Category: Blog Tours

Debra Anastasia’s writing is imaginary, dark, comedic, and perfectly sexy.” — Tijan New York Times bestselling author Drowning in Stars, an all-new, heartbreakingly beautiful mature YA romance from Debra Anastasia is out now!

… he walked a tightrope five stories up just to hold my hand.

Gaze: I moved into the building next to Pixie when I was eleven. She blew bubbles through my window. I shot my Nerf gun through hers. We both had secrets, but one of us was fated to get hurt. I wanted it to be me.

Pixie: When I was afraid of the dark, he would shine a light in my window. We shared our popsicles and I taught him how to get a good swing on the playground. I never imagined I’d have to decide who got to live and who didn’t. I chose him –and he could never know.

She walked a tightrope five stories up just to save my life…

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Excerpt

If she was superman she couldn’t have timed it better because the fire alarm went off. I followed the flow out the door, the teachers closing doors and flicking out lights. I didn’t like how Megan and Ashlin snickered with each other.

They gathered near a group of girls that all had their phones out. Their attention was pinned on a door like they were cats ready for a mouse to pop out.

It was cold outside. I stood near my last class, but it was more a loose cluster. When the door finally popped open, the fire alarm was starting to give me a headache.

The spoils of mean laughter made me grit my teeth. I’d been bullied enough to know that that particular noise was always accompanied by someone else’s pain.

Her hair was shorter than when we were kids, but her face was an instant balm to my raw heart.

Pixie.

But I went from calm to confusion. My normally gutsy Pixie looked like she was trapped in her worst nightmare. She hung her head for a few beats of the alarm. Flashes went off. The crew of girls snapping pictures.

Pixie was hugging her body and I realized why with a gasp. She was only in a pair of underwear. She was topless and hugging her breasts as a way to cover herself.

I jumped through the kids in front of me, using their shoulders to hold myself up and swing my long legs through. I flat out sprinted to get to Pixie, peeling off my basketball jacket from my old school as I moved. I covered her from the front, pulling the arms behind her back.

She looked up in my eyes. Her confusion and relief collided.

I slipped my sweat pants off and held them out to her feet. She stuck them in one and at a time and then jumped so I could yank them up the rest of the way.

The world swirled around us, blurry and useless. I used the time to cuddle her to me, holding the jacket closed while she wiggled her arms inside. I leaned over her and snapped up the back.

She was covered.

“Gaze?” She held up her hand, well it was her hand but it was dwarfed by the extra fabric of my long jacket on her. She almost touched my face before squinting. “You can’t be?”

I watched as her soul knew what her brain refused to come to terms with.

“I am. It’s me and I’m back.”

Teachers came into our orbit, asking questions. The snide assholes were there too, but the pictures and video continued, I saw it in my peripheral. I’m sure my boxer briefs were super exciting.

Pixie pushed on my chest. “Are you cold?”

“No.” It was her. I could still smell her strawberry shampoo and tsee the small dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose. They were my own personal constellation that I’ve always wished on a million times.

Meet Debra

Debra creates pretend people in her head and paints them on the giant, beautiful canvas of your imagination. She has a Bachelor of Science degree in political science and writes new adult angst and romantic comedies. She lives in Maryland with her husband and two amazing children.

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“Prepare yourself for some sexy swoons!”—Catherine Cowles

Trust Me, a must read sexy standalone from USA Today bestselling author Grahame Claire is now available!

I’m done with love.

That’s why I’m back in the city I ran away from in the first place.

I swear the decision to stay has nothing to do with my new roommate and everything with what I left behind.

So what if I’m attracted to her?

She’s easy on the eyes. Smart. Driven.

And we’re on the same page when it comes to relationships: We don’t do them.

But our lives have quickly fallen in sync.

Too easily. Too seamlessly.

I’m laying down roots and making plans for a future I can’t see without her in it.

Sometimes I think I can’t live with her . . .

But what if I can’t live without her?

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Excerpt

Holt’s coveralls were filthy. He had a smudge of grease on his cheek. His hair was a wreck, strands of it haphazard in opposing directions. Relief rushed through me even as I stood a little straighter. “You should lock the door.” He kicked it shut and shucked off his leather jacket, tossing it on the back of the sofa. My pulse thrummed a rapid beat with every step he took toward the kitchen. His eyes were locked on mine, but I couldn’t read anything but the heat in them. Fury or desire, I didn’t know. He looked exhausted, that much I could tell. He swiped the glass from my hand and drained half, making a disgusted face when he handed it back to me. “How do you drink that stuff?” He grimaced and went to the fridge, grabbing a beer and twisting the top off. “Like this.” I made a show of putting the glass to my lips, slowly tipping it back until the dark liquid flowed into my mouth. “Delicious,” I said once I’d swallowed. His throat bobbed as he watched me. His eyes slid down my body when I lowered the glass to the counter. “Nice dress.” His gaze lingered at the V where just a hint of cleavage peeked out. I’d worn the red A-line dress for him. To get his attention. Pathetic. “That what people who work at a magazine wear?” He pointed his beer toward me, heat burning a trail where his eyes wandered down my body all the way to my heels. “Only the easy ones.” “I already explained that,” he said with a hint of impatience. “I know what easy means.” He had explained and I loved his nickname, but I was still pissy after he hadn’t come home last night. “Apparently you’re well acquainted with the definition.” He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I lifted one shoulder to my ear. “Nothing.” He set his bottle down and closed the distance between us, though he was careful not to touch his clothes to my dress. “You’d better clarify, Easy. This grease monkey isn’t following.” I barely heard what he said, blindsided when the scent of motor oil wafted into my nostrils. I gripped the rounded edge of the counter and pressed my lower back into it to get away. It was useless. I was dizzy with the combination of sweat, garage, and Holt. “I said nothing.” I lifted my chin, as I pretended not to be affected. There was no way I was asking if he’d been with someone the night before. “And stay out of my room.” “That’s where the only working bathroom is. You knew that when we moved in.” “Sounds like you’ve got a problem then.” I shrugged, and he scowled. “No problem.” His voice held dark promise and unspoken desire. Every inch of me ached for him to touch me, his breath ghosting across my face not anywhere near enough. I clenched my thighs together. That did nothing to stop the throb of heat in my core. “You stink.” I wrinkled my nose and prayed he believed the lie. “Then why’d you just inch closer, Easy?” “I didn’t,” I said indignantly. “Can you back up, please? I have plans.” He flattened his palms on the stone surface on either side of me. “We have plans.” I held my breath to keep from taking any more of that intoxicating scent in, but I had to let it go so I could speak. “We do not.” Holt winked at me, a signature move of the Dixon men. I should have been immune, but I melted. “Sure we do. It’s in our roommate agreement. Friday nights, we hang out.” I shoved at his shoulders. “What are you talking about?” My voice was shaky, far too affected for my liking. “We don’t have a roommate agreement.” “Sure, we do,” he said easily. “Did we or did we not agree to be roommates?” I stared at him a moment. This was a trick question. It was too easy not to be. “Um . . . yes?” He tapped the tip of my nose and grinned. “Exactly. And since we agreed to be roommates, we agreed to Friday nights. I’m picking this week. Pizza. Beer. And The Walking Dead.” “Did you get hit on the head at work today?” “Not that I remember,” he said cheekily. I quirked my mouth to one side. “Inhale toxic fumes?” “Probably.” He flashed his perfect white teeth at me. My gaze dropped to his mouth, and I had to fight desperately to keep from doing something really stupid. Like kiss him the way my lips burned to. “I have plans,” I said weakly. “I know. We just went over them. Pizza. Beer—” I held up my hand. “I got it. I got it.” “Good.” He dipped his head closer to mine, our eyes locked. His were full of the kind of mischief I definitely wanted a part of. He rapped his knuckles on the counter twice, and I jumped, narrowly avoiding head butting him. That grin turned knowing before he backed out of my space. “Wait to change until I’m out of the shower. I need my privacy,” he said over his shoulder as he sauntered toward the bedroom. I sagged against the counter when he disappeared, blindly feeling around for my wine glass. Once in hand, I downed the rest in one long swallow. Sweet Jesus that man put me in a tailspin. He couldn’t get that close again. I’d never survive however long we lived together. I marched down the hall with determined steps. “We need to establish . . .” I lost my train of thought at the sight of him bare-chested, coveralls hanging off his hips. We had to get that bathroom fixed. Stat. “Establish?” He twirled his hand in front of him in a finish that thought gesture. I cleared my throat and dragged my eyes away from those cut abs up to his face. So that wasn’t really a hardship. “Boundaries. We need to establish boundaries.” He shook his index finger at me. “Yes. I told you I needed some privacy, yet you tear in here like the house is on fire.” “You can’t get in my personal space again.” Holt shoved his coveralls off his hips, leaving him only in charcoal gray boxer briefs. “Easy, we live together. You can’t get any more up in each other’s personal space than that.”

