Chapter Reveal: MAKING UP by Helena Hunting

Making Up, an all-new laugh-out-loud romantic comedy standalone from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is coming July 16th and we have a sneak peek!

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Cosy Felton is great at her job—she knows just how to handle the awkwardness that comes with working at an adult toy store. So when the hottest guy she’s ever seen walks into the shop looking completely overwhelmed, she’s more than happy to turn on the charm and help him purchase all of the items on his list.

Griffin Mills is using his business trip in Las Vegas as a chance to escape the broken pieces of his life in New York City. The last thing he wants is to be put in charge of buying gag gifts for his friend’s bachelor party. Despite being totally out of his element, and mortified by the whole experience, Griffin is pleasantly surprised when he finds himself attracted to the sales girl that helped him.

As skeptical as Cosy may be of Griffin’s motivations, there’s something about him that intrigues her. But sometimes what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas and when real life gets in the way, all bets are off. Filled with hilariously awkward situations and enough sexual chemistry to power Sin City, Making Up is the next standalone in the Shacking Up world.

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Excerpt from Chapter One

Sexy Suit

Cosy

Working in an adult toy store is the opposite of glamorous. Sure, I get a fifty-percent discount, which is a real perk, but it doesn’t offset some of the weirdness I have to deal with. Such as Eugene, one of the locals who frequents the shop on a regular basis. He came in this morning and handled all the display toys. He’s mostly harmless, but the silicone fondling is pretty high on the creepy factor. Eventually I told him I had to close up for a few minutes so I could grab lunch. The deli across the street has the best daily specials. While I wait for my chicken shawarma, I make a mental list of all the things I need to do this afternoon: check the magazines to make sure the pages aren’t stuck together, restock the flavored lube, and wipe down everything Eugene molested with toy cleaner. Once I’ve tackled those less-than-fun chores, I can work on my assignment for my hospitality class, provided I don’t have real customers. I glance out the window, checking to make sure Eugene isn’t loitering around in front of the store, waiting to be let back in. Sometimes he’ll stop by more than once during my shift. He’s not there—thank God—but there’s a black sports car parked in the lot. It looks nice and possibly expensive, which might mean an actual customer who will spend money. Loki, the cashier at the deli, hands me my drinks and shawarma. “Thanks! Have a great day!” “You too,” Loki says to my chest. As I leave the store, I see a man in a suit reading the sign I taped to the door. I don’t want to miss a potential customer, so I take a deep breath and mentally shift gears, putting on my best sales-person mask. I have to pretend to be a completely different person when I deal with customers, so I can get through what would otherwise be a fairly embarrassing event. Discussing the ins and outs of sex toys with strangers is not something I particularly enjoy, but it’s a paycheck, so I’ve learned to roll with it. My root beer foams and drips down the straw while my coffee sloshes onto my hand—the lids never fit right—and my chicken shawarma dangles perilously between my pinkie and ring finger as I cross the street. The suit doesn’t look creepy like Eugene, but then, suits can be deceiving. Half the time they think they can proposition me like a sex worker. Or they pretend the weird stuff they’re buying is a gift and not for them. Pfft. I know better. Suit turns and heads for his car, so I call out, “Hey! You in the suit, hold on!” His shoulders hunch, as if he’s trying to be smaller, which is physically impossible. Based on the size of him, he probably played college football. Or he has Marvel comic hero blood relatives. Either way, he’s a big dude. He stops walking, though, which is good. I could use some sales today. The commission boost is always a plus to the shitty minimum wage. Rent is due next week, and judging by his car, he has money to burn. My heels are skyscrapers, and everything I’m wearing is either too short or too tight to facilitate running—the Sex Toy Warehouse uniform is supposed to be sexy, aka revealing—so I awkwardly jog the rest of the way while trying to get the key to the shop out of my pocket and not drop my shawarma. The manager gave me my own set since I frequently open the store. “Sorry to keep you waiting; plastic dicks don’t quite cut it for lunch.” Inwardly I cringe, because seriously, why did I say that? “I would imagine they’re not all that satisfying,” he replies in a deep voice that would probably sound good whispering naughty things in my ear. I’m not sure if he meant that suggestively or not. Regardless, I walked right into that one. I finally look up. Dear sweet Jesus on a cloud of marshmallows, this is my lucky day. The suit is gorgeous. Like the kind of hotness that sucks the breath right out of your lungs and sends all the blood in your body rushing between your legs. It’s a good thing clits don’t react like penises, otherwise mine would be hanging out of the bottom of my shorts with excitement. I’m thankful my physical reaction is limited to damp underwear and tingles. His dark hair is straight and cut short, parted at the side and neatly styled. He’s a cross between a mobster, and a fifties movie star. Capone and Ward Cleaver rolled together and dipped in lust. His nose is straight, lips are full, and he’s got a chin that looks like it could cut glass. His features are strong, but he somehow manages to be boyish even though everything about him screams pure, undiluted masculinity. His tongue drags across his pillowy bottom lip and his throat bobs. I lift my gaze and meet his eyes. They’re a strange color. Not brown, not green, but some kind of honey-lemon color, ringed in emerald. Like a cat maybe.

