Blog Tour: ELEANOR & GREY by Brittainy C. Cherry

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Eleanor & Grey, an all-new beautiful and emotional standalone from Brittainy C. Cherry is available now!

Eleanor & Grey FOR WEB

Greyson East left his mark on me.

As the young girl who first fell for him, I didn’t know much about life. I did know about his smiles, though, and his laughs, and the strange way my stomach flipped when he was near.

Life was perfect…until it wasn’t, and when we were forced to go our separate ways, I held on to our memories, let go of my first crush, and wished for the day I’d find him again.

When my wish came true, it was nothing like I imagined.

I couldn’t have known when I took the nanny position that it would be his children I looked after, that my new boss would be that boy I used to know, that boy who was now a man—a cold, lonely, detached man.

The smile and laugh I had loved so much were gone, now distant memories. Every part of him was covered in a fresh pain.

When he realized who I was, he made me promise to do my job and my job only.

He made me promise not to try to get to know him, not to recall the memories I’d treasured all this time.

But, sometimes, I saw the boy I’d once known in his stormy eyes. I saw the Greyson who smiled and laughed, who had stolen a young girl’s heart, and there was no doubt in my mind that this boy was worth fighting for.

I was given a second chance with the one who’d left his mark on me. All I hoped was that somehow I’d leave a mark on his soul, too.

E&G - AN

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt:

Eleanor

Thirty-two years old

Greyson’s assistant, Allison, finished giving me a tour of the house. “Okay, I think that’s everything. I’m going to head out now, but go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Get used to the property. Mr. East knows you’re here today, so don’t feel like you aren’t allowed to wander around a bit. If you need anything, my cell number is on the contact list in the book, or you can email me. If nothing comes up, I hope your first day goes well. Claire will be with you Monday to make sure the transition goes smoothly.” I must have looked terrified because as Allison grabbed her coat and purse to leave, she gave me a light squeeze on the shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, Eleanor. Mind over matter. You got this. Let’s touch base later in the week so I can check in on how things are going.” “Sounds great. Thanks, Allison.” After she left, I took a deep breath and flipped through a few pages in the binder. Then, I did a once-through of the house, familiarizing myself with whose room was where. There was something so unsettling about the quietness of Greyson’s home. It was so dark with an odd gloomy feeling attached to it, haunting almost. I didn’t mean dark as in the lighting situation, rather it was the energy level. There was such a heaviness in the space. The place felt like a house, not a home. If I hadn’t known any better, I wouldn’t have believed a family lived there at all. It felt so abandoned, almost like a memory frozen in time. That might’ve just been my own thoughts, thought, due to knowing about the tragedy that had taken place in the lives of the individuals who lived there. With the number of books I’d read, it wasn’t inaccurate to say my mind wandered toward the dramatics. I walked back into the kitchen, flipping through the binder, completely taken aback by the girls’ schedules. Between school, swim lessons, karate, piano lessons, physical therapy, and grief counseling, I wasn’t sure how they found the time to live a little. “Eleanor.” I leaped out of my skin at the sound of my name and turned to see Greyson standing behind me with an empty glass in his hand. He was dressed in a suit and tie, which was so strange to me. Who wore a suit and tie in their own home? I hardly wore pants when I was home alone. “Oh, Greyson, hi. Sorry I’m still here. Allison was just giving me a tour, and she said it was okay to look around a bit more.” “She made me aware.” Wow. He had responded immediately, unlike the first time I saw him. I called that progress. I smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back, and that felt like the oddest thing in the world. The old Greyson had been full of smiles. “It’s a beautiful home,” I stated, unsure what else to talk about. “It’s massive. I swear, it’s like ten times the size of my place.” He blankly stared my way as I shifted from foot to foot. “I love the décor,” I blurted out, and I hated myself the second the words left my lips. Just walk away, Eleanor. Don’t be awkward. “Those throw pillows in your living room are to die for. Where did you get them?” “The interior designer chose everything,” he replied dryly. “Oh, right, of course. My interior designer is normally the clearance section at T.J. Maxx,” I joked. “Or on special occasions, Target.” He didn’t laugh, probably because I wasn’t funny. I wondered when was the last time he’d laughed. Did he ever find anything funny anymore? We kept staring at one another in the most uncomfortable silence, though I didn’t feel as if I could pull myself away from it. I probably stared at him too long, but how could I not? I’d gone fifteen-some years without looking at him. It was understandable that I wouldn’t be able to turn away quickly. The awkwardness of it all finally came to a halt when Greyson cleared his throat. “Eleanor?” “Yes?” “I came for water.” “Oh?” I stared at him like an idiot, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights, waiting for his next words. I stood still as if he were going to expand on his interest in water. Was he offering me a drink? Were we going to sip water and catch up on things? Was I finally going to be able to ask him how he’d become the CEO of his father’s company at such a young age? What had happened to his father? His stare narrowed, and his lips turned down in a displeased fashion. He nodded once. “Hmm?” I asked. He nodded more aggressively this time, gesturing past me. I glanced behind me and realized I was standing right in front of the refrigerator, blocking the water dispenser. I stepped to the side, mentally beating myself up. Idiot. “Oh, right, of course. Well, I think I’m done here, so I’ll see myself out,” I stated, scrambling to grab my binder. “Have a good afternoon.” He didn’t reply, but that wasn’t shocking. I was quickly learning that this new Greyson didn’t have nearly as much to say as the old one.

About Brittainy:

Author Brittainy C. Cherry is an Amazon #1 bestselling author. She has been in love with words since the day she took her first breath. She graduated from Carroll University with a Bachelors Degree in Theatre Arts and a minor in Creative Writing. Her novels have been published in 18+ countries around the world. Brittainy lives in Brookfield, Wisconsin with her fur babies.

Connect with Brittainy:

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https://bcherrybooks.com

Blog Tour: HOOK SHOT by Kennedy Ryan

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Kennedy Ryan weaves prose like a magician (or voodoo priestess) without sacrificing heat or page-turning angst to create authentic, living, breathing characters you want to root for to the end. Hook Shot is simply beautiful.” — Emma Scott, Bestselling Author

Hook Shot, a deeply emotional standalone set in the worlds of professional basketball and high fashion from Kennedy Ryan, is available now and FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

KRHookShotBookCover5x8_HIGH

Enter the Release Giveaway for a $50 Gift Card +Signed HOOK SHOT Paperback here:

https://www.facebook.com/KennedyRyanAuthor/

Divorced. Single dad. Traded to a losing squad.

Cheated on, betrayed, exposed.

My perfect life blew up in my face and I’m still picking up the pieces.

The last thing I need is her.

A wildflower. A storm. A woman I can’t resist.

Lotus DuPree is a kick to my gut and a wrench in my plans

from the moment our eyes meet.

I promised myself I wouldn’t trust a woman again,

but I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Lo.

She’s not the plan I made, but she’s the risk I have to take.

A warrior. A baller. The one they call Gladiator.

Kenan Ross charged into my life smelling all good, looking even better and snatching my breath from the moment we met.

The last thing I need is him.

I’m working on me. Facing my pain and conquering my demons.

I’ve seen what trusting a man gets you.

Don’t. Have. Time. For. This.

But he just keeps coming for me.

Keeps knocking down my defenses and stealing my excuses

one by one.

He never gives up, and now…I’m not sure I want him to.

Hook Shot - AN.jpg

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2FA9vk6

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HookShot

Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2TBWk7r

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2RQ7p81

Audiobook Alert: http://bit.ly/2UyzQFI

Audiobook Release: April 30th

baller binge hoops 99 cents

Start the HOOPS series with LONG SHOT today for only 99¢!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Wvet8T