About Grahame Claire Grahame Claire is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. A writer. A blogger. United by our love of stories and all things romance. There was definitely some insta-love. Hello? Books involved. A little courting. A lot of writing. The result…Grahame Claire. Soulmates. Unashamed of our multiple book boyfriends. Especially the ones that rooted in our heads and wouldn’t leave us alone. Don’t worry. We’ll share. Pleased to meet you. Want to find out what we’re up to?

Connect with Grahame

Facebook: https://bit.ly/2PvwpPc Twitter: https://bit.ly/31uStPH Goodreads: https://bit.ly/33AE9ro Amazon: https://amzn.to/2XzMFTI Instagram: https://bit.ly/33AEla6 Website: https://www.grahameclaire.com

“Inked in Lies has just nudged its way onto my top readers of 2020 list. This emotional rollercoaster is beautiful, steamy, and utterly breathtaking! Darling has brought her A-game, and delivered a story that packs a whole punch and so much more!”– Dani René, USA Today Bestselling Author

Inked in Lies, an all consuming friends to lovers romance from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Giana Darling, is available now!

He moved in next door. Handsome as sin, older in a way that meant forbidden. He had tattoos on his hands and wickedness tucked in his grin. I was a goner as a girl to a man they called Casanova for a reason. He would never love me, at least not the way I needed him to. I tried to move on. But I couldn’t turn my back on him or The Fallen MC. So when they needed me most, I offered the only thing of value I could use to help them. My body. And when helping them meant putting my life on the line, Nova had to decide just how much he was willing to do to get me out alive.

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Excerpt

It was a heady fuckin’ thing, bein’ someone’s sunshine, their rain, their entire ecosystem. But it was dangerous too. ’Cause I would raze that all to the ground with one wrong move, one of my stupid mistakes. And it would be gone, laid to waste forever. This was better, rippin’ out the weeds of romanticism I’d been so stupid to sow in her heart. The other stuff, with time, would survive. We’d always be family, and eventually, we’d get back to our friendship. Two years hadn’t ruined us, what was a few more in an effort to heal her heart and give her the chance to win someone better? I sat on the edge of the bed, dressed, boots tied, hands in my hair ’cause I couldn’t shake this feelin’ I was bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass for endin’ it even though I knew it was right. “Sneaking out?” she whispered. I looked over my shoulder at her, the sheet clingin’ to the curve of her hip, the flowers I’d inked on her back vivid against her dark skin and the white covers. My fingers twitched to trace them. “Nothin’ about this is easy, Li,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m hurtin’ you if I do, hurtin’ you if I don’t. I’m just tryin’ to find the best option here. You might not believe it, but I’m tryin’ to do what’s best for you.” She blinked up at me, those wide, long lashed eyes that had stared up at me for years, so trustin’ and lovin’ were now shuttered, guarded against me. My heart rattled against the cage of my ribs, strugglin’ to get out. To get to her. “I know you think you aren’t good enough. I know you’ve always had that kernel of doubt about yourself because you were different, and growing up, people told you that made you bad. I know Meredith solidified that for you. But I want you to think it about it like this,” she took a deep breath, and I braced for her words. “You saying your not worthy enough? It’s like me saying the same just because Ignacio is my father, and I have his blood. I choose every day to be better than what he gave me, Nova, even though he’ll always be a part of me. You could make the choice to be better than what you think you are, for me, if you wanted.” She had a way of sayin’ someone’s name like that. The same way she said the names of flower varieties, as if each word itself was a novel, and she was tryin’ to convey a summary of the entire thing in one word. I’d memorized the way she said Nova, as if it was the great novel ever written. As if it was a sacred text she’d studied, runnin’ her hands over the pages until they went cotton smooth with use and lovin’. I wanted to be that for her, to try for her, to love her better every day, but how selfish would it be to keep her in this life of mine? Lou and Z had been separated for months by prison, Cressida had lost her King. Wouldn’t I just be condemning Li to a similar fate somewhere down the line? “You know, Nova, I’ve loved you all my life. Since the day I first saw you across the street stepping out of that minivan, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” She laughed softly, and I thought I’d never heard a laugh so full of grief and mourning. “But for a pretty boy, you have an ugly heart.” “Lila,” I started, but my voice was wrong, strangulated by the cobra of emotion twined around my throat, squeezin’ the life outta me. “Don’t say that. Not you. I’d fuckin’ rip out my own heart to see you safe, to see one fuckin’ smile on your face.” She was so fuckin’ lovely in her despair, tragic in a romantic way like Juliet before her Romeo. Of course, even my Flower Child made heartbreak look pretty. “That’s just it. You could make me smile every day for the rest of my life so easily. All I’ve ever wanted was your love.” “I love you,” I said instantly, but the words fell flat and heavy when they should have soared, hollow and cheap as a children’s toy dropped to the floor. “Not enough,” she declared with a sad kind of triumph as if I’d put her outta her misery in some horrific way. As if she’d just been waitin’ for me to disappoint her all along. “Not enough,” she repeated softly. “Not enough to even try.” I watched her with my heart in my goddamn throat as she got up, naked and glorious as a nymph crossin’ my path, and went to the bathroom. Before she closed the door, she turned to me and said, “I hope you’re gone when I come back. And you should know, this time? I’m not waiting for you.”

About Giana Giana Darling is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and Top 40 Amazon bestselling Canadian romance author who specializes in the taboo and angsty side of love and romance. She currently lives in beautiful British Columbia where she spends time riding on the back of her man’s bike, baking pies, and reading snuggled up with her cat Persephone.

Connect with Giana Website: gianadarling.com Facebook: http://bit.ly/2tKhTKO Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2CFNVsK Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2J5Evtq Amazon: https://amzn.to/2E5LPRW Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2lI2UNn Instagram: http://bit.ly/2eNG8Bp Twitter: http://bit.ly/2uXVF84 Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/b0qnPr

“Deliciously real, modern, hot, and funny.” —New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

Want You to Want Me, a sexy friends-to-lovers contemporary romance from New York Times bestselling author Lorelei James is available now!

Hockey player Gabriella “Gabi” Welk spent her life in pursuit of championships, but she has little to show for it besides dusty trophies and second-place medals. Now her career consists of several part-time jobs to make ends meet. When Gabi gets a chance at her dream job, she swallows her pride and asks her nemesis—smart, sexy and savvy Nolan Lund—for help.

Since being named future CEO of Lund Industries, Nolan has tried hard to overcome his reputation as a fun-loving playboy and ladies’ man. For the first time ever, he’s more focused on the company than his personal life. He spends his free time at the ice rink his brother owns, cheering on his niece at her hockey games…and watching Gabriella Welk, the superstar athlete and assistant coach who gets under his skin in a way he can’t ignore. He’s shocked when Gabi agrees to trade a favor for a favor.

They have little in common besides their mutual mistrust, but between family crises and sibling rivalries, Nolan and Gabi realize they want to be more than just friends—much more.

