillow, a stark contrast to the white. Man, she was pretty. Considering she’d told the hotel clerk that she was taking advantage of me, she was also slightly delusional.
It stung every time she used my brother’s name. But again, no one to blame but myself. “Yeah?”
“Come cuddle with me. My eyes don’t need to be open for that, and it’ll help me fall asleep. Right now I’m in that weird in-between phase.” Her words came out slurred and sluggish. “Like I can’t fully relax even as the medication is trying to pull me under, so I’m just in limbo. I hate limbo.”
The oxygen drained from my lungs. I didn’t know if I could be as strong as I needed to be if I crawled into that bed.
Her arm swung out, sweeping the air until she made contact with my wrist. I could’ve easily resisted the tug, but I didn’t want to.
“Just a sec,” I said.
“Did you say sex?”
I bit back a groan—she wasn’t going to make this easy. I kicked off my shoes, considered taking off my jeans and then decided that’d only ensure my failure to behave, and climbed in next to her.
Rustling came from her side, and the next thing I knew, she’d thrown her bra and shorts out of the bed, leaving her in only her shirt and… I resisted looking, even though it was all I could think about.
I wasn’t Superman; I was a fucking saint.
My sainthood was tested when she snuggled up to me, resting her head on my shoulder and hooking her leg over both of mine. Having her next to me was the sweetest kind of torture. Her warm breath hit my neck a mere moment before her soft lips.
She was definitely initiating, and I was definitely turned on. But I was also definitely shutting it down. Since I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, especially after that ridiculous comment about being disappointed, I gently shifted, pulling her back against my front. I couldn’t do much about the hard-on. Her ass was right there. A choked noise escaped my mouth as she wiggled against me.
Taking shallow, tempered sips of air, I dragged my fingertips over her arm and back up. Over her shoulder and down her spine.
Her breathing slowed; mine quickened.
Her body relaxed; mine tensed.
She let go and let sleep take her; I clung on to consciousness, soaking in the way she felt in my arms.
Hadn’t I already accepted the fact that I was going to hell for this? Paving my way with every stolen look, kiss, and touch?
I settled my hand on her hip and kissed the back of her head.
If so, let me burn.
Cindi Madsen is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and young adult novels. She sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting, revising, and falling in love with her characters. Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she’d be even crazier. She has way too many shoes, but can always find a reason to buy a pretty new pair, especially if they’re sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music and dancing and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband, three children, and one overly-dramatic tomcat.
You can visit Cindi at: www.cindimadsen.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter to get all the up-to-date information on her books. Follow her on Twitter @cindimadsen.