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/LongShotKR

BLOCK SHOT: https://amzn.to/2Up5N2N

HOOPS Holiday: http://bit.ly/2RVlcef

EXCERPT

After talking to Kenan for the last few minutes, and looking under his hood, so to speak, I’ve found that he’s a classic. They don’t make them like him anymore, and if I don’t change the subject, change the course of this conversation, I’ll fool myself that we don’t have to keep things simple and that we could be more than just friends, not just for the summer, but for a long time to come. As long as I’d like. “Okay,” I say, switching gears without a clutch and pulling a tie off another of Amanda’s racks. “I think that shirt could work really well with this tie.” He doesn’t look at the tie I’m holding up, but keeps his eyes fastened on me. He’s not playing along. I’ve boxed myself into a corner with him. And the quarters are too tight. His scent. His warmth. His intelligence. His thoughtfulness. He is pressing in on me, overtaking my good intentions in all the ways I never thought a man could. “Try this on,” I say, blindly shoving the mint green shirt at him. When I look at him, he’s already peeled one shirt off and is reaching for the one I chose. I didn’t think this through. Didn’t forecast that Kenan changing from one shirt into another would mean his naked chest. I lose my train of thought and all my chill. Besides my mouth dropping open at the sight of the sculpted terrain of his chest and abs, I give no other indication that he affects me. Taut, bronze skin stretches across his broad shoulders like supple canvas pulled over a frame, the foundation of a masterpiece. He’s a big man. Not bulky, but instead chiseled to the specifications of a master sculptor: arms roped with muscles, biceps like rocks under skin glowing with health. The forearms Chase raved about are lined with veins and sinew. And I die for a great chest. I’ve never seen one more spectacular than Kenan’s. Two words. Male. Nipples. Jesus, my mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting them, sucking them, licking them. And if that pectoral perfection weren’t enough, the two columns of muscles, four each, are stacked over his lean stomach arrowing down to a narrow waist and hips. I can’t look away. I lick my lips, imagining how he would feel under my mouth. How I’d lick around his nipples and drag my tongue down that shallow path bisecting his abdominal muscles. I’d slip that belt off and sink to my knees. Unzip those pants and take him out. God, hold him in my hands and then take him all the way to the back of my throat. I’d choke on him. A man this big . . . I’d be so tight around him. “Lotus,” Kenan says, jarring me from my torso trance. “Should I go ahead and put this shirt on? Or did you need a little more time?” I snap a glance up to his face, embarrassed to find him laughing at me. Oh, God. I’m as bad as Amanda. I turn to leave, but he catches my elbow with a gentle hand and turns me back around, walking us behind two of the racks. He bends until he’s almost eye level with me. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, searching my face intently. “I’m glad you like my body.” “I didn’t say I . . .” My words trail off at his knowing grin. “Okay. So you have a nice body. I work in fashion. Do you have any idea how many great bodies I see on a daily basis?” “I’m sure many,” he says, his smile still firmly in place. “I can’t speak for any of them, only for the way you looked at me.” “And how do you think I looked at you?” I ask defensively, forcing myself not to look away. In the quiet that follows, his smile fades, and heat replaces the humor in his eyes. “You looked at me the way I bet I’ve looked at you every time you walk into a room,” he says, the timbre of his voice rolling over my sensitive skin like a caress. “Like I would eat you if I could. Head to toe, everything in between.” “Kenan,” I protest, closing my eyes on a groan. “We said friends. We said simple. This is not how you start a simple friendship.” His large hand cups my jaw and lifts my chin. I open my eyes, blinking dazedly at him. I wasn’t prepared for how his touch makes me feel. How I instantly crave more of it; want to lean into the warmth; to turn and trace his lifeline with my tongue. Tell him all the things I could discover just from reading his palm and looking into his eyes. How can such a large hand feel so gentle, like it’s capable of treasuring, cherishing? “Okay, Lotus,” he says, regret and reluctance woven around my name. “Simple. Friendship.”

About Kennedy

A Top 25 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy Ryan writes about women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine and Frolic, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Atlanta Autism families, she has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for families living with autism. KR W Bckg Verti

Connect with Kennedy

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Blog Tour: GONE FOR YOU by Jennifer Van Wyk


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Gone For You, an all-new small town, second chance romance from Jennifer Van Wyk, is available now!

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I didn’t expect you.

Certainly wasn’t looking for a relationship.

But, my heart is drawn to you and I can’t stop the way it’s beating, demanding more.

This distance between us should have been enough to stop me.

It wasn’t, though. Not even knowing you’re my brother’s best friend could have stopped me from wanting more with you.

The universe has other plans, though.

You say that you’ll stop at nothing to make me yours.

But, our pasts have a way of sneaking up on us.

I hope I’m strong enough to withstand the hurt. Because my heart… it’s gone for you.

Gone for You is a standalone brother’s best friend, sweet and sizzling romance.

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Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Pre-order the second standalone in the All For You Series, Falling for You today!

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Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/FallingYou

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Excerpt:

It’s getting late and the crowd has shrunk in size considerably, including almost everyone that I saw hanging out with the birthday party. But not Liv. Still, even though the crowd is small, they all cheer when I toss a bottle Rex’s way and he lets it drop almost to the floor before bending at the knees to catch it. He stands back up, swoops his arm in the air, releases his grip on the bottle and snatches it again quickly. Everyone laughs and claps at his theatrics, a few catcalls are hollered from the back area by the pool table. Even though we’ve been at it off and on all night, they still can’t get enough. He winks at a pretty girl with chin-length, straight brown hair and she blushes as he raises the vodka bottle high in the air while he’s pouring the liquor into the glass, topping it off with a splash of cranberry juice and wedge of lime. I don’t even know if she ordered it but he gives it to her anyway and she lifts it to her lips. He leans over the bar, whispering something in her ear. She smiles over the rim of the glass and touches his shoulder flirtatiously. I shake my head, knowing exactly who he’ll be spending his night with. Speaking of… My skin prickles, a tingle runs up and down my spine. I don’t need to scan the crowd to know where she is. I move to the end of the bar where she’s sitting now, talking with a friend while pretending not to watch me. The ‘trio of boobs’, as Liv so eloquently named them, sidles up next to her and orders another round of shots. Of course they’re still here. “Can we get some Slut Juice?” This time it’s a different woman ordering than before. Liv coughs and I look at her out of the corner of my eye. She bites the corner of her bottom lip and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “Comin’ right up,” I tell them, knocking my knuckles on the wood. The girls giggle and I hear Liv mumble something about them already having enough slut juice. I’m glad my back is turned when she says it so no one sees how hard I’m working to keep a straight face. Behind me, I hear the same high-pitched voice from earlier paired with cackling laughter when the girl who first approached me earlier tonight says something about my ass and how she hopes I’m going to cash in on that flaming orgy. “You’re awful,” one of them replies. “What? Like you weren’t thinking it?” “Maybe we can get ‘em both to join us.” I glance at Liv just in time to see her rolling her eyes. Drinks mixed, I fill their shots and push them in their direction. “We’re going to get you to join us sooner or later,” the first one purrs. “Babe?” I hear Liv call out. Scrunching my eyebrows, I look at her to see who she’s talking to. But her focus is on me. One of the girls huffs beside me when Liv reaches out and lays her hand on my hand that’s resting on the bar. “Eth? Did you hear me?” Eth? “Huh?” She looks at the girls and sighs like she’s really put out. “When he’s working, he’s so focused on making his customers happy. It’s one of the things I love most about him. Though, I have to admit, it kind of sucks when you don’t even hear what your girlfriend is saying.” She offers them a sweet smile while trailing a finger over my hand. Liv turns and looks at me adoringly and sighs. Places her chin in the palm of her hand not touching me. “But just look at him. Could you stay upset with that face? Isn’t he gorgeous?” One of the girls starts agreeing while one elbows her in the side. They spin around, hair flying behind them as they stomp away. “You probably just cost me a tip,” I tease. “Oh please. You should be thanking me.” It doesn’t go unnoticed that her long, slender fingers are still resting on my hand. The bright pink polish on her fingernails is a stark contrast against my skin and something about it is so completely sexy. I’m also very aware that I haven’t moved my hand either. In fact, if anything, I’m inching it closer to her. “Thanking you, huh?” “Uh huh. I probably just saved you from about four STD’s.” “From who? The…” “Trio of boobs. Yes. I mean, seriously, who orders slut juice when it’s obvious it’s basically their blood type.” I bark out a laugh and turn my body so I’m fully facing her. I notice her friend beside us is watching our exchange like we’re the most entertaining thing she’s seen all night. She’s looks to be about ready to pull out a bag of popcorn and settle in for a good show. “I’m so grateful that you felt the need to step in, pretend to be my girlfriend so they’d back off. I mean, one can only handle receiving so many orgy invitations in one night.” She lifts a shoulder and I feel her hand flex over mine. “Well, yeah. I’m generous like that.” I lower my voice and inch closer still. “So it was all for my benefit, huh?” Liv rubs her lips together and glances down at our hands that are almost linked together now. “Mm hmm. Your benefit only.” “No other reason to get those girls away from me?” “You did seem awfully uncomfortable and I assumed you were being nice because it’s kind of your job.” I lean on the bar so I’m close enough to say into her ear, “You know what I think?” She shakes her head slightly and I can smell the faint coconut fragrance of her shampoo waft through my senses. I want to thread my fingers through her hair, bury my nose in it, wrap it around my hand while I tip her head back and taste the long column of her neck. I flip my hand over beneath hers and curl a finger so the tip teases the palm of her hand. I’m hoping for a shiver in response and smile when I receive it. “I think you were jealous.”

About Jennifer

From the Ground Up was Jennifer’s first published novel and now that she was bitten by the writing bug, has no intention of ever stopping. Jennifer makes her home in small town Iowa with her high school sweetheart, three beautiful, hilarious and amazing kids, one crazy Jack Russell terrier. This is where her love for all things reading, baking, and cooking happen. Jennifer’s family enjoys camping, boating, and spending time outside as much as possible. You’ll be her best friend if you can make her laugh and follow up with asking her what to read next. When she’s not writing, you can find her cheering the loudest at her kids’ sporting events (read as: embarrassing them), sipping coffee or iced tea out of a mason jar with her Kindle in her lap or binging on Netflix. JenniferVanWykLogo

Connect with Jennifer

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2vZV2Ic

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Blog Tour: HOOK SHOT by Kennedy Ryan

Hook Shot - BT banner.jpg

Kennedy Ryan weaves prose like a magician (or voodoo priestess) without sacrificing heat or page-turning angst to create authentic, living, breathing characters you want to root for to the end. Hook Shot is simply beautiful.” — Emma Scott, Bestselling Author

Hook Shot, a deeply emotional standalone set in the worlds of professional basketball and high fashion from Kennedy Ryan, is available now and FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

KRHookShotBookCover5x8_HIGH

Enter the Release Giveaway for a $50 Gift Card +Signed HOOK SHOT Paperback here:

https://www.facebook.com/KennedyRyanAuthor/

Divorced. Single dad. Traded to a losing squad.

Cheated on, betrayed, exposed.