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Excerpt

“What?” “The first random text you sent me. Christ. That might’ve been the corniest joke I’d ever heard, but I laughed my ass off for like five minutes. I’d had a shit day, I was still at work, feeling alone and pissy, and then your text pinged. For a brief shining moment, I knew someone in the world was thinking about me.” “For real?” she whispered. “Absolutely for real.” I let my lips brush the top of her ear. “I kept it casual and friendly. Biding my time until . . .” “Until what?” “Until I could make it clear to you that I intended to take friendly to a whole new level with us.” Feathering my mouth between her cheekbone and her ear, I murmured, “So tell me, Gabriella, when was I supposed to do that this week? When you came to me in a panic on Monday? When I texted you and asked if you had time for lunch on Tuesday and you turned me down? Or when I stopped by the rink last night and you sent me packing? Or tonight when I stormed into the men’s locker room because I worried you were really hurt?” “You . . .” A shiver rolled through her. “Stop whispering in my ear, goddammit, it’s making it hard to think.” She rolled her shoulder—to get closer or to get away from me? I froze. Waiting. When she stayed put, I had the answer I needed. And looky there, she’d also given me better access to that tempting neck. “Jesus, you smell good.” “It’s just lotion.” “It’s just you,” I half growled. “Have I mentioned that you were fucking magnificent on the ice tonight?” “No . . . Oh god, that feels . . .” She moaned as I planted soft kisses down the front of her throat. “Mmm. I want to do this all night. But I won’t, because you have a big day tomorrow. And I won’t add to your stress of that by keeping on about this, but we both know it’s been building toward this.”I nuzzled the skin below her ear. “Am I wrong?” “No.”

Meet Lorelei James Lorelei James is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of steamy westerns in the Rough Riders series and the Blacktop Cowboys® series, steamy romance in the Mastered series, contemporary romance in the Need You series and Want You series, and the New Adult Rough Riders Legacy series, as well as several stand-alone novels and novellas. Lorelei’s books have been nominated for and won the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award as well as the CAPA Award. Lorelei also writes gritty mysteries under the name Lori Armstrong. Both she and her alter ego live in western South Dakota–yes, by choice–with her husband, and Copper, their crazy corgi who has made their empty nest more interesting.

Connect with Lorelei

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Website: http://www.loreleijames.com

I will always be here for you. There isn’t a world that exists where I’m not gonna be around for you.

When the Time is Right, a funny, sweet and emotional standalone from USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez and M. Mabie is available now!

Fate doesn’t always happen overnight.

Hudson Bradley is the cockiest, most stubborn, hard-headed man I’ve ever known. And for fifteen years, he’s been my brother’s best friend.

But lately, what I’m feeling for him isn’t friendship at all.

Why is my heart racing every time his blue eyes lock on mine? Why does every word he rumbles in my ear make my body come alive? And worst of all, why did I bet him that I could find a woman he and his son would both love?

If I hadn’t given up on love altogether, Hudson would have been perfect for me. After all, he was there the day my world fell apart. He’s spent the last six years piecing me back together.

There are a million reasons why we could never work, but after a single kiss, I can’t remember any of them.

Now that the time is right, I have to make him mine—before I lose him forever.

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Excerpt

I did everything I could to not make eye contact. Actually, my MO for the past week had been no contact period, but that was a little hard to do when the guy you’re dodging knows things about you. Specifically, the lock code on your front door. “You can go home, Hudson. I’m fine.” Out of my periphery, I watched him perch his hands on his hips. “No,” he argued. “Not until we figure this out.” So he had noticed my ghosting. I hoped he wasn’t as good at calling my bluff. “There is no this.” “What about what you said at the—” “Yeah, I must have had a cold or something. Whatever it was, I’m over it.” Lies. Lies. Lies. Hopefully, I’d start believing them. “Over it?” “Yep. Hey, how was your date?” My topic-swapping skills were on point. When he stopped, only an arm’s length away, I finally seized what scrap of pride I had and looked up into his blue eyes. “Are you seeing her again?” He huffed. “Well, that’s kind of up to you.” “Me?” I dropped the spoon into the sink and put the ice cream down so I could cross my arms over my chest. “What do I have to do with it?” His lids fell shut, and he tipped his head at the ceiling, stretched his neck from side to side, and then brought his gaze back to mine. “Kate seems to think that, maybe, I have a thing…for you.” My face flushed hot, and I wondered if maybe I’d fallen down trying to get out of my leather skirt earlier and I was dreaming, passed out on my bedroom floor. The issue with that theory was I could smell him, feel the warmth from his body in front of me, and see his heartbeat thumping in the vein in his neck. This was real, but I still wasn’t sure I could handle it. “Well, that’s just, uh, dumb,” I contended weakly. Shaking my head to rattle myself back to sanity, I asked, “W-why did she say that?” I tried to laugh, but it was as fake as my gusto. “Because, apparently, I talked about you the whole night.” Okay, I was wrong. I’d thought riding in a car with him and seeing him shirtless and watching him play with Jack and seeing how much he loved my family and having him touch me and avoiding him all week had been torture. This moment was a whole new level of torment. “So?” I said childishly. It didn’t matter how I felt or what I wanted. I couldn’t just leap into his arms and expect everything to turn out the way it was supposed to. That’s not how my life worked. “So I need to find out if this, whatever’s been building between us, is something.” Wouldn’t that be nice? Up until that very second, it had all been one-sided. I’d racked my brain all week to understand why I’d felt the crazy things I did about him. “How you gonna do that?” “We’re going to kiss,” he stated very matter-of-factly, and then he closed the distance between our bodies. “We are?” I whispered. My voice had all but left the building. “Unless you stop me right now.” I wanted to. I didn’t want to. I was scared. I was excited. But mostly, I wasn’t stopping him.

About Aly Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her husband and four young children. Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys cheap wine, mystery leggings, and olives. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person. She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a super-sized tumbler of wine by her side.

Connect with Aly Facebook: http://bit.ly/2RvbjCA Twitter: http://bit.ly/2DUCq1Z Amazon: https://amzn.to/2We92eT BookBub: http://bit.ly/2V32S4B GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2UKGUOM Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2DEpPAh Instagram: http://bit.ly/2DUgzrJ Website: https://alymartinez.com/ Stay up to date with Aly by joining her mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2WnkxjS

About M. Mabie M. Mabie lives in Illinois with her husband. She writes everything from steamy romantic comedies to angst-filled, pull your hair out drama. She enjoys it all. With her unconventional love stories, she tries to embody “real-life romance.”

She cares about politics, but will not discuss them in public. She uses the same fork at every meal, watches Wayne’s World while cleaning, and lets her dog sleep on her head. She has always been a writer. In fact, she was born with a pen in her hand, which almost never happens. Almost.

M. Mabie usually doesn’t speak in third-person. She promises.

Connect with M. Mabie Facebook: https://bit.ly/2W3M2Bu Instagram: https://bit.ly/3de6q8K BookBub: https://bit.ly/35wkuaT Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2SBypHu Twitter: https://bit.ly/2W1cr2W Pinterest: https://bit.ly/2xzhmyF Website: https://www.mmabie.com Stay up to date with M. Mabie by joining her mailing list: https://bit.ly/3dkTJcp

When her past collides with my desired future, can I risk everything and dare Masey to stay with me forever?

More Than Dare You, an all-new must-read single dad romance with all the heat from New York Times bestselling author Shayla Black, is available now!

I dared her to spend a hot, no-strings night with me. Now I’m determined to keep her forever.

I’m Trace Weston, recently reformed womanizer. In the blink of an eye, I went from busy bachelor to full-time single dad. My life was already complicated before my sister-in-law asked me to show off my bedroom skills to her bestie, who’s wanting to experience real pleasure now that her one-and-only long-term relationship is over. Gorgeous Masey Garrett isn’t my “usual.” She’s shy, sassy, driven, and incredibly kind. Suddenly I’m falling fast…but she’s only mine for a night.

What’s a former player to do? Change the rules.

Now she’s under my roof night after night, letting me into her body and her life. Her heart? Not so much. She loves my newborn son. Me? I can’t tell. I’m pulling out all the stops to win her over, but she’s not taking me seriously. Other than passion, how can I reach her? Every attempt only pulls me deeper under her spell. Sure, I could drop an L bomb…except that once imploded my heart. But when her past collides with my desired future, can I risk everything and dare Masey to stay with me forever?