Read the rest of Chapter One: http://bit.ly/2KO3Mf6

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

Connect with Helena

Instagram: http://instagram.com/helenahunting Twitter: https://twitter.com/HelenaHunting Facebook: http://on.fb.me/Zt1xm5 Facebook Fan group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/385795934890523/ Website: http://www.helenahunting.com/ Never miss an update! Subscribe to Helena’s mailing list: http://bit.ly/2MlRKq6

PROMO PACKET: Ask Me Why Excerpt Reveal

 

ASK MY WHY by Harloe Rae Release Date: June 20, 2019 Genre: Contemporary romance (Enemies to lovers, single father)

 

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Blurb One deep breath. Two slow blinks. Three hollow beats. I’m still here.

After three years, that reminder isn’t as necessary. But everyone has their bad days. This is definitely one of them.

Until an adorable little boy dashes into my store. His zest for life makes me smile in a way that’s been long lost.

Then I meet his father. Well, confront is more like it.

Brance Stone is volatile. Offensive. Harsh. And can’t be bothered to care.

Not that I want him to. I get frostbite just looking into Brance’s glacial stare. But there’s something undeniable about him.

My misery suddenly craves company. The suffocating numbness lifts whenever Brance is near. That alone should have me running in the opposite direction. Try as I might, there’s no avoiding him. If only I could understand why. As if he’d let me.

I don’t ask. He doesn’t tell. A silent, bitter truce settles between us. That was our first mistake. It’s certainly not the last.

 

 

EXCERPT REVEAL: Ask Me Why by Harloe Rae Copyright © 2019 by Harloe Rae, LLC “Need a camera?”

I startle at the harsh growl. “Huh?”

“Then you can take a picture.” His frosty blue eyes narrow on me, and I’m frozen in place.

“Excuse me?” Why is my voice so breathy?

“It’ll last longer.” He raises a dark brow.

Clarity seeps into my stupor, and the urge to tuck tail streaks through me. But I don’t. I raise my chin and openly appraise him. “I like your suit.”

“It’s custom fit.”

“Looks that way.”

He crosses his arms and stands straighter. “You’re not my type, taffy girl.”

I fight the urge to scratch my temple, being stumped again. “Okay?”

“Stare all you want. It’ll get you nowhere.” He points between us. “Never gonna happen.”

For a moment, all I can do is gape at him. I feel my face go up in flames. Is he for freaking real?

“I w-wasn’t… no, I didn’t mean,” I sputter. “I’m not hitting on you.”

His smirk is devilish. “Save it for the judge, sugar. I get it.”

Before I can defend myself, Ollie zips toward us and smiles at me. “Do you like my dad?”

Everything inside of me skids to a stop. I pop my mouth open, but nothing comes out. My throat is a tight fist, and swallowing is a challenge. How the hell do I respond to that?

I tug at the collar of my shirt. “Uh, well, we haven’t really met. I don’t even know his name.”

Ollie’s gaze bounces between us. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.” There’s no hesitation. Throwing this cocky dick under the bus is an easy decision.

The ass glares at me. “We didn’t get that far.”

Ollie shakes a finger at his dad. “That’s not polite. You’re supposed to do introductions first. That’s what you taught me.”

He remains silent, thoroughly scolded by a child. Ollie huffs loudly. I lift a hand to cover my growing smile. Something tells me this imposing man wouldn’t appreciate my humor.

“Brance Stone,” he finally offers. A weaker woman might wither under that icy stare. Too bad for him, I’m all out of shits to give.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Braelyn Miller.” I plaster on an extra wide grin for good measure.

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Likewise.”

   

About the Author Harloe Rae is a USA Today & Amazon Top 100 bestselling author. Her passion for writing and reading has taken on a whole new meaning. Each day is an unforgettable adventure.

Harloe is a Minnesota gal with a serious addiction to romance. She’s always chasing an epic happily ever after. When she’s not buried in the writing cave, Harloe can be found hanging with her hubby and son. If the weather permits, she loves being lakeside or out in the country with her horses.

Harloe is the author of Redefining Us, Forget You Not, Watch Me Follow, GENT, MISS, LASS, and Ask Me Why. These titles are available on Amazon.