My perfect life blew up in my face and I’m still picking up the pieces.

The last thing I need is her.

A wildflower. A storm. A woman I can’t resist.

Lotus DuPree is a kick to my gut and a wrench in my plans

from the moment our eyes meet.

I promised myself I wouldn’t trust a woman again,

but I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Lo.

She’s not the plan I made, but she’s the risk I have to take.

A warrior. A baller. The one they call Gladiator.

Kenan Ross charged into my life smelling all good, looking even better and snatching my breath from the moment we met.

The last thing I need is him.

I’m working on me. Facing my pain and conquering my demons.

I’ve seen what trusting a man gets you.

Don’t. Have. Time. For. This.

But he just keeps coming for me.

Keeps knocking down my defenses and stealing my excuses

one by one.

He never gives up, and now…I’m not sure I want him to.

Hook Shot - AN.jpg

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2FA9vk6

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HookShot

Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2TBWk7r

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2RQ7p81

Audiobook Alert: http://bit.ly/2UyzQFI

Audiobook Release: April 30th

baller binge hoops 99 cents

Start the HOOPS series with LONG SHOT today for only 99¢!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Wvet8T

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/LongShotKR

BLOCK SHOT: https://amzn.to/2Up5N2N

HOOPS Holiday: http://bit.ly/2RVlcef

EXCERPT

After talking to Kenan for the last few minutes, and looking under his hood, so to speak, I’ve found that he’s a classic. They don’t make them like him anymore, and if I don’t change the subject, change the course of this conversation, I’ll fool myself that we don’t have to keep things simple and that we could be more than just friends, not just for the summer, but for a long time to come. As long as I’d like. “Okay,” I say, switching gears without a clutch and pulling a tie off another of Amanda’s racks. “I think that shirt could work really well with this tie.” He doesn’t look at the tie I’m holding up, but keeps his eyes fastened on me. He’s not playing along. I’ve boxed myself into a corner with him. And the quarters are too tight. His scent. His warmth. His intelligence. His thoughtfulness. He is pressing in on me, overtaking my good intentions in all the ways I never thought a man could. “Try this on,” I say, blindly shoving the mint green shirt at him. When I look at him, he’s already peeled one shirt off and is reaching for the one I chose. I didn’t think this through. Didn’t forecast that Kenan changing from one shirt into another would mean his naked chest. I lose my train of thought and all my chill. Besides my mouth dropping open at the sight of the sculpted terrain of his chest and abs, I give no other indication that he affects me. Taut, bronze skin stretches across his broad shoulders like supple canvas pulled over a frame, the foundation of a masterpiece. He’s a big man. Not bulky, but instead chiseled to the specifications of a master sculptor: arms roped with muscles, biceps like rocks under skin glowing with health. The forearms Chase raved about are lined with veins and sinew. And I die for a great chest. I’ve never seen one more spectacular than Kenan’s. Two words. Male. Nipples. Jesus, my mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting them, sucking them, licking them. And if that pectoral perfection weren’t enough, the two columns of muscles, four each, are stacked over his lean stomach arrowing down to a narrow waist and hips. I can’t look away. I lick my lips, imagining how he would feel under my mouth. How I’d lick around his nipples and drag my tongue down that shallow path bisecting his abdominal muscles. I’d slip that belt off and sink to my knees. Unzip those pants and take him out. God, hold him in my hands and then take him all the way to the back of my throat. I’d choke on him. A man this big . . . I’d be so tight around him. “Lotus,” Kenan says, jarring me from my torso trance. “Should I go ahead and put this shirt on? Or did you need a little more time?” I snap a glance up to his face, embarrassed to find him laughing at me. Oh, God. I’m as bad as Amanda. I turn to leave, but he catches my elbow with a gentle hand and turns me back around, walking us behind two of the racks. He bends until he’s almost eye level with me. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, searching my face intently. “I’m glad you like my body.” “I didn’t say I . . .” My words trail off at his knowing grin. “Okay. So you have a nice body. I work in fashion. Do you have any idea how many great bodies I see on a daily basis?” “I’m sure many,” he says, his smile still firmly in place. “I can’t speak for any of them, only for the way you looked at me.” “And how do you think I looked at you?” I ask defensively, forcing myself not to look away. In the quiet that follows, his smile fades, and heat replaces the humor in his eyes. “You looked at me the way I bet I’ve looked at you every time you walk into a room,” he says, the timbre of his voice rolling over my sensitive skin like a caress. “Like I would eat you if I could. Head to toe, everything in between.” “Kenan,” I protest, closing my eyes on a groan. “We said friends. We said simple. This is not how you start a simple friendship.” His large hand cups my jaw and lifts my chin. I open my eyes, blinking dazedly at him. I wasn’t prepared for how his touch makes me feel. How I instantly crave more of it; want to lean into the warmth; to turn and trace his lifeline with my tongue. Tell him all the things I could discover just from reading his palm and looking into his eyes. How can such a large hand feel so gentle, like it’s capable of treasuring, cherishing? “Okay, Lotus,” he says, regret and reluctance woven around my name. “Simple. Friendship.”

About Kennedy

A Top 25 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy Ryan writes about women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine and Frolic, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Atlanta Autism families, she has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for families living with autism. KR W Bckg Verti

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Blog Tour: FLAWLESS by J.D. Hawkins

 

Flawless by J.D. Hawkins Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: March 27th Cover Designer: Angelica Maria Quintero Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography Cover Model: Andrew

 

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44170179-flawless

   

AVAILABLE NOW! FREE in Kindle Unlimited! Amazon US: Amazon UK: Amazon CA: Amazon AU:

   

Blurb: A sexy single billionaire businessman. A YouTube star. And the hottest night of their lives.

When I first saw him, I thought he was too hot for his own good and too cocky to resist. The perfect rebound from my break-up from hell. So I threw my usual rules out the door and challenged him to an anonymous hook-up. No names, no strings attached.

It left me aching in more ways than one.

So imagine my surprise when I show up for the first day of my new job to find him leading the company’s annual meeting. We lock eyes through the crowd of employees, all the intensity from our hook-up like a live wire between us. And then he embarrasses me on purpose. Dick.

I just need to keep this job and make it big. I won’t let this arrogant hottie get to me or into my panties. But he is so powerful and sexy, that when he gets me in the elevator alone again, I know my plan is flawed.

 

 

Excerpt: I stand in the back corner of what I’ve realized is not simply a conference room but an auditorium, illuminated by the glow of the Exit sign. My breath catches in my throat, heart pounding like a fist against my rib cage. The man on the stage, the CEO of Omnilife, the Big Boss—Liam Bartock—glances up through the applause for his speech. Somehow, in spite of all the people in that auditorium, our eyes meet, and I take in the same slate gray eyes, the same stubbled jawline, the same swoop of dark hair.

It’s him.

The man from the hotel.

I flash back to the hotel conference room, a warmth growing inside of me, a longing. The memories vivid enough to send tingling waves shooting through my pussy.

 

 

About the Author: JD Hawkins writes erotic romance with modern-classic alpha males and strong, independent women. He currently lives with his wife in Austin, TX. He loves to travel and has lived in many places, including LA, New York City, India and Thailand. When he isn’t writing, JD enjoys surfing, training in Mixed Martial Arts, reading and taking naps. He once dreamed of becoming a ballerina. He’s always loved making up stories, especially ones inspired by real life.

   

   

Connect w/ JD Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jdhawkinsauthor/ Join JD’s Readers Group:https://www.facebook.com/groups/689209171219570/ Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jd-hawkins Amazon: http://amzn.to/2nENib9 Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1481119.J_D_Hawkins Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jd_hawkins_author/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/FuckYeaHawkins Subscribe to JD’s newsletter: https://bit.ly/2PGqXrw

Blog Tour: DANGEROUS BEAUTY by J.T. Geissinger

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A strapping bodyguard and a mysterious beauty on the run cross paths and tempt danger in Cozumel…

Dangerous Beauty, an all-new sexy and suspenseful romance from J.T. Geissinger is available now!

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For Nasir, former Special Ops military man and bodyguard, his new job seems like an easy-money gig: trail a Russian mobster’s runaway wife in Mexico, enjoy the sun, observe, and report. Just one rule: don’t get too close. But it’s all Naz can do not to watch the alluring dancer’s every move. A closer look is irresistible—especially when she’s in trouble.

Evalina escaped to the island getaway to live an untraceable life—as far away from the past as she can get. But Eva can’t ignore the dark, muscled stud who rescues her from a drug gang. He says he’s an ex-cop on vacation. When providence throws them together time and again, Eva thinks it’s all a beautiful coincidence. Now she’s giving in to a strange new sensation: trust.

But Naz has a mission to accomplish and a secret to keep. Eva has her share of secrets, too. And as the heat flares between them, Naz knows that trust could become the most dangerous impulse of all.