Download your copy today!

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Excerpt:

“Let’s just let it happen.”

“I’ve never been good at that.”

Because she’s never had the chance; Thom didn’t make it possible. I have a feeling that she’s tried to fantasize her way into the experience she wanted with her ex—and failed. Her anxiety is an unspoken ache bleeding between us. I feel her wondering… What will she do if I can’t give her what she craves? If she’s not capable of feeling real pleasure and she has to face the fact she’s been blaming her ex all this time?

And underneath her worries lies a yearning I can’t resist. Not for me specifically…but if I do everything right, is there any chance it could be? Is it at all possible she wakes up tomorrow and wants me to stay longer?

What the… Why am I thinking this shit? She’s only here for a couple of weeks while she puts her ex behind her enough to date her new neighbor. Masey and I have nothing beyond tonight. I need to remember that.

But she’s in my head and under my skin. Sure, I’m attracted. But this is…different.

It feels like more.

“I have no doubt you’re better than you think,” I finally say as I cradle her cheek and slowly slide my fingers around her nape, curling the tips along the soft column. “But let me help you. Tonight, tell me everything you think. If something I do feels good, say so. If it doesn’t, I want to hear that, too.”

She licks her lips again, and at the thought of her tongue on my skin, I feel my knees start to buckle. “You do?”

Masey breathes the question like she’s not sure whether to believe me. I do my best to give her a reassuring smile when what I really want is to strip her bare, kiss her breathless, then rake my lips all over her body and focus on the parts that will make her sigh and moan and ultimately scream.

“Yeah.”

“You won’t feel criticized?”

“Positive.”

“All right. I will.”

“Good. Last chance.”

“To back out?” She shakes her head. “No. I-I want this.”

“This?” I know what she’s getting at. I have every intention of being the most accommodating lover she’s ever imagined. But I’m going to be an absolute bastard about one thing: she can’t just want sex. I’ve hardly touched her and I already know that’s not enough for me anymore.

“I want you,” she admits softly, sending my triumph spiking. “It feels incredibly intimate to admit that. I barely know you and I already want you so much I don’t understand…”

My fingers tighten on her nape as I start to lean in. “Same, honey. I want you, too. Now stop talking so I can kiss you.”

She braces herself by clutching my shoulders. Her palms are like ghosts, barely whispering over my shirt. But her fingers dig into me, as if she can’t quite keep her anxiety and her need to herself. “Oh, god.”

“It’s going to be good, Masey. I promise.”

I have no doubt about that.

She stops breathing again. Her eyes slide shut. She tilts her face up to me. Without her heels, she’s a tiny thing. I bend closer, closer, watching her lips softly purse.

My heart chugs. My blood races through my veins, searing muscle and skin. My cock, which has been hard since we met, turns unbearably stony as I inhale her scent. The beach clings to her—salt and wind and something sweet that’s purely her.

What if I’ve been looking at the wrong kind of woman my whole life? What if everything I’ve been seeking is now right in front of me?

About Shayla Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of nearly eighty novels. For over twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.

Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.

Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.

Connect with Shayla

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Breaking News, an emotional romance with lots of sexiness by USA Today bestselling author Ella Frank is available now!

XANDER

Sean Bailey, the older brother of my lifelong best friend, has always been a surly, temperamental pain in my ass. But sometime during the last few weeks, I’ve gone and fallen head over heels for him.

Gruff and charming, charismatic in his own way, I’ve found myself looking past my preconceptions and discovered a whole new side to Detective Dick—a side I could fall in love with.

But life isn’t always easy—it can change course in the blink of an eye. Sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad. I know this because last night I experienced both sides.

I went to Sean for help in guarding my body; what I didn’t expect was for him to steal my heart.

Download your copy today! Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Zk8aYJ Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/breakingnewsef

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Start the Prime Time Series, today, with Inside Affair! Read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited. Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ZFfvlN Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/primetime1

About Ella Frank Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust and is the co-author of the fan-favorite erotic serial, Sex Addict. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy! A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction. Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.

Connect with Ella Facebook: http://bit.ly/2sYAgNc Instagram: http://bit.ly/2tM6vPy Twitter: http://bit.ly/2TbuBOf Stay up to date with Ella by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2FFDzeI Website: https://www.ellafrank.com

He’s finally met his match . . .

Hot and Bothered, an all-new, steamy, must-read contemporary romance from New York Times bestselling author Erika Wilde, is available now!

P.I. Noah Sommers has always wanted Natalie Hastings. When a car accident leaves her with short-term memory loss, he doesn’t hesitate to take her in, along with protecting her when he learns she’s acquired a stalker. The hardest part of living with Natalie is keeping his hands off her until she can remember what happened. Only, he hadn’t counted on this beautiful, sexy woman making his job so difficult.

Natalie’s world has been turned upside down. Her only constant is her gorgeous “fiancé”, Noah. And she wants him . . . constantly. Only, all of a sudden he’s acting noble. But not for long, because Natalie is planning a seduction he won’t be able to resist. Before long, she has Noah right where she wants him. In her bed and her heart.

But what will happen when Natalie discovers that their relationship was all an act?

Originally published as The Ultimate Seduction by Janelle Denison.

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Excerpt:

Noah lightly grasped her elbow and ushered her toward the parking lot, which was located across the street from Murphy’s. “Come on, I’m walking you to your car, and I’m not taking no for an answer so don’t waste your breath arguing.”

Natalie relaxed and smiled, and they walked by the other storefronts along the street to the intersection.

“You know, we could consider this nice, casual stroll to your car a first date,” he suggested, only half joking. He’d take a date with her any way he could get one.

She thrust her hands deep into her jacket pockets and slanted him a sly look. “Ah, so you do have an ulterior motive other than seeing me safely to my car.”

“A very harmless motive, I swear.” He held up his hands and attempted to look innocent. “We could head over to Starbucks and get a coffee and just talk about the weather if you’d like.”

An incredulous burst of laughter escaped her. “The weather? Are you serious?”

He shrugged and winked at her. “I wouldn’t want our first date to be too personal.”

She chewed on her full bottom lip, looking torn, then said, “Noah, I can’t.”

The light at the intersection was red, and Noah pushed the button to give them the right of way, unwilling to give up on her so easily this time. “Not even one coffee? I promise no hand-holding or kissing.”

That made her smile again, but her next words shot down his hopes. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got a big test on Monday I need to study for.”

“We could have a study date,” he suggested. “There are a few things I’m really good at teaching.”

“I’m not going to touch that one,” she murmured huskily. Hearing someone approach from behind, she glanced over her shoulder briefly, then back at Noah. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Something in her expression had changed in those few seconds, and there was now a troubled glint in her eyes that snagged his attention, but he didn’t understand its source. Wanting to soothe her sudden anxiety, he picked up her hand and drew a lazy pattern on her palm with his index finger. “I’d give up if you told me to get lost and meant it.”

She stared at him, then shook her head, sending her soft dark waves brushing across her shoulders. “You’re way too—”

“Irresistible?” He graced her with one of his enticing grins that never failed to score him extra points with the opposite sex.

The light changed to green, the cars on the street stopped, and they stepped off the curb to cross, severing the contact of their joined hands. “I was thinking more along the lines of persistent.”

He laughed. “Hey, I do have a few faults.”

Meet Erika Wilde

Erika Wilde is a New York Times Bestselling author. She is best known for her super sexy Marriage Diaries series and The Players Club series, and has also co-written the Dirty Sexy Series and the Book Boyfriend Series with Carly Phillips, her best friend and writing buddy for the past twenty years. She lives in Oregon with her husband and two daughters, and when she’s not writing you can find her exploring the beautiful Pacific Northwest. For more information on her upcoming releases, please visit her website at http://www.erikawilde.com and sign up for her mailing list for updates and news!