 

Connect w/Harloe BookBub: http://bit.ly/HarloeBB Amazon: http://bit.ly/HarloeOnAmazon Goodreads: http://bit.ly/HarloeOnGR Facebook Page: http://Facebook.com/authorharloerae Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/harloerae/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/harloerae Book & Main: https://bookandmainbites.com/harloerae Find all the latest on her site: www.harloe-rae.blog Subscribe to her newsletter: http://bit.ly/HarloesList Join her reader group, Harloe’s Hotties: http://www.facebook.com/harloehotties

     

Excerpt Reveal – Slay by Laurelin Paige

 

SLAY: RIVALRY (Slay Quartet #1) by Laurelin Paige Release Date: June 4th

 

Add SLAY #1 to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40611401-slay

   

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PREORDER SLAY: RIVALRY TODAY! Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KFYDH9 Amazon International: http://mybook.to/SlayBook1 iBooks: https://apple.co/2u4HpJ3 Kobo: https://laurl.in/slaybook1-kobo Nook: https://laurl.in/slaybook1-nook Google Play: https://laurl.in/slaybook1-gp

   

Blurb Edward Fasbender is a devil.

He’s my father’s business rival, a powerful, vicious man who takes what he wants and bows to no one. I only took the meeting because I was curious. I thought he was going to offer me a job.

But that’s not what he’s after at all. His proposal is much more intriguing, and I see an opportunity. An opportunity to turn the tables and bring down the devil.

I’ve gotten in trouble playing these games before. I know when the risk is too great, when the stakes are too high. I know how to be cold and strong-willed and destructive. I know how to withstand dominant men with arrogant charm and rugged features.

Yet I can’t resist taking on Edward.

And I can’t resist the pull he has on me.

Soon I’m not so sure which side of the battle I’m standing on–if I’m the warrior meant to slay,

Or the one who will be slain.

 

Excerpt I slammed the faucet off with my elbow and reached past him to tear a towel from the dispenser, which I crinkled up and dabbed at my palm. The rough paper scratched and irritated my sensitive skin, turning it an angry red. Turning me angry red.

I let out a frustrated groan, then whirled my exasperation on him. “What are you even doing here?”

One of my pre-planned talking points came rushing back at me in the beat that followed. “You’re stalking me,” I charged. It was supposed to have been an accusation with weight, meant to have been thrown at him when I innocently discovered he was at the same banquet I was attending, and how dare he! Much the way it had come across when he’d said it to me at Orsay.

Now, spat out so sourly, it sounded lame and desperate, probably because I was lame and desperate.

Grinning like a cat that had caught the canary, Edward gently took my hand in one of his and pulled the blue paisley square from his front pocket with the other.

“Am I?” he asked, the raw timbre of his voice oddly soothing. “Stalking you?”

“Yes, you are.” Rapt, I stared as he patted my palm dry with the handkerchief. I was shaking. Could he see that? Could he see how his touch seared into me? How it boiled? How it burned?

“That’s cute that you think that. I’m not, obviously, as this is my event, which, of course, you already know.” He wrapped the printed material around my hand, fashioning it into a bandage. And if your presence here is an attempt to hint that you expect me to court you, I shan’t do that either, so get over yourself and accept my offer.”

“You’re the one who needs to get over yourself. I’m not interested.” I jutted my chin out as if to dot the i of my disinterest.

Or to bring my lips closer to his.

He was already so near, his mouth only inches from mine and so tempting. As tempting as it was off limits, because I was certain it was. Even more tempting because it was off limits.

I wasn’t conscious of leaning in, wasn’t aware of the physical movement that brought my face to his. I only knew that there was this thing that I had to have, had to have badly, and that thing was his mouth pressed to mine. That thing was the taste of him on my tongue. That thing was the aching relief of his kiss.

My lips moved slowly against his with a cautious sort of eagerness, coaxing him open with a hint of my tongue. There wasn’t a question—my mouth was there, taking whether he gave or not—and yet, it felt like begging. Felt like I was pleading with the very shell of my soul to let me in. To kiss me back. To kiss me well.

 

About the Author With millions of books sold worldwide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. 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 Letterkenny, 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 w/Laurelin Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LaurelinPaige/ Amazon: http://amzn.to/2knJOrx Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/laurelin-paige Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thereallaurelinpaige/ Facebook Fan Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/HudsonPierce/ Website: http://www.laurelinpaige.com

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EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK/PROLOGUE – Stay by Tia Louise

STAY

★ PRE-ORDER FOR 99 CENTS NOW! 

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*STAY will release LIVE at 99 cents on Amazon on June 13! Wide readers, please pre-order now, as it will be Amazon Exclusivestarting June 13. Wide pre-orders will deliver June 11.