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Excerpt:

I turn to look at her. She’s framed in the doorway with the light bright behind her and her face in shadow, her hair a golden corona around her head. A band of tightness settles around my chest. I take a step toward her. She takes a step back. I don’t know what she sees on my face, but her eyes are huge and her pulse is throbbing in the side of her neck. When I take another step and she retreats again, I stop. “Are you afraid of me?” She laughs shakily. “No.” “Then why are you backing up?” “I was hoping I’d be at the wall by now. I need it to hold me up. I’m so excited I think I might faint.” The band around my chest grows tighter. “Stay where you are,” I say, holding her gaze. The eye contact feels like a touch, like an electrical current running on a loop between us. It’s probably close to ninety degrees, but the skin on my arms raises in gooseflesh. As I take another step toward her, she flexes her hands open and draws a breath. She says with quiet wonder, “I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips.” “I know. Me too.” I advance another step. She’s an arm’s length away. I see it when she begins to tremble. “This must be what a stroke feels like,” she whispers as I reach out and touch her face. “Probably not this good.” I slide my hand into her hair, and she bites her lip. When I move closer, she raises her hands and flattens them on my chest. I know she can feel how hard my heart is pounding. Her breathing is as erratic as mine. “Oh God,” she says faintly. “I really hope this kiss you’re about to give me is as amazing as the pre-kiss. I think my panties just went up in flames.” “Not a good idea to talk to me about your panties right now, sweetheart,” I murmur, brushing my lips over her jaw. “I’m barely in control as it is.” I nuzzle my nose into the soft, sweet spot under her earlobe and drag in a breath scented of her skin. She shudders. I cradle her head in my hands as her fingers dig into my chest. I open my mouth over the pulse in her throat and she moans, low and soft, arching into me. That little moan sets my entire body on fire. With one hand cupped around the back of her head and the other around her jaw, I tilt her head back and fit my mouth to hers. Her lips part. Our tongues touching is an electrical shock. She makes a soft, feminine noise in the back of her throat that makes me feel savage, like an animal. We stand in the gloom and kiss, deep and slow, until the urge to push her against the wall, lift her skirt, and thrust deep inside her is a hot, heady pulse in my veins. She slides her arms up around my shoulders so her breasts press against my chest. I feel her nipples, two hard points in a lush expanse of skin, and groan into her mouth. My dick is so hard it’s throbbing. “I want you to kiss me everywhere,” she whispers, breaking away from my mouth but staying in my arms. She’s panting. Her eyes look glazed. “I want you to take off my clothes and kiss me everywhere like that. Promise me you will.” I huff out a breath that’s part laugh and part groan. “So it measured up to the pre-kiss, huh?”

About J.T. Geissinger:

J.T. Geissinger is a bestselling author of emotionally charged romance and women’s fiction. Ranging from funny, feisty rom coms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold more than one million copies and been translated into several languages. She is the recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book, the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and is a two-time finalist for the RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America®. She has also been a finalist in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards. Her first novel was published in 2012. Since then she’s written eighteen more novels. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking wine, surfing the internet, and daydreaming about all the things she’s going to be when she grows up. She lives near the beach in Los Angeles with her husband and deaf/demented rescue kitty, Ginger. Joyce42

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Blog Tour: THE ROOMMATE AGREEMENT by Emma Hart

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Let your homeless best friend stay with you, he said. Being roommates will be fun, he said. It’s only temporary, he said.

He never said I’d fall for him.

The Roommate Agreement, all-new hilarious and romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Emma Hart is available now!

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You know what isn’t ‘temporary?’ The endless stream of dirty socks in my bathroom and empty food packets under the sofa—and don’t even get me started on the hot guys who take over my living room every Sunday to watch sports.

I can’t take anymore.

So I propose a roommate agreement. One that will bring peace and order back to my life, complete with rules that might just stop my newfound crush on my best friend in its tracks.

After all, there’s only so many times you can see your best friend naked before you start to lose your mind.

Rules. They’re meant to be broken… Aren’t they?

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Excerpt:

Shelby shut the door with a click and peered over at me. “What are you writing? If it’s permission to use the feather duster as a sex toy, the answer is no. Unless you buy your own, but if you haven’t figured out where the laundry room is yet, I doubt you’ll find where to buy one.” She was as funny as a car crash, this one. “Hilarious,” I drawled. “No, I’m making amendments as I go. I added a new rule.” “You added a new rule?” She raised one dark eyebrow and walked over, hovering over me. “All right, what is it?” “Decent clothes must be worn. Do you know how many times I wake up early on a morning to open the gym and find you basically in your underwear in the kitchen?” “Basically in my underwear? Who are you seeing in the kitchen? I wear shorts and a tank top at the very least.” “Yes, but the shorts barely cover your ass, and you’re sure as hell not wearing a bra.” She paused, eyes glittering as she said, “And why are you looking at my ass and my boobs?” That was an excellent question. “Because there’s nowhere else to look!” I rushed out before my stupid cock could get any ideas. “Look, waking up in the morning can be challenging for a guy.” She stared at me. “I don’t need to get up for a coffee with… you know.” I motioned to my groin. “And see you half-clothed.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and walked to the kitchen, turning her back to me. “Why does it matter? I’m your best friend. I hardly think your little friend is remotely interested in whether or not I’m wearing a bra.” Yeah, well, he is. “Fine. If I have to wake up and see your perky nipples prancing around the kitchen, I’m going to stroll around in my underwear so you can get a good view of my morning glory.” She spun, lifting up a finger. Her cheeks were flushed, and she had to swallow before she could speak. “My nipples do not prance. They are not horses.” I grinned. “Also, I have no desire to have anything to do with your morning erection, much less get a good view of it, thank you very much.” “Have I told you that you’re cute when you blush?” “Have I told you that you’d be a cute dead guy?” I laughed, leaning back on the sofa. “C’mon, Shelbs. We need to respect each other’s privacy. You don’t want to see my cock hard over your breakfast, and I don’t want to see your nipples standing to attention when I make a coffee.” She sighed. “Why did I ever let you move in again?” “Because I was going to be homeless and you’re the best friend ever?” “Mm.”

About Emma Hart

Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages. She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs. Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud. Yes, really. She’s that sarcastic. EmmaHart.jpg

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Blog Tour: SHATTERED WITH YOU by J. Kenner

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Shattered With You, the first in the all-new Stark Security series of standalones, from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner, is available now!

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With his lethal skills and criminal connections, former British agent Quincy Radcliffe has fast become a key asset at the newly formed Stark Security. But Quincy isn’t the man he appears to be.

When the woman whose body he once worshipped and whose heart he broke pleads for his help, Quincy knows he must either turn his back on her or risk revealing his dark secrets to the one woman who can—and will—tear open his old wounds.

For years, struggling actress Eliza Tucker has tried to forget the decadent weeks she shared with Quincy Radcliffe. His smoldering good looks had drawn her in, while his British charm had enchanted her. But it was the wildness of his seduction and the ferocity of his passion that captured her. She’d given herself to him—and he’d shattered her like glass when he’d walked away.

Now, he’s the only person who can help find her missing sister. She’ll use him because she has to. She’ll pay any sensual price he demands. But she won’t fall for him again.

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Excerpt

“I think it’s time we get you home.” “Yes, please.” My pulse pounded in my throat. Hell, it pounded between my thighs. With each moment that passed, I was more and more turned on. I blamed the wine—it’s definitely my aphrodisiac of choice—but those lovely grapes weren’t entirely responsible for this sweet longing. On the contrary, that was all the man. A man who took my hand and very gingerly helped me down the narrow stairs to the street, where he hailed a cab. “I’ll have to remember you’re a cheap drunk,” he said, his hand sliding down to cup my bottom. I bit my lower lip and leaned into it, then moaned with satisfaction as he nuzzled my neck. “That’s valuable information to store away.” “If that’s the kind of information you want, I’ll tell you anything. Just don’t stop doing that.” “Ah, but I have to. Your chariot awaits.” He stepped around me, leaving me bereft from the sudden lack of contact. He opened the door like a perfect gentleman, then stepped back, as if to close it, rather than sliding in beside me. “Are you getting in on the other side? I can slide over.” “You’re going home alone,”he said, and my entire body went cold from the giant bucket of rejection he’d just dumped all over me. “I—what? Why?” I frowned. “I thought you were buying me breakfast. I thought we were going to—” I closed my mouth because under the circumstances I really wasn’t going there. “You thought I was going home with you. That I was going to kiss you. That I was going to pull you so close your breasts were crushed against me, and your ass was tight in my hands.” “I—Quincy…” I shot a mortified look at the driver, who was sitting like stone, his hands glued to the steering wheel as he looked straight ahead. “Hmm,”Quincy said, then leaned over and handed the driver a ten-pound note. “Sorry to keep you waiting. This should cover the inconvenience.”And then, as if the delay was the only thing odd about this situation, he turned back to me and said, “That would be my very great pleasure, Eliza.” “But. Wait. What?” I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the shock, but he was making no sense. He put a hand on the roof and leaned in. “You’re dangerous, Eliza. You and me, we’re a lot alike.” “That’s bad?” “I told you. It’s dangerous.” “Oh. I see.” I swallowed. And told myself not to cry. I didn’t know him well enough to cry. Which begged the question of why tears were pooling in my eyes. “Well, it was—I mean, I had a nice day. Thank you. It, ah, it was really nice to meet you.” Bastard. His mouth twitched, and for a moment I feared I’d said that out loud. “Is that a brush off?” “What, no. Wait—I thought you were brushing me off.” “Do you want me to?” Again with that tiny smile. “No, and you’re teasing me. What the hell, Quince?”At that, he laughed outright. “Now I know.” “What?” “If you and I spend much time together—and I certainly hope that we will—when you call me Quince it’s because I’m in trouble.” I tilted my head and crossed my arms in a display of irritation. And I was irritated. But I was also hopelessly, giddily relieved. “Fine. You’re in trouble. Don’t scare me like that. You acted like you just wanted to send me on my way.” “I’ll tell you what I want,” he said, bending lower and speaking softer. But not so soft the driver couldn’t hear. “I don’t just want to go home with you. I don’t simply want to fuck you. I want to claim you, Eliza. I want you to surrender completely. To give me your trust entirely.” “I don’t understand. I don’t know what that means.” “I think you do. I want control.” He brushed my lips with the pad of his free hand. “To take you how I want you. In the back of a cab like this. In your bed. Tied down. On your knees. I’ll give you pleasure, Eliza. More than you can imagine or have experienced.” “You can’t know that.” “I can, and I do.” He hesitated a moment, his eyes burning into me. “I can’t promise to save you from whatever darkness is inside you—only you can do that. But there are shadows in your eyes, and I want to be the one to bring back some light.”