Connect with Erika

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2OLvHe9 Twitter: https://twitter.com/erikawilde1 BookBub: http://bit.ly/2Ply3lh GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2MsZBqj Friend Erika on Facebook: http://bit.ly/2PkVyKZ Visit her author page: http://bit.ly/2vVITpY Join her reader group: http://bit.ly/2OLuIut Stay up to date with Erika by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2OJIsWE https://www.erikawilde.com

In a single day, it all changed, and there’s no way to take it back.

It’s Our Secret, a captivating and unforgettable romantic suspense standalone from Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Willow Winters, is available now!

Allison: It was only a little lie. That’s how stories like these get started.

But with every lie I told, he saw through it. I think in his heart he knew I was broken; he felt my pain as if it was his.

And that’s what changed everything. He’s the reason it all fell apart.

Sometimes it’s a single moment that alters everything in existence.

Sometimes it’s the fall of dominoes, lined up in a pretty little row and designed so that each one will cause more and more pain.

In a single day, it all changed, and there’s no way to take it back.

I didn’t know what would happen. But secrets and lies ruin everything and I should have known better.

And for the first time in… I don’t know how long, I wish I could take it back. I’d take every bit of it back if I could just be with him again.

“I was captivated from the very beginning, and I couldn’t let go until the very end. Winters wove an outstanding tale, which has an even better message within its pages.” – Kendra, Reads and Treats

It’s Our Secret was originally released Jan 2018. This edition is re-edited and extended

Download your copy for only $2.99, release week only! Read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited:

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Excerpt

I like how she’s acting like she doesn’t recognize me. The way she twirls the pen in her brunette curls, looking up at the professor then slipping the tip of that pen between her teeth.

Fucking tease.

Her name’s Allison. I love the way it slips off my tongue.

I didn’t look at her twice the first day we sat in this room. But I noticed when we crossed paths in the building next door, the one with the cafeteria. And I noticed when she started walking away from campus and toward the houses down Connell Street, only two blocks down from Broom Street.

The tiny glances and the subtle way she shifts her thighs each time she sees me … that got my attention even more.

Maybe it’s the curve of her waist or the way her lips are almost always just slightly parted. But something drew me to her and now the idea of her on her knees in front of me as her lips open wider to take the head of my dick is all I can think about.

And then she can treat me to the same sucking she’s doing to that pen right now.

Maybe she’s got my attention because Chem 201 is boring as hell.

Or maybe it’s because Little Miss Allison looks as though she’d be down for a dirty fuck, but she’s avoiding me at all costs.

Like right now. She’s got to know I want her. Maybe she likes the chase.

All she’s doing is skimming that pen across her bottom lip, making my dick twitch with need.

“And you?” the professor asks, his voice directed this way. I’m one row behind and two seats to the left of her.

“I’m sorry?” she questions Professor Grant, caught off guard. My lips curl up into a smile, although I hide it behind my fist as I brace my elbow against the desk. Yeah, I know I’m getting to this broad. Whether she wants to let on that I am or not.

“What’s the constitution of the nucleus of an atom?” he repeats his question, and my brow raises slightly. We’re only five days into the semester and this class meets Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Week one is too fucking early for this shit.

“Electrons and neutrons,” she answers hesitantly.

“Wrong,” the professor’s voice rings out and Allison purses her lips. The pen in her hand taps on the textbook in front of her as the class know-it-all pipes up, not even waiting to be called on.

The answer is protons and neutrons, not that I give a shit. My major’s undecided for now but there’s zero chance of me going into chemistry for a career.

I lean over, feeling the metal bar separating our rows pushing into my ribs.

“Maybe you should pay attention.” I whisper my first words to Allison, and she finally looks at me.

She gives me a side-eye paired with an asymmetric grin and I give her a charming smile back before relaxing into my seat.

After the professor turns his back to us, ranting about something he’s scribbled on the chalkboard, she looks over her shoulder toward me.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she blushes, peeking at me and then once again pretending to pay attention to him and not me.

That only makes me want her more. I know she’s thinking about me. I want to know exactly what she’s daydreaming about. That way I can make it come true.

Meet Willow Winters

Willow Winters is so happy to be a USA Today, Wall Street Journal and #1 Contemporary Best Selling Author!

Willow started writing after having her little girl, Evie, December 2015. All during her pregnancy with Evie she continued to read and she only wanted to read romance. She was reading a book a day — sometimes two.

In January 2016 Willow was staying up late with Evie and just thinking of all these stories. They came to her constantly so she finally sat down and just started writing. She always wanted to do it so she figured, why not? Today Willow cannot be happier for making that decision!

Connect with Willow

W Winters:

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Willow Winters: Amazon: https://amzn.to/2xEJTSP Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2WWGRFollow Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2wwbbub Twitter: http://bit.ly/2wwtwitter Instagram: http://bit.ly/2wwaIG Book+Main: http://bit.ly/2WWBandM Sign up to Willow’s newsletter and receive EXCLUSIVE content, sneak peeks, and FREE books monthly: http://eepurl.com/b98e3D

“There’s a reason Probst is the gold-standard in contemporary romance.” —Lauren Layne, New York Times bestselling author

Begin Again, a second chance romance standalone in the Stay series by New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Probst is available now!

Chloe Lake is finally living her dream. As the daughter of the Governor, she’s consistently in the spotlight, and after being dubbed the Most Eligible Bachelorette of NYC, both her career and personal life has exploded. Fortunately, her work as an advocate for animal welfare requires constant publicity and funding, so she embraces her role and plays for the camera—anything for the sake of her beloved rescues.

But when a big case is on the line, she’s faced with the one obstacle she never counted on: the boy who broke her heart is back, and in order to gain justice, they need to work together.

Chloe swears she can handle it until old feelings resurface, and she’s faced with a heartbreaking choice.

Will this time end differently—or are they destined to be only each other’s first love—instead of forever?

Owen Salt fell hard for Chloe when he was a screwed-up kid in college, and spent the next years changing himself into the man his grandfather believed he was capable of. But when his career led him across the country, he knew he needed to leave the woman he loved behind. He’s never forgotten her, but as the new darling of the press, now, she’s way out of his league. When work brings him back to fight for justice by her side, he swears he can handle it.

But he’s never really gotten over his first love—and he wants one more opportunity to prove he’s a man who’s worthy.

Can Owen convince the woman who holds his heart to take a second chance on forever—or is it too late for them both?

Download your copy today!

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Excerpt

He cut the engine. Leaned in. Her hand drifted up to hesitantly touch his face, smooth and stubble free, his square cut jaw straight, full lips, and cut cheekbones straight from a superhero comic. “You’re very handsome,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “Thank you. But you are a work of art.” He stroked her hair. “And it’s officially our fifth date. Would you invite me up?”

Tension stiffened her muscles. She wasn’t ready to sleep with him yet. There was something sacred about inviting a man into her bed. When she was young and reckless, she’d made a bunch of bad choices, sleeping with bad boys to prove nothing could hurt her, and it only made a bigger mess in her head. Now she accepted her need to go slow and refused to apologize for it. “I don’t think tonight is a good idea,” she said.

He nodded, taking the rejection with his normal ease. “Got it. Then I’ll just have to show you how you make me feel right here.”

He lowered his head and kissed her.

Chloe responded immediately, allowing her mouth to soften under his, her hands gripping his broad shoulders. He smelled of expensive cologne, a musky, ocean scent that should have driven her crazy. He knew what he was doing, expertly applying the perfect amount of pressure, slowly sliding his tongue with subtle precision, allowing her to warm up. Her body responded like a fine-tuned machine and she sank into the kiss, deliberately shutting her mind down to enjoy the moment.

When he finally lifted his head, satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “You are delicious,” he muttered. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Me, too.” She smiled and grabbed her purse. “I better go. Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for saying yes.”

Chloe climbed out of the car and walked to her apartment building. Nodding to Art, the doorman, she took the elevator up to the eighth floor and entered her sacred space. Kicking off her heels, she went straight to her living room, got comfortable, and took out her phone.

He answered on the second ring. “Sweetheart! It’s so good to hear from you. What’s up?”