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STAY
by Tia Louise

Stephen Hastings is a control freak.
He’s arrogant. He’s smart as a whip and sexy AF.
He has too much money. He’s bossy, and he’s usually right.
All I saw were his clear blue eyes, tight ass, and ripped torso. I gladly handed him my V-card that night, ten years ago.
I was so stupid. I swore I’d never be that stupid again… Emmy Barton works for a dry cleaner?
Yes, that Emmy Barton—long, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pretty smile…
Sexy little ass. Smart mouth.
She was the only girl who interested me, but I was leaving to be an officer in the Navy. Now I’m home, running my business. My life is perfectly ordered until I bump into her, divorced and struggling to make ends meet.
I hate seeing her like this. I hate that she married Burt “The Dick” Dickerson. What an asshole. She says she hates me, but when we fight, it’s all heat and lust.
I won’t leave her this way.
She will let me help her and her son. She will stay
It’s a thin line between love and hate, and this line is on fire.

(STAY is a STAND-ALONE enemies-to-lovers, second-chance, marriage of convenience romance. No cheating. No cliffhangers.)


EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK

STAY
by Tia Louise
(c) TLM Productions LLC, 2019

PROLOGUE

Stephen 

Ten years ago…

Stop crying, kid. Life isn’t fair.

Humans invented fair as a pacifier, because they needed justice. Animals don’t know fair. In nature only the strong survive. You’re kind, loving, honest? Nice try.

If you’re weak, you die.

Or poor.

“What are you thinking, Esteban?” Ximena lowers herself carefully into a dingy-brown, worn-out armchair, and I blink these thoughts away. “You were always the smartest boy in the room.”

The gray strands outnumber the black in my old housekeeper’s hair. It’s thinner than it was when I was a boy, and she keeps it twisted in a low bun.

“Now I’m a man.” I kiss the top of her head. “And I’d wager the whole city.”

Her muscles tremble from exertion, but her eyes are bright. She still greets me with a smile, just like always when I visit. “Smartest man in the city. What is that like?”

“It sucks.” I look around her crumbling one-bedroom apartment.

It’s a second-floor walkup, outdated but clean. She works hard to keep it clean, even with the cancer eating her insides. Even with the years passing, drawing her closer to death.

The thought of her dying fans the darkness inside me. “Where’s Ramon?”

“He moved downtown. He got a good job, working at the shipyards.” Her accent is thick despite all the years she’s lived in Manhattan, her English sprinkled with Spanish.

“That’s a long way from here.”

He won’t visit. He might want to, but he won’t have the time or the energy to check on his dying mother.

Her neighborhood is shady as fuck, and she’s too weak to climb stairs. And I’m leaving for a long time. I’ll have to count on her neighbors to do what I can’t.

Slipping a fat business envelope from the breast pocket of my coat, I place it under a mug on her coffee table. “This should last a while. I’ll send more, but I won’t be able to check on you. I’ll be gone eighteen months, probably longer.”

“I’m so proud of you. So proud.” Her cheeks rise, and she slowly shakes her head. “A Navy officer.”

Every line in her face wrinkles with her grin. Her faded purple housedress is as thin and old as she is. I remember her fat and jolly, shining cheeks and hair, every word out of my mouth would make her laugh, even if it wasn’t funny. I didn’t understand her, how she gave love so generously to a boy who wasn’t hers. To the son of a man who didn’t even consider her worth his time, who thought he was doing her a favor hiring her to keep his oversized brownstone.

She takes my hand from where she sits, and I take a knee beside her. Every time I visit she’s smaller, slipping away. Her grip tightens, and the scent of her drugstore perfume drifts faintly around us, dried flowers and talcum powder. It draws a memory of me as a little boy sitting on her lap, crying against her neck after the death of my mother. She would hug me against her soft body, rocking and humming a sad song I didn’t recognize.

“Your father will cut you off if he finds out you’re giving me money, Esteban.”

I exhale a disgusted laugh. “Thomas is too proud to cut me off. It would make him look bad at the club. Unruly boys are to be tolerated, bragged about even.”

Her eyes close, and her head leans back as she exhales a weak chuckle. “Men are the same everywhere. Machismo.”

Pissing wars. I rise to standing in one fluid movement. “I’ll never forgive him for doing this to you.”

I blame him for her illness. I blame him for her deteriorating health. I blame him for her inability to find work after he ruined her reputation. No one would hire her after he branded her a thief in his home. All the Upper East Siders shut their doors in her face, and she was left to scrounge a living wherever she could.

I’ve brought her money from my allowance for five years, and I’d love him to come at me for it. Pompous bastard. So worried about his appearance. So offended by a missing watch.

“He did what he had to do.” Ximena still defends my father’s actions. “My son stole from him. Your father could not keep me in the house after he stole.”

“Ramon stole to buy you medicine. He didn’t steal to party or do drugs.”

He might’ve gotten away with it, too. If only he hadn’t stolen my father’s favorite Rolex—not one of the other seven he never wears.