About J. Kenner

Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over one hundred novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres. Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit. JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A six time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy) and in 2017 for Wicked Dirty in the same category. Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development as a television show. Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages. In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats. jkenner

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BLOG TOUR THE HARDEST ROUTE by A.S Teague

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The Hardest Route, an all-new emotional and romantic standalone from A.S. Teague is available now!

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My friends used to tell me ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ Clearly, they lied because a few months later, I found out my one-night stand was pregnant.

I couldn’t handle a baby. I was Griffin Rockwell, the best wide receiver the league had ever seen. But what choice did I have? My baby girl was coming whether I was ready for her or not.

Brooke turned out to be an amazing woman and mother. For seven years, we were the MVP’s of co-parenting—and even better friends.

That all changed when tragedy struck our makeshift family and I was faced with the terrifying possibility of losing the one woman I was quickly realizing I couldn’t live without.

I was at the height of my career and on the path to becoming the greatest of all time.

But keeping my family together, with Brooke by my side, might prove to be the hardest route of all.

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Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt:

“I like it when you call me Griffin.” His gaze settled on my mouth, and my heart sped up. I recognized that look in his eyes. It was the exact same look he’d had before he’d kissed me in Vegas. It might have been seven years ago, but when a man looks at your lips like he wants to explore every inch of them without stopping for air, you don’t forget it. Before I had the chance to say something smart in response, he leaned in, his large frame crowding mine. My traitorous eyelids fluttered shut. I willed them to open, but they refused to obey. There was less than a moment’s hesitation, and then his lips were brushing mine. If he’d had any reservations for that split second before our mouths met, they were nowhere to be found now. His hand fisted my hair, his fingertips on my scalp eliciting a moan that came from somewhere deep within me. When his tongue licked at the seam of my lips asking for entrance, there was no question of whether I should let him in or not. They parted, and our mouths moved in rhythm with each other’s, his lips urging and persuading my own to follow suit. And they did. I was lost in the smell of him wrapped around me; the earthy scent that was all Griff combined with the heady feel of his hands in my hair caused every nerve ending in my body to come alive. I moaned again as his hands traveled down my neck, his body pressing close into mine. There were kisses, and then there was this. This wasn’t a kiss, but a total melting of one body into another, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to drown in the way it felt to have this man worshipping my mouth, his hands desperate to touch more of me but content to take what he could get in a hotel lounge. Our night together in Vegas had been electric, full of lust and desire, but this was something different entirely. This was magnetic, like we were being pulled together by some unseen force that we were both powerless to stop. And it was that realization that caused me to pull away and gasp for a breath that I didn’t really want. What I wanted was Griff’s mouth. His lips on mine. On my neck. On my breasts. Every fucking where. I couldn’t pull my eyes open to face the man who was supposed to be just a friend, so I gripped the edge of the bar, my chest heaving as I asked, “What was that?”

About A.S. Teague

A.S. Teague enjoys the warmth of South Carolina with her husband and two daughters. The stereotypes about peach cobbler and sweet tea are not overstated. After years in the medical field, she is now enjoying every minute of being a stay-at-home mom. She loves wine, the beach, wine on the beach, and crying at Disney movies. When she doesn’t have a book in her hand, she can be found pestering her husband with pictures of animals she wants to rescue, as well as debating whether to exercise or take a nap.

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Blog Tour: BITTER RIVAL by J. Sterling

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James Russo is enemy #1.

Hating him is in my blood.

Bitter Rival, an all-new forbidden romance from New York Times bestselling author J. Sterling, is available now!

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Our families have been at war for generations; a bitter rivalry with no end in sight. All I’ve ever wanted to do was make wine, but one night with James will cost me everything.

I shouldn’t be attracted to him… but I am.

I definitely shouldn’t want to sleep with him… but I do.

Is following my heart worth the risk of losing my vineyard and my legacy?

Because in my family, there could be no greater betrayal than sleeping with the enemy.

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Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt:

Burying the hatchet wasn’t an option in my family. Even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, it wasn’t allowed. My dad would disown me completely and make me change my last name before he ever forgave a Russo. Glancing across the competition space, I spotted James, his dark hair framing his two-week-old stubble as he smiled at a group of women, who, instead of working their own wine booths, looked all too willing to leave and take him to bed if he asked. Not that I cared what James did in his bed or with whom, but damn that facial hair. It would be the death of me. I’d spent one too many nights dreaming of the way it would feel as he dived between my thighs or as he kissed me, brushing across my cheek. That man sure knew how to keep his beard in check—always perfectly trimmed, fading just right toward the top where it met his hairline. It annoyed me as much as it turned me on, which was saying a lot since James was the most annoying human in existence.

About J. Sterling

My goal is to write books that you can get lost in and stories that will leave you with a smile and a full heart. If you can forget about the real world while you’re reading and fall in love with my characters, then I’ve done my job. A lot of what I write has real life aspects in it, but that’s what makes the stories so relatable- the fact that they could happen to anyone… and have! I live in California with my son, Blake. If you can’t find me sitting behind a computer screen, then there’s a good chance I’m sitting in the bleachers of a baseball stadium watching him play. I love traveling to new places, meeting my readers and spending time with the love of my life, my very own second chance romance, who inspires me daily. I know you have a million books to choose from and I am humbled, grateful and thankful each time you choose to read one of mine, or tell someone else to read them. Thank you. sexual tension.jpeg

Connect with J. Sterling

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https://www.j-sterling.com

BLOG TOUR: Sweet Fate by Laurelin Paige

Sweet Fate (Dirty Sweet #2) by Laurelin Paige Release Date: March 26, 2019 Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42734204-sweet-fate

 

AVAILABLE NOW! Amazon: laurl.in/sweetfateamz Apple Books: laurl.in/sweetfateapple Kobo: laurl.in/sweetfatekobo Nook: laurl.in/sweetfateBN Google Play: laurl.in/sweetfateGP

 

 

Sweet Liar Amazon: laurl.in/sweetliaramz Amazon International: mybook.to/SweetLiar Apple Books: laurl.in/sweetliarapple Kobo: laurl.in/sweetliarkobo Nook: laurl.in/sweetliarBN Google Play: laurl.in/sweetliarGP

   

Blurb: Dylan Locke knows that pining over the young ingenue Audrey Lind is pointless. He can’t offer her what she wants. He definitely can’t give her what she needs. Thank goodness she’s half a world away, and he doesn’t have to deal with his attraction head on.

But fate has other plans for him, and when Audrey once again lands in his path, it’s only too easy to fall back into their easy rhythm. And then their easy banter. And of course, each other’s arms.

He tells himself nothing has changed. She still wants forever, and he still thinks tomorrow is long enough. But watching her search isn’t as easy as he thought it would be, and now Dylan must figure out if he’s really the love Scrooge he professes to be or if he’s been Fate’s willing victim all along.

   

Excerpt It was a completely different experience kissing Audrey, after I’d accepted the gravity of the feelings I had for her.

I knew the kiss meant nothing, that it would lead nowhere, but it felt like being bathed in radiant light.

Like I was an imprisoned man in a dark prison cell who, for one brief moment, was allowed to step outside into the sunlight. I was completely present for it. Each brush of her lips, each touch of her tongue—I memorized it all, imprinted every second into my brain so that I’d have it forever. I might still have worn shackles with no hope of freedom, but this moment mattered. It was real and divine, and I would cherish every last second of the stolen sunshine until my dying day.

I would’ve been content with only kissing, with just the shallow lifts and falls of her chest and frantic hands trying to caress and cling.

But Audrey had other ideas in mind, demonstrated by the quick work of her hands at my waist, unbuckling my belt, undoing my trousers, the slip of her hand inside the opening to stroke the outline of my very prominent erection.

“This,” she said between kisses. She pulled at the elastic waistband of my boxers and dipped her hand in to touch me directly.

I hissed at the feel of her soft hand against my hot skin.

“I want this,” she begged. “Can I have this?”

   

About the Author: With over 2.4 million books sold worldwide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. Her international success started with her very first series, the Fixed Trilogy, which, alone, has sold over 1 million copies, and earned her the coveted #1 spot on Amazon’s bestseller list in the U.S., U.K., Canada, and Australia, simultaneously. This title also was named in People magazine as one of the top 10 most downloaded books of 2014. She’s also been #1 over all books at the Apple Book Store with more than one title in more than one country. She’s published both independently and with MacMillan’s St. Martin’s Press and Griffin imprints as well as many other publishers around the world including Harper Collins in Germany and Hachette/Little Brown in the U.K. With her edgy, trope-flipped stories of smart women and strong men, she’s managed to secure herself among today’s romance royalty. Paige has a Bachelor’s degree in Musical Theater and a Masters of Business Administration with a Marketing emphasis, and she credits her writing success to what she learned from both programs, though she’s also an avid learner, constantly trying to challenge her mind with new and exciting ideas and concepts. While she loves psychological thrillers and witty philosophical books and entertainment, she is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.