The sound of her father’s voice was everything good in the world, and she leaned her head back on the sofa, closing her eyes. Funny, for so many years, she hid everything from him, refusing to share any of her feelings. Now she looked forward to their talks, and though she had many close friends who’d be there anytime, she preferred going straight to her father. “Hi, Dad. Am I interrupting?”

“There’s nothing I could be doing where I’d consider you an interruption. You sound funny.”

She laughed but it turned into a half sob. “I had a date. With Drew Dinkle.”

A whistle cut over the phone. “That’s great! I’ve always liked Drew. He’s got his priorities straight—family values, hard work, and charity. If I had a choice to set you up with anyone, I’d pick Drew. How’d it go?”

“Great. He took me to Felice’s.”

“Our favorite place. See, he’s winning already. How long have you been seeing him?”

“This was our fifth date. Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Is it better to be ruled by your heart or your head?”

About Jennifer

Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She holds a masters in English Literature and lives in the beautiful Hudson Valley in upstate New York. Her family keeps her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean. Her passions include horse racing, Scrabble, rescue dogs, Italian food, and wine—not necessarily in that order.

She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, spent 26 weeks on the New York Times. Her work has been translated in over a dozen countries, sold over a million copies, and was dubbed a “romance phenom” by Kirkus Reviews. She is also a proud three-time RITA finalist.

She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at www.jenniferprobst.com.

Connect with Jennifer

Website: https://www.jenniferprobst.com/ Twitter: https://bit.ly/2EmEZgT Facebook:https://bit.ly/2ZYQSlr Goodreads:https://bit.ly/3g5q0WK Instagram:https://bit.ly/3hA0l8M YouTube:https://bit.ly/3jFrU2r Amazon Page:https://amzn.to/2OZvVkc Pinterest:https://bit.ly/39wuKBX Sign up for her mailing list: www.jenniferprobst.com/newsletter for a chance to win a gift card each month and receive exclusive material and giveaways.

For More information about 1001 Dark Nights Visit Facebook: https://bit.ly/37fl0uT Instagram: https://bit.ly/2Y7uBQp Website: https://bit.ly/2AIIr3A Stay up to date on all 1001 Dark Nights releases, join their mailing list today! https://bit.ly/2zgxaHu

Hate was all there was to their relationship. At the very least, that’s what she tried to tell herself.

Hate Thy Neighbor, a sexy and LOL enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy from S.M. Soto, is available now!

Fresh out of a failed engagement, Olivia Hales is in dire need of a fresh start. Tired of being the charming and accommodating girl that always gets stomped on, she’s determined to change her outlook on life.

When she finds her dream job in a small town in California, she thinks she’s finally found her place in life. That is, until she meets her new neighbor.

Roman Banks. Moody. Foul-mouthed. Jerk. And the hottest man on the planet.

At a sprawling six foot five, he was coldly distant and physically intimidating. Not only was her new neighbor a God that was good with his hands, he was also a grade-A jerk. Trapped on the same street, sharing the same space together, they’ve become entrenched in an addictive, ridiculous, never-ending game of insults and pranks that result in the destruction of two perfectly good homes.

The tension between them is as thick as the walls of their houses are thin. Roman’s touch burned like fire even when his words were ice, and both of them will stop at nothing to make the others life hell.

In the midst of the pranks and the hate they harbor for each other, Olivia slowly pulls back the layers of the man next door and finds herself consumed with wanting to fix him and his past. When both enemies start to catch feelings for each other, Olivia finds herself hiding her own secrets, not wanting to lose another man in her life.

Lines are drawn. Strict rules put into place. But that doesn’t stop Olivia from wanting to save the quiet, broody man next door.

They say you’re supposed to love thy neighbor, but that was the furthest emotion she felt when thinking about Roman. Hate was all there was to their relationship. At the very least, that’s what she tried to tell herself.

Hate Thy Neighbor is a full length enemies to lovers standalone.

Download your copy today! Apple Books: https://apple.co/2NRRAdf Amazon: https://amzn.to/310ZAz9 Nook: https://bit.ly/3gevXQH Kobo: https://bit.ly/3gbRj0U Google Play: https://bit.ly/2NMERZr

Excerpt

I hear a soft pop behind me, and when I turn, I find Olivia sitting cross-legged on her couch, watching me closely, with a lollipop hanging out of her mouth. A smirk tips the corners of her lips. “A girl can get used to this.” “To what exactly?” “A hot guy in the middle of her living room, putting back the pieces of her miserable life together.” Closing the distance between us, I stare down at her fixated on the way the stick of the lollipop juts out between those pink bee-stung lips. Gripping the end that’s hanging out of her mouth, I tug, and she lets go with a pop that goes straight to my groin. Taking the lollipop, I put it into my mouth, and her mouth drops open, her eyes heating with desire. “About that bed.” She licks her lips, pushing to her feet. “Oh, that’s right. What was it you mentioned earlier? You’ve been waiting to fuck me there?” Christ in heaven. My cock goes from half-mast to hard as a fucking rock at her words. That mouth will be the death of me. Knowing the effect she’s having on me, Olivia smiles. It’s downright sexy and full of seduction. Tugging my hand in hers, she pulls me along after her, leading the way to her bedroom. With slow, methodical movements, she strips her shirt off over her head, leaving her in a sports bra. I drop down onto my haunches beside her on the bed, resting my hands on her hips. I hear her sharp intake of breath, as I begin tugging her bottoms down her legs. She bares her center for me, and I groan when I get a closer look at her pussy. Back at the garage, everything was fast and hot, but here, I want to take my time with her. “You stole my lollipop,” she whispers, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling on it. “I wanted to taste you.” Her brows dip. “And you thought that was best done with a lollipop?” I hear the amusement in her voice. That’s what makes what I’m about to do next so damn perfect. “I can show you much better than I can tell you, Sunshine.” Taking the lollipop, I drag the sticky ball of sugar down her stomach and pause just over her pubic bone. She gasps, and when I glance up at her, I see the knowing gleam in her eyes. Taking the candy, I swirl it around her clit, enjoying the way she squirms on the bed. The way her hips ride off the sheets and she moans, begging for more. I apply more pressure, swirling through her folds, and then I pause at her entrance. “You like that, Olivia?” “Y-yes,” she pants. As I slide the sucker inside her, she groans, drawing a deep chuckle from my chest. “I thought so.” I fuck her slowly, sliding the lollipop in and out, watching the way her walls grip the candy, the way she glistens and drips. With one last stroke, I pull it out and slide the lollipop over my tongue, tasting her. Her eyes slam shut, and she tosses her head back onto the sheets.

About S.M. Soto S.M. Soto was born and raised in Northern, California where she currently resides with her son. Her love for reading began when she was a young girl, and has only continued to grow into adulthood. S.M. lives for reading books in the romance genre and writing novels with relatable characters. She refers to herself as a bit of a romance junkie. S.M. loves to connect with readers and eat copious of donuts that will surely lead to her demise.

Connect with S.M. Soto Facebook: http://bit.ly/2RQVKEb Instagram: http://bit.ly/2MVdVHe Amazon: https://amzn.to/30GpreQ BookBub: http://bit.ly/2uicH2a Join her Facebook reader group S.M.’s Baddies: http://bit.ly/2NPhQFP Twitter: http://bit.ly/2pmyOlG Stay up to date with S.M Soto by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2oxOi6c Website: https://authorsmsoto.com

Engagement and Espionage, an all-new quirky and swoon-worthy romantic comedy featuring fan favorites Jenn and Cletus Winston from New York Times bestselling author Penny Reid is available now!

Jennifer Sylvester made her deal with the devil . . . and now they’re engaged!

But all is not well in Green Valley. A chicken choker is on the loose, 61 dead birds most “fowl” need plucking, and no time remains for Jennifer and her devilish fiancé. Desperate to find a spare moment together, Jenn and Cletus’s attempts to reconnect are thwarted by one seemingly coincidental disaster after another. It’s not long before Cletus and Jenn see a pattern emerge and the truth becomes clear.

Sabotage!

Will an undercover mission unmask the culprit? Or are these love-birds totally plucked?