“He did not put my son in jail.” She nods her head, as if my father, Thomas Hastings has the ability to throw anyone in jail.

He’s just a grown-up trust-fund brat who knows how to invest the massive wealth he inherited from our bootlegger ancestors. At least he’s good for something.

Pride beams in her eyes when she looks up at me. “Now you will go and be a hero. So handsome, serving your country.”

I smooth my hand down the front of my jacket, contemplating hypocrisy. “It’s what my mother always wanted. Her father was in the military.”

“Yes, and she can see you from above. She is so proud of you. Just like I am proud.”

I study the woman who filled my mother’s role for a little while. I can’t heal her. I can’t change her situation, and I want to leave her with happiness, not bitterness.

“Thank you, mamá. I love you.”

“I love you, Esteban.” She takes a slow inhale and forces a chuckle. “Now why are you here with an old woman? Why are you not out celebrating with friends? You have too much spirit. You should be with a girl tonight, release some energy.”

Energy. She’s encouraging me to go out and get laid. “I’m not looking for a girl.”

“A boy then!” My eyes snap to hers, and I see a joking sparkle.

After all the medicine, the chemotherapy, the drugs, she refuses to be beaten. She still manages to tease me. She’s the only person who can get away with it.

“I’m not gay. I’m leaving in the morning.”

“Which means you have all night.” She carefully rises out of her chair and takes my arm, pulling me to the door. “No more hanging around here. Go out and live your life.”

I wrap my arms around her in a long hug. The feel of her bones beneath thin cotton is physically painful to me. “I’ll find someone to check on you while I’m gone.”

“I have my friends. I have my neighbors. Stop worrying about me.” She shoos me away. “When it’s my time, I’ll be ready.” Touching my cheek, she says her final words to me. “Be brave, Esteban. Laugh often. Take care of yourself.”

“Take care of you.” I kiss the top of her head and hesitate one last time before I go.

It’s the last time I’ll ever see her…

* * *

Emmy

“Harley Quinn is way sexier than Black Widow any day of the week.” Burt Dickerson’s voice is too loud.

He’s on one of his DC versus Marvel fan-boy rants, and I’m staring into the bottom of my empty red solo cup. I need refill number four.

“Fuck that. Black Widow. Hands down.” My older brother Ethan yells at him, but he’s only yanking Burt’s chain. Ethan doesn’t give a shit about comic universes. “Give me a redhead any day. Fire crotch.”

My nose wrinkles, and I want to punch my brother in the junk. “She was a blonde in the last movie. You just like Scarlett Johansson.” Why am I’m still standing here listening to them?

“What’s wrong with that?” He pokes me in the ribs, and I’m ready to call it a night.

It’s almost midnight, and I’ve been watching the door so hard, my eyeballs hurt. Ethan threw this big college-graduation-slash-summer kick-off party for all his old school friends, and I made sure Stephen Hastings got an invitation.

Stephen Hastings… the love of my life.

Ethan said he wouldn’t come. He laughed at me and said Stephen hates most of these guys. It looks like he was right.

God, I’m such a fucking moron. How long can I save myself for a guy who doesn’t even know I exist? I’m a college woman now. Time to ditch the crush and start living my life.

I just…

I hoped.

With a sad exhale, my mind flies through all my cherished spank-bank memories of Stephen growing up… Tall, lean, dark, wavy hair that looks like he never touches it, but it’s always just perfect. He was on the rowing team with Ethan, and when he’d take off his shirt… holy shit, my core clenches at the memory of his broad shoulders, his perfectly sculpted arms… So muscular and tanned. The lines in his stomach would flex, and my mouth would water like Pavlov’s dog.

I’m ready to trade this beer for a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, curl up in my bed, and cry.

He’s not coming.

Walking down the steps, away from the landing at the door, I’ve reached the edge of the crowd when my brother’s voice freezes my insides.

“Stephen! Hell, I don’t believe it.” Ethan laughs, and a few of the guys join in greeting him. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“I didn’t either.” Stephen’s low baritone tickles my lady bits, and I turn slowly to look up at him.

He’s wearing a brown tweed jacket over a white button-down shirt and dark jeans. He hardly ever wears jeans, but shit, his ass is so fine in them. He always seems just a bit impatient, and when he scans the crowd, his blue eyes seem to glow from under his dark brow.

He’s so fucking hot.

My heart beats faster as I contemplate my next move. He will see me tonight, dammit. I’m giving myself one last chance.

He turns again to Ethan, and the muscle in his square jaw moves. “I’m pulling out in the morning.”

“Last day as a free man. Sucks to be you.” Ethan shoves a whiskey in his hand.

He inspects the glass. “I thought it demonstrated my good character.”