   

Connect with Laurelin Paige: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LaurelinPaige/ Amazon: http://amzn.to/2knJOrx Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7056140.Laurelin_Paige Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/laurelin-paige Twitter: @LaurelinPaige Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thereallaurelinpaige/ Facebook Fan Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/HudsonPierce/ Website: http://www.laurelinpaige.com

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Blog Tour: THE BOYFRIEND EXPERIENCE by Carly Phillips & Erika Wilde

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The Boyfriend Experience, an all-new, sexy standalone from New York Times bestselling authors Carly Phillips and Erika Wilde, is available now!

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He’s the total package.

Except …

Eric Miller isn’t looking for a long term relationship. And he definitely isn’t thrilled when a friend signs him up for The Boyfriend Experience app behind his back. It’s not like he has a problem getting women on his own. But when he gets a notification that someone is in need of his . . . services, he’s intrigued enough to check out her profile and can’t resist the sexy, sassy little brunette who only wants him as a decoy for a family event.

Evie Bennett needs a boyfriend, stat. Someone who can accompany her to her family reunion so she doesn’t have to explain that she’s been recently dumped. Again. She’s perfectly happy being an independent woman, but what’s a girl to do when her new fake boyfriend starts to feel like the real deal?

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Download your copy today!

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Excerpt:

They joined the short line in front of the register, and Eric glanced from the billboard listing all the fancy beverages, to Evie. “What would you like?” “I’ll just take a regular cup of coffee.” “Come on, you can do better than that,” he teased. “You don’t strike me as being that boring.” She raised a brow, a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’ve come to that conclusion in the two minutes of meeting me?” “Am I wrong?” he challenged light-heartedly. “No,” she admitted, a smile tugging at the corner of her very kissable mouth. “I just don’t treat myself to a fancy cup of coffee very often. Normally, I’m too rushed in the morning to indulge myself.” They took another step forward in line. “Lucky for you, it’s my treat and I insist you indulge.” She tipped her head, drawing his gaze to the soft tumble of hair falling over her shoulder and how the ends curled right at the upper swell of her breast. “Shouldn’t I be paying for this, considering the circumstances?” “Absolutely not,” he replied adamantly, forcibly keeping his gaze on her face instead of her chest. “What boyfriend worth his salt would let his girl pay?” “I haven’t hired you yet,” she reminded him cheekily. He grinned. He wasn’t expecting Evie Bennett to be so impudent, and surprise, surprise, he was definitely enjoying their banter, and her. “True. Which means I really need to step up my game and impress you.” And honestly, when was the last time he’d wanted to make such an effort with the opposite sex? The answer to that eluded him, because truthfully, he couldn’t remember being so fascinated and attracted to a woman beyond her physical features. Yet there was no denying that Evie’s feisty disposition drew him in and made him want to learn more about her. Which he needed to do anyways, if she was going to hire him. And make no mistake, they weren’t parting ways until he’d sealed the deal, because she was in the market for a temporary boyfriend, and like his campy bio had promised, he aimed to please. “What can I get for the two of you?” the barista asked, pulling Eric’s thoughts, and attention, to the girl waiting for their order. He glanced at Evie. “Don’t disappoint me,” he said humorously, referencing the boring cup of coffee she’d mentioned. A cute, daring smile flitted across her mouth before she looked back at the barista. “I’ll take a white chocolate mocha with an extra shot of espresso and whipped cream.” Damn. Was it crazy that he was totally turned on by the fact that she hadn’t ordered one of those ridiculous skinny, non-fat, sugar-free lattes that made a mockery of a designer coffee? This was not a girl who’d opt for a salad if she was offered a burger or pizza, and thank God for that. His attraction to her just increased ten-fold.

Meet Carly Phillips

Carly Phillips gives her readers Alphalicious heroes to swoon for and romance to set your heart on fire, and she loves everything about writing romance . She married her college sweetheart and lives in Purchase, NY along with her three crazy dogs: two wheaten terriers and a mutant Havanese, who are featured on her Facebook and Instagram. She has raised two incredible daughters who put up with having a mom as a romance author. Carly is the author of over fifty romances, and is a NY Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestseller. She loves social media and interacting with her readers. Want to keep up with Carly? Sign up for her newsletter and receive TWO FREE books at www.carlyphillips.com.

Connect with Carly

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/carly-phillips

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Stay up to date with Carly by joining her mailing list: http://www.carlyphillips.com/newsletter-sign-up/ Sign up for Text Updates of New Releases: http://tinyurl.com/p3upm5s Join Carly’s Addicts: https://www.facebook.com/groups/CarlysAddicts/ Twitter: www.twitter.com/carlyphillips Website: www.carlyphillips.com

Blog: http://www.carlyphillips.com/blog

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 website at www.erikawilde.com and sign up for her mailing list for updates and news!

Connect with Erika

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https://www.erikawilde.com

CHAPTER REVEAL & PRE-ORDER BLITZ PACKET – Mr. Fantasy by Cambria Hebert




Title: Mr. Fantasy
Author: Cambria Hebert
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 2, 2019



Blurb

Better than your reality…

A Caribbean island.
A rich CEO.
A woman thrown overboard.
A delicious one-night stand.
Want to know what happens next?

Find all the answers and more between the pages
of this sizzling standalone romance—Mr. Fantasy.

Mr. Fantasy is a standalone contemporary romance novel and contains an HEA.