‘Engagement and Espionage’ is the first book in the Solving for Pie: Cletus and Jenn Mysteries series, is a full-length cozy mystery, and is a spin-off of Penny Reid’s Winston Brothers series. This novel is best read after ‘Beard Science,’ Winston Brothers #3.

Download your copy today!

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Excerpt:

“Don’t stop.” She reached for my belt again, this time completely undoing it, the button of my pants, and my zipper at world-record speed. Her phone buzzed. Then it chimed. Then it buzzed and chimed two more times. Then it rang again. Reba. Cursing, Jenn pulled the phone from her pocket, once again her face illuminated, murderous rage in her eyes. Her finger moved to the power off button. She blinked, hesitating. Her eyes widened, her body stiffened, and she gasped. “Cletus!” Something about her tone, like she was horrified, and maybe a little afraid, cut through the heavy haze of lust inertia, and my hands stilled. Shaking myself, it took me a few moments to realize she was showing me the phone screen, and another few to bring the content of the text messages into focus. Momma: Jennifer Anne Sylvester, pick up your phone. If you’re with Cletus, I need his help. Please. Momma: ALL THE CHICKENS AND ROOSTERS ARE DEAD! PICK UP YOUR DAMN PHONE! Momma: I’m calling you in a second, pick up the phone. Mr. Badcock’s chickens are dead. All of them. I got here and he’s running around, deranged, yelling about his dead chickens! I called the police and they’re on their way. Please, please, please pick up the phone! At some point, I must’ve taken the phone from Jenn and stepped away, because I glanced up upon reading the messages for the third time, finding the phone in my hand and Jenn fixing her skirt. “This is nuts.” Her big eyes searched mine imploringly. “Who could have done this?” I shook my head, having not yet managed to fully shift head gears—you know, from that head to the one on my neck—and my gaze dropped to the wet patch on the front of her dress just visible in the swath of light. My erection throbbed. So we’re . . . not having sex? “Why? Why would they do it? And WHO?” She snatched her phone back, her tone bewildered, distracted, and distraught. She was distraught because of the dead chickens, like any normal person would be. I was distraught also, but my distress had nothing to do with farm animals. “We have to go.” Jenn grabbed my hand and began walking toward the direction of the hall. Meanwhile, it took me until her hand found the door handle to realize my zipper and belt were still undone. “This is crazy.” She paused as I zipped up, her tone halting and distracted. “Poor Mr. Badcock. And those poor chickens.” A sound of distress escaped her throat. “This is terrible.” It was terrible. And I was going to hell. Because all I could think was, Talk about a cock block.

Meet Penny Reid: Penny Reid is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Winston Brothers, Knitting in the City, Rugby, and Hypothesis series. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.

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Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PennyReidWriter/ Amazon: http://amzn.to/2lakzsD Twitter: @ReidRomance Mailing List: http://pennyreid.ninja/newsletter/ www.pennyreid.ninja

I hate him.

I want him.

He’s a jerk.

A player.

Addicting.

Trouble.

Hate the Player, a slow burn and hilarious romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!

“Roses are red, violets are blue, stay away from Andrew Watson’s *ahem* because no other women ever do.”

That’s quite the way to start a conversation at a casual lunch, huh? Grilled chicken, French fries, and pelvic-fatigue, oh my!

And that’s not even the worst of it.

My friend Raquel didn’t pull any punches when she warned me about my brand-new co-star and his notoriously player-esque ways. Apparently, my most important mission on my first role in a feature film is to stay immune to his charms.

Are you kidding me? Production costs on this movie are in the hundreds of thousands a day, and staying away from a panty-whispering, vajayjay-charmer is supposed to be at the top of my list? Pfft. Puh-lease.

It doesn’t matter that he’s annoyingly attractive, uber rich, crazy famous, and lusted after by ninety percent of the female population; Andrew Watson is trouble with a capital T—especially for a woman like me.

As a preventative measure, I’ve decided to go ahead and hate him.

Don’t worry, you guys, I’m completely in control. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to do something stupid like fall in love with him.

I can hate the player but still secretly love his addictive game.

I’m sure of it.

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Excerpt

Birdie True to my name, I’m about to take fucking flight. At least, I would if I could. In this moment, it really would have been helpful if my trainer hadn’t successfully eliminated all the extra flappy meat on my upper arms. Surely, if I got them going fast enough, the wind beneath those bat wings could have carried me up and through the ceiling of this place. C’mon, you big baby, I coach myself. You can do this. One cavernous breath into my lungs and then another and another, and eventually, just before my vision turns tunneled, I will my feet to move away from the door. Gleaming marble floors, golden statues, and a freaking fountain in the center, the lobby of Capo Brothers Studios is everything I should have expected and more. If everything is bigger in Texas, then everything is most certainly richer in LA. I check in with security quickly, my voice only a little croaky thanks to the frog in my throat, and head for the elevator bank at the far side of the lobby. I’m to head to the fifteenth floor, I’m told, and then go straight down the hall to the glass doors on the left at the end. There, I’ll find William Capo’s office—the head honcho and only surviving brother of Capo Brothers. My cowgirl boots are noisy on the marble floors when I do as instructed. The sound you make when you walk is such a small detail—one I don’t normally think about—but the echo of their clack today makes my heart feel like it’s knocking into my rib cage and each step across the ornate floor is merely a sound effect. Fifteen floors eclipse quickly—clearly, they’ve spared no expense on their elevator—and the hallway that leads to William’s office seems strangely one-directional. Like once I go down it—once I take this step—there will be no going back. Which is probably why, after forcing myself to go the distance to the end, I pause at the open door, the points of my booted toes just shy of crossing the line. “Good morning.” A pretty assistant dressed in a white power suit greets me before I’ve even cleared the threshold of the door, and all thoughts of escape are dashed. Like it or not, I’ve just been shoved over the line. I will my feet to do the same as she continues to speak. “Can I help you?” “I’m Birdie Harris,” I answer and have to swallow hard against the dryness threatening to close my throat. “I have an audition.” My nerves are so obvious, the assistant offers a sympathetic smile. If she were from my childhood hometown in West Virginia, she’d most likely be thinking Bless her heart. She taps something across the keyboard of her iMac and places her hand to the Bluetooth at her ear. “Mr. Capo, I have Birdie Harris here.” Immediately, she looks away from the computer and meets my eyes. “They’ll be ready for you shortly. You can take a seat over there.” She points behind me, back through the door and across the hall to what I’m assuming is a fancy-schmancy waiting room of some sort. I haven’t encountered a place in the building that doesn’t have some sort of gilded or marble inlay, so I highly doubt I’m going to step through that door and into a room styled by the set designer for Saw. Though, I can’t say some sort of torture device wouldn’t be completely misplaced right now. I’m already doing a pretty good job of mentally waterboarding myself with worry. I offer a little nod, keeping my twisted, sicko thoughts to myself. I doubt they’re interested in hiring a woman on the brink of a hysterical episode. The secretary quirks a brow, and I realize, though I’ve nodded my affirmation of understanding, I’ve yet to move. Good God, Birdie! Go sit down. Annoyed with myself, I turn on my boots and march across the hall so violently, it’s like there’s an invisible person helping me along with a heavy hand at the nape of my neck. When I cross into the room, a man is sitting on a swanky leather sofa with his booted feet up on the coffee table. He glances up briefly before returning his eyes to the phone in his lap. Embarrassed, I smooth my clomps instantly. You’re a gazelle, Birdie, not a herd of buffalo, I coach. Move like it. With his attention occupied, I survey him more closely as I move to take a seat across from him. He’s wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and his jawline would make steel beams look weak. Seriously. Confronted with an earthquake, I would seek shelter right under the eave of his jaw. I’d love to get another peek at his eyes just to study the color, but fearing the eye contact that would require, I’m careful not to make any overt noises that might draw his attention again. When he smirks, a devilish proposition-like smile at the screen of his phone, I don’t have to wonder anymore. Oh no. I know exactly who this man is. Andrew Watson. The very man Rocky warned me about and I subsequently Instagram stalked. A laundry list of different women dotted through his timeline, it confirmed everything Rocky told me and then some. All relaxed and cool, he sits on the white leather sofa with one arm outstretched across the back. Confidence and charm ooze from every freaking cell in his body. No doubt, Andrew Watson is more than capable of commanding the attention of everyone in the room, no matter the situation. No wonder he’s one of Hollywood’s most famous actors. The only time I have that kind of quiet confidence is when I’m onstage, singing my songs, lost in the music I created. Just play it cool, Birdie. On a deep breath, I force the uncertainty and unease out of my shoulders and settle my ass into the sofa across from him. He shifts again, crossing one ankle over the other and casually adjusting the denim at his crotch. My eyes are immediately drawn to his bulge, and thanks to Rocky’s colorful descriptions of his favorite appendage, a little penis-shaped soldier is burned in my brain. After a few seconds of imagining the shape of his helmet and intensity of his salute, I jerk my gaze away in a panic. Jesus. As if this audition wasn’t screwing with my head enough! Now I have Saving Ryan’s Privates, a military-themed porno my head just made up starring Staff Sergeant Dick Richardson, complicating things even more! I must make a noise I don’t realize—the sound of my saliva gurgling in my throat while I choke on it, perhaps—because Andrew looks at me with curious eyes. I try like hell to keep my calm and act like I haven’t just gone to mental war with the soldier in his pants, but there’s only so much hysteria containment my mind is capable of. “Uh…hi,” I say, trying so dang hard not to glance back down at his crotch that I start spewing diarrhea of the mouth about goddamn military-themed movies. “I never saw A Few Good Men, but I hear Tom Cruise was good in it.” When I realize what I’ve just said makes absolutely no sense to him—punctuated perfectly by his eyebrows drawing together noticeably—the gurgling saliva turns into a full-blown choke, and suddenly, the only way to breathe is through a hacking cough. Holy shit, I’m too anxious to be around other humans right now! Also, I’m going to kill Rocky for putting this crap in my head about this guy’s penis. “Are you okay?” he asks, and I hold up my hand in some kind of gesture. I’m not sure of its technical name, but its meaning is clear—please forget I exist right now. He asks me once more, but I nod, and once the embarrassing coughing fit passes, I meet his piercingly gray-blue eyes—seeing their color is strikingly unavoidable now—and I offer a halfhearted smile. “Sorry,” I apologize. I didn’t mean to drag him into an impromptu SNL sketch where I choke on spit and say ridiculously inappropriate, off-the-wall things. “I guess you could say I’m a little nervous.” His responding smile gleams so bright, I have to wonder if he has an endorsement deal with Crest toothpaste. His mouth would make a dental hygienist get on their hands and knees and thank the Lord above. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s no need to be nervous around me,” he responds, punctuating his words with a wink. If my mind were a screenplay, the nerves would be exiting stage left. Did he seriously just wink at me after assuming that I’m nervous to be in his presence? Surely, I’m hearing this wrong. No one is that obsessed with themselves…right? “Excuse me?” I ask, and his megawatt smile is still ever-present. “If you’d like me to sign an autograph or take a selfie with you,” he enunciates slowly, as if my being able to understand him clearly was the problem. “I can probably sneak that in before I have to head in there.” His autograph? You have got to be kidding me. He sure is a cocky bastard—and for the first time today, I’m not even talking about his dick. Like the tip of a match being swiped across the edge of a matchbook, aggravation bursts into my veins. “I’m here for an audition,” I assert. Unfazed, he quirks a brow as if to say, my invitation for an autograph still stands. Attractive or not, this guy is one of the biggest asses I’ve ever been around. “I’m Birdie Harris. I’m auditioning for the role of Arizona Lee.” And I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna land this acting gig just to spite this prick.