“Good character.” Burt’s loud voice interrupts them, and Stephen visibly cringes. “Still think you’re better than us, Hastings?”

“Only you, Dick.” Stephen takes a long drink. “Only you.”

Girls actually swoon over Burt all the time, but he’s nothing compared to Stephen.

“Let’s join the party.” Ethan puts his hand on Stephen’s shoulder, and they start down the stairs in my direction. “Find a chick and get your dick wet.”

“Right. That sounds like me.” Stephen shrugs off my brother, and Ethan staggers away.

He pauses at the bottom, scanning the crowd with a frown. I follow his gaze over the mob of former classmates. Most are buzzed. Most are familiar. We passed each other daily at Pike Academy four years ago—until he left for Yale. Tonight we’re reunited.

Girls sway in colorful silk dresses with thin, spaghetti straps, practically lingerie. Their hair hangs in waves over their shoulders and their eyes sparkle as they listen to guys tell exaggerated stories of their prowess, either in the stock market or on the playing field. The guys evaluate their breasts, their hips, their lips. I’m sure they’ll be fucking like good little rabbits before the night ends. Our classmates can be so predictable.

All I know is Stephen is wide open. It’s now or never.

“That’s a fierce scowl.” I’m amazed at how confident my voice sounds, loud and commanding. Thanks, beer. “Don’t like what you see?”

I hop up on the bottom step beside him. It puts my head at the top of his shoulder, and I lift my chin, looking over the crowd with a scowl, imitating him. “You’re right.” My nose wrinkles, and I meet his gaze. “They’re a bunch of horny assholes.”

I manage to come off casual, teasing, and his frown morphs into a narrow-eyed grin. “Emmy Barton. Ethan didn’t say kids would be here.”

His voice is like warm butter, and I’m thrilled he remembers me. “I’m not a kid anymore, Stephen Hastings. I started at Sarah Lawrence last year.”

“Bully for you.” He takes a drink of whiskey, but I’m stronger than his sarcasm.

“I wanted to stay close to home.”

“Why the hell would you want that?”

Blinking up at him, I smile, going for honesty. “I miss my dad. I miss Ethan. I guess family feels more important when you lose someone.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He looks down at his tumbler, and his expression darkens.

My mom lost her long battle against lung cancer a few years ago. It was devastating watching her suffer, and her death was a mixture of heartbreak and relief she was out of pain. It still hurts if I think about it too much…

Stephen’s mother died of cancer when we were kids, but I remember how it changed him. How he smiled less, played less.

“We have that in common, don’t we?” My voice is gentle.

“It’s not so fresh for me.” His softens, and I’m encouraged. I’m not inside the wall, but I’m closer.

“Here you are.” Burt appears at my side, putting his hand on my lower back. What the hell?

Stephen’s eyes go to where he’s touching me, and all I can think is Fuck no.

“You’re drunk.” I shove Burt’s hands off my short denim skirt.

He immediately puts both hands on my waist and turns me to him, leaning closer. “You’re not blowing me off for this asshole are you?” His breath smells like vodka, and his flat brown eyes are intoxicated.

He makes a move like he’s going to kiss me, but I duck and twirl away, moving to stand beside Stephen, holding his arm. “Stephen and I are having a nice chat. You need to call it a night.”

Burt’s attention turns to Stephen, and his brow lowers. Stephen is ready when Burt lunges at him. His strong arm shoots out, gripping Burt by the shoulder and holding him back.

“Walk it off, Dickerson.” It’s a low growl, and I know Stephen could wipe the floor with Burt’s drunk ass.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Hastings.” Burt grips his wrist.

Stephen’s fist rises, and I hold my breath. I’ve never seen Stephen fight, and my heart is flying. I’m sure it’s about to go down when Ethan and a big guy appear. They corral Burt, dragging him to the right, and I take my chance, catching Stephen’s arm and pulling him into the crowd.

He stops and straightens his jacket, jaw clenched. “That asshole. I’m taking off.”

“Wait!” I gently pull his arm again. “I know where we can get a refill… away from all this.”

He hesitates a beat, then our eyes meet and his shoulders relax. I quickly lead him past everybody, waving at old friends as we weave through the crowd.

Ethan put a keg out on the terrace near the wet bar, and Stephen goes to refresh his whiskey while I step over to the corner balcony overlooking Central Park. It’s a beautiful night, and I can see the moon and a few stars. I make a quick wish.

Warmth at my side causes me to turn. He’s standing beside me in the moonlight, dark hair, blue eyes, that dimple in the side of his cheek. “So, what’s your major?”

The way he says it makes me laugh. I push a strand of long, wavy blond hair behind my ear. “Art history.”

The scene flips. He actually groans, rolling his eyes and turning his back to the railing. “Not planning to work after college?”