Pre-order Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO / APPLE BOOKS





CHAPTER 1 + 2 of MR. FANTASY

1
Nora
“I can’t believe the week is almost over.” Val groaned, then consoled herself with a large gulp of the fruity cocktail sitting in front of her.
I sighed sadly, silently agreeing with her. Spring break needed to be a lot longer than a week. Pretty soon, it would be back to work, back to classes… back to reality.
Reality sucked.
Especially when I gazed around this tropical resort and realized some people lived like this all the time.
“One week in paradise just isn’t enough,” I said out loud, playing with the pink umbrella perched in the coconut drink I held. Rotating the barstool, I spun to face the turquoise water of the ocean and pure-white sand beneath it.
Grass umbrellas dotted the beach, and under them, people lounged and played. Beyond the beach, people also played in the water, running around in skimpy bikinis and golden tans.
The breeze off the ocean blew through the tangled strands of my blond hair, and sand clung between my toes. Focusing past the shoreline, I gazed across the water, past the floating cabanas, and out to a small island filled with palm trees.
“I’d like to see the guy who owns that island just once while we’re here.” My voice was wistful as I plucked the cherry out of my drink and popped it into my mouth.
Sweet juice from the fruit burst over my tongue as I stared.
Val made a sound and slapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t even tell me that’s the reason you haven’t had a fling yet!” she practically yelled.
Swiftly, I swung in her direction. “Shh! God, Valerie, don’t announce our sex life to the entire resort.”
“At least I have a sex life,” she muttered, fitting her straw into her mouth. “That’s what spring break is for. Letting loose, having fun… no regrets.”
“Hey, I’ve done that, too.”
She made a rude sound. “You’ve turned down three guys since we got here.”
I shrugged and looked back at the ocean. “I’m picky.”
“You have to let him go, Nor,” Valerie said gently. Leaning in, she rested her cheek on my shoulder. “I know you loved him, but Alan wasn’t good enough. And he hurt you.”
Yeah. Yeah, he did.
I sucked on the straw until it made that annoying slurping sound because my alcohol had officially run out.
“Having a fling is the best way to get him out of your system. Let someone rock your world for a night, and forget about him completely.”
I smirked. “You think a one-night stand will erase a guy I dated for nearly a year?”
Val sat up and wagged her eyebrows at me. “The right guy will.”
I laughed, and she snagged the empty coconut out of my hand and held it over her head. “Bartender, another!”
“Now, about that.” My best friend pointed out toward the distant island. “Please tell me you haven’t been holding out to see if Mr. Island shows up to rock your world.”
I scoffed at her assumption.
“I knew it!” she yelled.
People around us turned to look at her.
I smiled at them, “Sorry. She’s a bit extra.”
“You’re still hung up on your cheating, scumbag ex, and now you’re hung up on some faceless guy who might not even exist?” Val dropped her forehead into her hand. “I’ve failed as a best friend.”
I slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You have not.”
A tap on my shoulder made me turn, my eyes colliding with a set of piercing green ones. “Oh,” I said, a little breathless.
“Your drink is ready,” the bartender said, leaning over the bar, holding out my refill.
“Oh!” I glanced down at the drink. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, gorgeous,” he quipped and winked.
I nearly spilled the drink in my lap right there. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he had the bronze tan of a local with an accent to match.
“You need anything else, just wave.”
I nodded, unable to reply.
“See!” Val said, putting her arm around me, bringing me back around. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re gorgeous. You could have any guy here you wanted. Even the bartender. Yet you’re busy mooning over some guy who’s probably old enough to be your grandpa.”
“I am not mooning!” I insisted. Then I grimaced. “And ew… grandpa.”
“You really expect some young, hot single to own that island over there?”
I shook my head. “Not just the island… this entire resort.”
Valerie moaned. “That’s just a sexy rumor the staff here likes to tell women like us. It makes us even more excited about this place.”
“It could be true,” I murmured, staring out to sea. “He really could be some young, rich computer genius who sold off an app and bought this place.”
“Uh-huh. And he has a hot body and the stamina to make you forget all about Awful Alan.”
“Hey,” I accused, salty. “I didn’t judge you when your fantasy was to sleep with a yoga instructor to see if they really were more flexible than other guys.”
Valerie giggled. “They are. They totally are.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Hey, I’m young, single, and being safe. What’s wrong with a little fun?”
I drank some of my cocktail.
“Besides, at least my fantasy was attainable. Yours is practically from the pages of some cheesy romance novel.”
“Whatever.” I sighed. This conversation was bringing down my buzz. “Finish your drink so we can go lay on the beach.”
“Your time is running out.” She reminded me. “We’re going home tomorrow night. If you don’t have a fling soon, you’re never going to get over Alan.”
I’d had enough of this conversation, and if she said my ex-boyfriend’s name one more time, I was going to scream. I jumped down off the barstool and tripped on my flip-flop, stumbling.
“Whoa,” I stammered as I fumbled forward. Seconds later, I collided into the back of a chair, falling over the shoulder of whoever was sitting there and dumping my drink down their chest.
The shoulder under my waist stiffened, and I scrambled to leap back.
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” I exclaimed. Dumbly, I looked down at the drink in my hand. It was empty.
Horrified, I skittered around the chair as the person sitting in it stood, pushing it out from beneath him.
Our bodies collided and I tumbled back, but he caught my arm to keep me from falling. Another apology formed on my lips, but the second I looked up, it dissipated.
He was tall. So tall I had to crane my neck back to look up at him. His shoulders were wide, and his jaw was chiseled. His skin had the same deep bronzed look as all the locals, and his hair was the color of midnight.
I didn’t know if his mouth was just sexy as hell or if the way he pursed his lips as he regarded me made them look pouty, but the effect was still the same.
Everything inside me tightened and then went liquid, as though he’d melted me with just one glance.
My mouth moved, but no sounds came out. I was exceptionally aware of his large hand wrapped around my upper arm. Even though we were sitting in the shade, his hand felt warm like he’d been in the sun. Goose bumps erupted along my bare arms and legs, and my scalp prickled with awareness.
Glancing down to where he held me, I couldn’t help but notice how his hand was so big it wrapped around my arm completely. Involuntarily, I shivered as I thought about what else his hands would completely cover.
Embarrassed, I jerked away from his touch. His hand dropped beside him, and then I realized the entire front of his shirt was completely soaked with my drink.
Gasping, I tossed aside the empty coconut and let my hands hover near him. “This is all my fault,” I exclaimed. “Can I get some napkins over here?” I yelled. “Valerie!”
My best friend, who was standing there just as speechless as I was, burst into action and turned toward the bar.
“I’m so clumsy,” I told the guy. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you a new shirt,” I offered. “And whatever you’re drinking today.”
“No need,” he said. His voice was quiet but so commanding it didn’t need to be loud. “It’s just a shirt.”
Glancing down at the ruined garment, I groaned again. It was blue silk. Probably cost more than I made in an entire week. And because of the material and the fact that it was soaked, it was plastered to his chest as if he’d been caught in the rain.
He was thin… but imposing. Everything about him was.
Val shoved a towel in front of my face, and I snatched it quickly. Rushing forward, I didn’t even think twice about reaching out to try and dry the shirt.
The thin material was saturated, and it seemed no matter how much I patted and wiped, nothing helped.
Above me, a throat cleared. “Are you done?”
I froze, towel still pressed against his shirt, and looked up. His chin tilted down, and our eyes met, pure desire sliding through me.
I jolted back, flushing. “Sorry, I was trying to…” What was I trying to do?
He smiled, reached up, and unbuttoned the shirt to peel it off his body and drop it in the sand. “I’m pretty sure it’s not savable.”
My mouth ran dry. I couldn’t look up from his tan, smooth chest.
A second later, he snapped in front of my face, making me lift my eyes. “You might want to lay off the alcohol the rest of the day. I think you’ve had enough.”
Dumbly, I nodded and held out the towel for him to take.
He glanced between me and the offered towel, then smiled. “I’m good,” he replied, then turned around and walked away.
I stared after him long after he was gone, still holding out the towel like a moron.
Val jumped in front of me, eyes wide. “Oh my God!” she whispered. “That guy was hot!”
The towel fell out of my hands, landing beside his forgotten shirt.
“Hey!” Val yelled toward the bar. “Who was that guy?”
“Never seen him before,” one of the bartenders called back.
“Sucks,” she muttered, then grabbed my hand. “C’mon, let’s go get some vitamin sea.”
“Wait!” I exclaimed, pulling back before she could drag me away. Bending down, I picked up the wet, sandy shirt he’d just discarded from his body.
Val tsked and dragged me toward the beach. “First the island guy, and now this.” She sighed. “You’re completely hopeless, Nora. Hopeless.”
As I stared down at the shirt clutched in my hand, I couldn’t help thinking she might be right.


2
Carter
I sat there listening to quite an amusing conversation going on behind me.
One bad girl and one good… The bad trying to corrupt the good. I guess I could understand the appeal. The good ones were always the best at being bad.
I never got involved in guest affairs, even though all these scantily clad women were ripe for the picking. It was too easy. Too boring.
I liked a challenge.
Like being able to erase a man from the mind of a woman who couldn’t let go.
I wondered if the good girl behind me was as open to that kind of fling as she pretended to be or if she clung to the rumors about a man on an island because she knew he probably didn’t even exist.
Sometimes holding on was easier than letting go because at least the pain of holding on was familiar.
The second her drink spilled over my shoulder and across my chest, I wondered if it was my karma for listening to their conversation or if there was something else here at work.
The sparks between us were practically visible, and the way she shivered beneath my touch excited me. Still, I pulled away, because sometimes being a mystery was better than being real.
I felt her eyes against my back the entire time I walked away. I pondered if I would ever see her again, if I would be able to rise to her challenge.
The way my life had turned out so far was all because of fate. So I decided to leave this up to fate, too.






Author Bio


Cambria Hebert is an award-winning, bestselling novelist of more than forty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of birds (including chickens). You can often find her painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails) or walking her Chihuahuas (the real rulers of the house).

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. She has also written romantic suspense, science fiction, and male/male romance. Her favorite genre to read and write is contemporary romance. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, GearShark Series, Text, Amnesia, and Butterfly.

Recent awards include: Author of the Year, Best Contemporary Series (The Hashtag Series), Best Contemporary Book of the Year, Best Book Trailer of the Year, Best Contemporary Lead, Best Contemporary Book Cover of the Year. In addition, her most recognized title, #Nerd, was listed at Buzzfeed.com as a top fifty summer romance read.

Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.
You can find out more about Cambria and her titles by visiting her website: http://www.cambriahebert.com.
Please sign up for her newsletter to stay in the know about all her cover reveals, releases, and more: http://eepurl.com/bUL5_5.
Text ‘Cambria’ to 7606703130 to sign up for new release alerts


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FLEETING by Carrie Aarons – Blog Tour

Today we are celebrating the release of the newest standalone title by Carrie Aarons. FLEETING just went live, and it is the first book in the Nash Brothers series! Purchase it now or read for FREE as part of Kindle Unlimited, and follow Carrie for exclusive updates about the book.

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Fleeting by Carrie Aarons

Available Now | Nash Brothers, #1

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Book Blurb:

Presley McDaniel lives her life from moment to moment.

Making permanent decisions means obligation, and that would force her to stop being the family disappointment. Waitress, fitness instructor, dog walker … you name the hourly job and she’s probably held the position.

But when her grandmother can no longer run her book shop in Fawn Hill, a town so small it barely has its own zip code, Presley steps up to help.

The move from bustling city to green pastures may be exactly what she needs to sort out her life. But she didn’t ask for that happy ending to include a gorgeous veterinarian with an all-American smile and a penchant for snuggling puppies. The good doctor is reliable, responsible, and just the kind of man Presley has always avoided.

Love and commitment are predictable.

So why, the moment she lays eyes on him, are they all she wants?

Keaton Nash has never questioned his steady path.

His brothers may tease him about settling into his father’s passed-down role of small town veterinarian, but Keaton has never minded his rural roots. And after tragedy struck two years ago, he has a duty as the eldest Nash man to look after his family.

What he doesn’t need is the sexy, flighty stranger who shows up in town and gets his broken heart beating again. Presley McDaniel is a distraction, a red-headed temptation that is the definition of a bad idea.

He’s barely recovered from the love who left him to chase bigger dreams, and this woman is bound to do the same.

Except for the first time ever, he wants to abandon stability.

She makes him want to be reckless.

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What Reviewers Are Saying…

“So what do I need to do to find a quaint little town like Fawn Hill? And some Nash brothers? Because good golly Miss Molly I am in love with everything here!” -The Book Branch

“This book is fabulous…I had a smile on my face for most of it. I read this book in one sitting, it is a pager turner.” -Goodreads Reviewer

“I suggest y’all grab a copy when it releases on March 14th! Scratch that … I’m TELLING you to! Mrs. Aarons has won my heart over with these boys already.” -Goodreads Reviewer

Read it for FREE in Kindle Unlimited

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AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Author of romance novels such as Red Card and Privileged, Carrie Aarons writes books that are just as swoon-worthy as they are sarcastic. A former journalist, she prefers the stories she dreams up, and the yoga pant dress code, much better.