About Max Monroe

A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far. ​

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The Butterfly Room, an all-new not-to-be-missed sweeping family saga from #1 International bestselling author Lucinda Riley, is available now!

“Lucinda Riley once again has written a masterful saga.”– People Magazine

Full of her trademark mix of unforgettable characters and heart-breaking secrets, The Butterfly Room is a spellbinding, second-chance-at-love story from #1 International bestseller Lucinda Riley.

Posy Montague is approaching her seventieth birthday. Still living in her beautiful family home, Admiral House, set in the glorious Suffolk countryside where she spent her own idyllic childhood catching butterflies with her beloved father, and raised her own children, Posy knows she must make an agonizing decision. Despite the memories the house holds, and the exquisite garden she has spent twenty-five years creating, the house is crumbling around her, and Posy knows the time has come to sell it.

Then a face appears from the past – Freddie, her first love, who abandoned her and left her heartbroken fifty years ago. Already struggling to cope with her son Sam’s inept business dealings, and the sudden reappearance of her younger son Nick after ten years in Australia, Posy is reluctant to trust in Freddie’s renewed affection. And unbeknown to Posy, Freddie – and Admiral House – have a devastating secret to reveal…

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Excerpt

‘Daddy?’ I asked at breakfast the next day, dipping my toast soldiers carefully into my egg. ‘It’s so hot today, can we go to the beach? We haven’t been in such a long time.’

I saw Daddy give Maman a look, but she was reading her letters over her cup of café au lait and didn’t seem to notice. Maman always got lots of letters from France, all written on very thin paper, even thinner than a butterfly wing, which suited Maman, because everything about her was so delicate and slender.

‘Daddy? The beach,’ I prompted.

‘My darling, I’m afraid the beach isn’t suitable for playing at the moment. It’s covered in barbed wire and mines. Do you remember when I explained to you about what happened in Southwold last month?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’ I looked down at my egg and shuddered, remembering how Daisy had carried me to the Anderson shelter (which I’d thought was called that because it was our surname – it had confused me a great deal when Mabel had said her family had an Anderson shelter too, as her surname was Price). It had sounded as if the sky was alive with thunder and lightning, but rather than God sending it, Daddy said it was Hitler. Inside the shelter, we had all huddled close, and Daddy had said we should pretend to be a hedgehog family, and I should curl up like a little hoglet. Maman had got quite cross about him calling me a hoglet, but that’s what I’d pretended to be, burrowed under the earth, with the humans warring above us. Eventually, the terrible sounds had stopped. Daddy had said we could all go back to bed, but I was sad to have to go to my human bed alone, rather than staying all together in our burrow.

The next morning, I had found Daisy crying in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t say what was the matter. The milk cart didn’t come that day, and then Maman had said I wouldn’t be going to school because it wasn’t there any more.

‘But how can it not be there, Maman?’

‘A bomb fell on it, chérie,’ she’d said, blowing out cigarette smoke.

Maman was smoking now too, and I sometimes worried that she would set her letters on fire because she held them so close to her face when she was reading.

‘But what about our beach hut?’ I asked Daddy. I loved our little hut – it was painted a butter yellow, and stood at the very end of the row so if you looked the right way, you could pretend that you were the only people on the beach for miles, but if you turned the other way, you weren’t too far from the nice ice cream man by the pier. Daddy and I always made the most elaborate sandcastles, with turrets and moats, big enough for all the little crabs to live in if they decided to come close enough. Maman never wanted to come to the beach; she said it was ‘too sandy’, which I thought was rather like saying the ocean was too wet.

Meet Lucinda

Lucinda Riley was born in Ireland, and after an early career as an actress in film, theatre and television, wrote her first book aged twenty-four. Her books have been translated into thirty-seven languages and sold twenty million copies worldwide. She is a No.1 Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller.

Lucinda is currently writing The Seven Sisters series, which tells the story of adopted sisters and is based allegorically on the mythology of the famous star constellation. It has become a global phenomenon, with each book in the series being a No.1 bestseller across the world. The series is currently in development with a major Hollywood production company.

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Suggested Social Caption: Braden Carmichael is used to getting what he wants, and he’s determined to get Jocelyn into his bed. On Dublin Street by Samantha Young is on sale for $1.99! Download your copy now! Amazon: https://bit.ly/OnDublinStreetUS Apple: https://bit.ly/OnDublinStreetbook #OnDublinStreet ContemporaryRomance #SamanthaYoung #booksales #valentinepr @valentine_pr_