His disgust offends me. “I most certainly am. I want to get a job at Sotheby’s or at one of the museums downtown. Maybe something in SoHo. Or maybe I’ll move to London!”

A moment’s pause, and he slants an eye at me. “Is that so?”

“It is.” My feathers are still ruffled, and I straighten my button-up cropped top. “What will you do now that you’re out? Take a job with your dad? Have a wife in New Haven and a mistress in the city?”

Two can play the stereotypes game.

He drifts a little closer, and my pulse ticks faster. “Is that what we do?” His voice is low, and his eyes drop to my lips.

My voice is softer, higher compared to his. “Isn’t it?”

A slight grin from him, and that humming is back in my veins. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s actually an apology. I underestimated you.”

Now it’s my turn to hesitate. Still, it’s not like I didn’t know Stephen was arrogant. It’s one of the things I love about him.

“Apology accepted.” Reaching out, I trace my finger down the front of his blazer. “Now. Wasn’t that easy? You don’t have to fight with everybody.”

Taking a chance, I put my hand on his chest. It’s firm and warm, and he covers my hand with his. It’s a gentle touch, but it radiates heat to my chest, fanning out into my belly, warming the space between my thighs. I want this so much… I’ve dreamed of it. I know if he’ll let me in, everything will change. He’ll change.

My voice is just above a whisper. “When you look at me like that, I wonder what you’re thinking.”

Our eyes hold, and I know he feels it, this pull between us. My breath stills, and I’m humming with desire.

But he throws on the brakes. “I’m thinking I’ve had enough whiskey.” His tone is level, and he releases my hand, moving away.

I have to stop him.

I can’t lose this moment.

“What do you want?” I’m sassy, flirting. “Do you even know?”

He stops, giving me the full force of his scowl. “Not a wife in Connecticut, and I definitely don’t need a mistress in the city.”

Closing the distance, I put my hand on his waist this time, sliding it back and forth, working my way lower. “Maybe you need me.”

He stops my downward progress with a strong grip. “You’re playing with fire, Emmy Barton.”

“I’d rather be hot than cold.”

His grip on me tightens, and he pulls me against his chest. I can barely breathe, but I blink up to his lips, slipping my tongue out to touch mine. His erection is against my stomach, and I’m so wet.

“Are you drunk?” His voice is a rough whisper.

“No. Are you?” Stretching higher, I touch my lips to the scratchy stubble of his jaw.

Leaning down, he kisses me fast. His lips shove mine apart, and his tongue invades, finding mine. My knees start to give out, but his arm is around my waist, scooping me up against his chest.

It’s a rough kiss, not kind or gentle, and my fingernails scratch up to his shoulders. A little noise escapes my throat, and he rumbles in response. Heat floods my panties.

Our mouths break apart with a gasp, and his blue eyes are blazing. “Do you want this?”

Nodding, I step back, holding out my hand. “Come with me.”

He hesitates as I go to the glass doors leading to Ethan’s dark bedroom. When I pause and look back, he’s watching me like a predator. His hair is messy from my fingers, and his lips are parted with his breath. He looks like pure sex.

“This way.” I’m holding still, hoping, until…

He follows me inside.

My shirt is ripped open. Stephen doesn’t bother removing my bra. He shoves the cups down under my small breasts, and devours me, pulling a taut nipple into his mouth and giving it a bite, sending electricity straight to my core.

“Stephen…” I whimper as his large hands cup and kiss me.

I’m on fire, threading my fingers into his hair. His mouth feels so good against my skin, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, perching my ass on the edge of the sink.

We’re locked in my brother’s small half bathroom, and he’s making my dreams come true.

“You still want this?” His voice is hot at my ear as he shoves my skirt up to my waist.

“Yes.” I gasp, gripping his neck. God, yes

His belt clinks, and I wait as he rolls on the condom. Our eyes meet once more, and his burn with desire. Everything’s going to change after this. He’s going to fall in love with me. I just know it.

Large palms go under my thighs, lifting them, and I feel the tip of his cock touching me, probing… It’s about to happen… Then all at once…

Oh, holy shit! My eyes squeeze shut, and I bite my lower lip hard, letting out a little moan of pain.

“Fuck, Emmy,” he groans in my ear. “You’re so fucking tight.”

I make a little noise of assent, gripping his shoulders. His massive cock rips through my virginity, and it hurts so much more than I expected. He has no idea, of course, and I have no intention of telling him. I know for certain Stephen Hastings would not deflower me so roughly.

Rotating my hips, I do my best to accommodate this distinct sense of fullness. My eyes are squeezed shut, and I focus on his scent, spicy sweat and fresh soap. It’s warm and good. He groans again, thrusting faster at my movements.