When she isn’t writing, Carrie is busy binging reality TV, having a love/hate relationship with cardio, and trying not to burn dinner. She lives in the suburbs of New Jersey with her husband, daughter and dog.

 

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InkSlinger Blogger Final

Blog Tour: THE GIRL IN THE PAINTING by Max Monroe

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Love is blind, but fate sees everything

The Girl in the Painting, an all-new standalone romance from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is available now!

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Ansel Bray, an artist known around the world for his tragic hiatus from the canvas.

Ansel Bray, a broody, handsome man not known by me, at all.

Long dark hair, blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks. I’ve never met her, but her image is imprinted in my mind. An angel muse who inspires me to paint again.

There is something about him. Something that spurs a need to be as close to him as possible. A need to find out why.

There is something about her. Something that draws me in. Something that urges me to find out what her presence means.

Why does the girl in his painting look so much like me?

Who is this girl, and why can I see her so vividly?

I shouldn’t fall in love with him.

I shouldn’t fall in love at all.

But fate plays her hand.

But fate has other plans.

The lines of my life will blur.

The needs of my heart will change.

What a beautiful mess we’ve made.

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Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt:

Ansel

Three knocks rap against the closed door of my studio, and I sigh. Apparently, my assistant doesn’t understand what no distractions means. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Lucy’s priorities have nothing to do with her role as my assistant. Half the time, people who come to my studio don’t even realize she works here. They probably just assume she’s some sort of social media influencer wasting time in my lobby by taking cleavage shots. Another two knocks ring out, and I ignore whoever is on the other side and focus my gaze back on the half-painted canvas in front of me. As if my hand is on autopilot, I watch as it gently creates the soft lines of her hair. Stroke after stroke, dark brown and honey-beige and gold combine to make the flowing locks that cascade down her back. Eventually, though, the knocks grow so persistent that I can hardly follow the rhythm of the soft background music serving as a medium for my artistic exploration. Fucking Lucy. “Go away!” I call over my shoulder, but the answering chuckle is not an annoyed feminine laugh. No. It’s husky and deep and rough around the edges. “Ans, it’s Nigel,” the disturbance answers back. Nigel Marx. We grew up together on the outskirts of the Bronx and found our way into the art world during our college years. Where I’ve always had an innate ability to create, Nigel has a natural talent for seeking out beauty. If anyone can find art worth seeing, it’s Nigel. Or Nye, as I’ve grown to call him over the years. Even though he’s one of my oldest friends, I groan and contemplate at least ten different ways to tell him to fuck off. I may not be as grumpy as I was before the surgery, but being interrupted during the creative process brings me as close to that level of aggravation as I come these days. But even the bad-tempered side of my personality knows a verbal middle finger is unwarranted. Technically speaking, it’s probably not even his fault. My assistant is undoubtedly too busy posting pictures of her new nose job on Instagram to follow my instructions and man the reception desk in the front. So, eventually, I set my brush down beside my paints, move the canvas into the small, hidden nook near the windows, and tell him to come inside. Dressed in a sharp black suit and tie, Nigel strides in as I head over to the sink to wash the dried paint off my hands. “Did I interrupt?” he asks, and I glance at him over my shoulder. “Yep.” A big, hearty laugh escapes his throat. “You don’t even want to pretend I’m not being a huge inconvenience to you right now?” “Pretty sure you know me better than that,” I say with a grin and swipe the extra moisture off my hands onto my jeans. “I’m not a beat-around-the-bush kind of guy, Nigel.” He grins at that. “What brought about this gloriously annoying visit of yours today?” “Just want to make sure you’re ready for the big opening,” he says and slides his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. I don’t miss the way he takes it upon himself to peruse my studio, his eyes taking in all of the empty canvases stacked in the corner and the finished works scattered along the floor and the walls. “By all means, please feel free to browse. You know how much I love that.” He ignores my jab completely. “So, can I count on you to be there?” “Be where?” “You know where, you bastard.” He glares. “Does January 31st ring a bell? The big exhibition some of us have been working so hard on.” “If I weren’t such a big person, I wouldn’t be able to ignore the fact that you’re insinuating I, the artist, haven’t done any work for the show.” He rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. Stop trying to distract me.” Now it’s my turn to make a show of my new eyes’ ability to move. “We’ve already been through this, man. There’s no reason for me to be there.” Unconvinced, Nye presses on. “It’s your opening, Ans. You need to be there.” “I don’t need to be anywhere.” “Tell me this…why wouldn’t you want to be there? This is your first exhibition in five years. Since before the accident. This is huge. If anything, you should be there to celebrate that you’re painting again. That you’re alive.” And just like that, he’s answered his own question. He just doesn’t know it. Circuslike fanfare and a giant spotlight on my tragic past are the last things I want. I just want to paint without all of the fucking hoopla. “How about this? I’ll drink a glass of whiskey tonight to celebrate. I’ll even give myself a special toast.” “If you drink that glass of whiskey inside my gallery, on the night of your opening, then we have a deal.” It’s my turn to laugh. “Not happening.” “The press will be there. Your fans will be there. People want to see you. They want to talk to you. Interview you. Why don’t you want to be there?” “For those exact fucking reasons, Nye,” I answer honestly. “While I’m thankful people still want to see my art, I don’t need the ego trip that comes with gallery openings and interviews. I don’t need fans kissing my ass, and I sure as fuck don’t need rich investors schmoozing me up because it makes them think they’ll have a better shot at getting their greedy hands on one of my paintings.” Silence stretches between us, and I hope that means Nigel has finally come to terms with the reality of my absence at the opening. Before the accident, I would’ve been there in a heartbeat. I would’ve been the guy with the big fucking ego and some random, superficially beautiful model attached to my arm. The douchebag looking at everyone inside that gallery and mentally giving myself a pat on the back. But I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been that guy since the day I went blind. Do I claim to be the world’s happiest, most-together guy? Fuck no. Like I said, on my best day, I’m still an asshole. But after living in the dark for what felt like an eternity, I’ve at least realized a few things. For one, money, success—material shit—doesn’t mean a fucking thing. You can’t buy happiness. And, two? Friends are better to have than fans. Friends stick with you no matter what. “Okay.” Nigel’s voice breaks our silence. “Fine. I won’t ask you again.” I grin. “That sounds like a truly brilliant idea.” “Why haven’t I seen this one?” I follow his gaze to the far corner of my studio, and instantly, I know which painting he’s talking about. My chest tightens with unease. I can’t believe I left that one out in the open like this… I run a hand through my hair and try to make myself sound at least somewhat disinterested. “Because it wasn’t a painting I wanted to put in the exhibition.” My voice sounds slightly higher pitched, even to my own ears. Dammit. About a year after my transplant, Dr. Smith cleared me to go back to my normal life—back to painting. I found myself inside this studio with a brush in my hand and a beautiful girl in my mind. Crystal-blue eyes, dark, dimensional hair, and dimpled cheeks, every detail of her face and features vivid to the point of precision. I couldn’t stop picturing her. The way her full lips appear when they’re curled into a smile. The way she looks mid-laugh. The way her eyes light up beneath the sun. She was all I could see, this girl I’ve never met before, this girl I’ve never actually seen. She was the first thing I painted after the transplant, and she’s been locked inside my mind ever since—for nearly three years, to be exact. But who’s counting, right? I nearly snort out loud. The truth is, my obsession is nearly pathetic and almost certainly unhealthy. But I can’t seem to stop myself. “This is…stunning,” he says quietly as his eyes rake over the canvas. “She’s stunning.” His words, while holding no harm or ill will, make me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Like I need to shield her from his eyes. I feel too vulnerable. Too raw. Nigel turns to meet my eyes. “Why didn’t you want to put this one in the exhibition?” “I don’t know.” Because it’s too special to me. He looks at the painting for a long moment before moving his eyes back to mine. “Should I know who she is?” “No.” A figment of my imagination? Some kind of angel muse? I don’t know, but I can’t stop painting her. “Is this the only one of her?” “Yes,” I flat out lie. Besides the one he’s looking at, there are another four finished canvases hidden away and at least seven in progress. But I’m already pissed enough at myself for leaving this one out for him to see. Strange and most likely fucking insane, I know, but it’s the reality. “You need to add this one to the exhibition.” I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Your other works are amazing, but this,it’s something else, Ans,” he says and glances back at the painting. “It belongs in the exhibition.” Silence stretches between us, and I’m torn about what to say. Fuck no seems inappropriately callous, but I’m having a hell of a time coming up with any other words. The artist inside of me agrees with his assessment. That painting—and the other paintings of her—is special. She draws the viewer in just as she’s done with me, like a mermaid luring sailors to their deaths. But everything else inside me wants to keep her to myself. “Ans, people need to see this painting,” Nye urges. I let out a deep exhale. “I don’t know…” “Ans, this one has to be in the show.” His gaze is steady, unwavering. “You and I both know it would be a fucking travesty if it weren’t in there.” My back tenses, but for some reason, the word “Okay” slips from my lips. My stomach churns and my mind races and I don’t know why I’m agreeing, but I am. I don’t know why I feel sick over the prospect of other people seeing this painting, but I do. The way I’m feeling, the way my emotions intertwine with her paintings, is a complete mystery to me. Just like her.

About Max Monroe:

A secret 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. ​

Connect with Max Monroe:

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