“Yes…” His lips find mine, kissing me quickly, a touch of his tongue leaves me wanting more. “Like that.”

His face is in my hair, and as he moves faster, somehow the pain begins to subside. It transforms into numbness, until gradually, gradually, the smallest flicker of warmth blooms in my lower belly.

“Come for me.” Hot breath is at my ear, and my forehead tightens. Can I?

Warm hands cup my ass, lifting me off the sink and turning us to the wall. The pain is gone, and my body slides up and down against his hard pelvis. His cock glides in and out, the ridge of its head working my insides. My clit is against his shaft, and something begins to happen. Prickling warmth starts to grow. It gets stronger, and I forget everything but chasing it down.

My thighs tighten around him, and I’m pumping my body up and down on him, riding him, wanting that tingling heat to keep getting hotter. I’m desperate, gripping his skin and moaning as the orgasm creeps higher up my thighs.

“Fuck, Emmy.” He groans, fucking me harder.

“Yes…” It’s almost there. “Yes!” It’s right there… the tightness in my lower stomach.

It bursts through me, and I moan so loud. It’s like a million fireworks shooting through my veins. My vision goes white. I’m flying, and I feel it when his orgasm breaks, pulsing deep inside me as he comes with a loud noise.

I’m shaking. My thighs shudder and grip him, and he holds me. He holds still as we both fly through space together, soaring past galaxies, touching the stars. It’s amazing.

Gradually, I blink open my eyes, and through the haze, I see us in the mirror, our bodies molded perfectly together. It’s just like I dreamed it would be. My arms are around his neck, our bodies flush. It only lasts a moment.

The noise of the party outside creeps into our little cocoon. He reaches between us, lowering me to my feet as he grips the condom and quickly disposes of it. I feel like a newborn colt, my legs are so shaky.

His back is to me, and his shoulders broaden as he takes a deep breath. Then he moves to the sink to wash his hands. “It’s been a while since I’ve done that.” He sounds apologetic.

Shoving my skirt down, I straighten my bra, struggling to get a grip. “What? Bathroom fucked at a party?” I’m shook.

He cuts off the water and dries his hands on the towel as I button my shirt. I’ve managed to get myself together when he steps to me, putting one hand above my head on the wall and leaning close. “Had sex, period.” Leaning down he kisses my cheek. “You were great.”

He steps back, and just like that, he’s ready to go.

“That’s it?” I’m confused. The devastation hasn’t hit me yet.

“I think I’ll head on home.” He reaches out and pats my upper arm. “Good luck at school.”

I recoil from his touch. Are you kidding me? Good luck at school?

Loud banging startles me. A female voice shouts through the door, “Hurry up in there!”

The banging grows louder, and I go toward it, looking over my shoulder but not meeting his eyes. “Seems I overestimated you.”

Pushing through the door, I run into the crowd. The party surrounds me like a wave, and I let it pull me under, drowning my tears in noise and sweeping us apart.


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Excerpt – Unexcepted Love by Kristin Mayer

IMG_8666UNEXPECTED LOVE by Kristin Mayer is releasing May 17th!!!

Special Pre-Order Sale: Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2HjuCIp Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/30cSl5X Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2Q09Ql7 Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2Q2yuBE
UnexpectedLove_FrontCover
When I said, “I do,” I meant it for life. When he said, “I do,” he didn’t mean it at all. Divorced and single, I’m ready to find true love. When a business deal requires me to create an online dating account, I find myself drawn to Mister_Mystery. He’s not looking for love. I’m not looking for another lie. We decide to never meet. But fate has something very different in mind. Special Pre-Order Sale: Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2HjuCIp Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/30cSl5X Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2Q09Ql7 Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2Q2yuBE Add it to your TBR: http://bit.ly/UnexpectedLoveTBR

UnexpectedLove_FullCover.jpg

EXCERPT REVEAL

“How did this happen?” I asked the blank walls of my apartment. I collapsed on my sofa, still in shock from my encounter at the coffee shop. On a whim, I had walked by Rex after work and wanted to give it a try. It was like fate had taken me there and then played a cruel joke on me. All week long, I’d wondered what had happened to Mister Mystery on the dating app. Now I knew. He was out of my league.

Wealthy.

Good looking.

Polished.

In the same category I’d put Lucian Black. Hell, he was Lucian Black. And he had to be worth millions—maybe more. My head was a mess. And he had a child, according to the pictures I’d found when I searched him online while walking through Central Park before coming home.

A child.

Words like “powerful mogul” and “strictly private” were common in the articles I’d found when I’d finally stopped at a bench to sit down. That seemed at odds with what I knew about Mister Mystery.

The articles had confirmed that he was divorced.

His ex-wife seemed to be something of a problem.

My head spun more. Part of me wished Lucian had tried to stop me from leaving. But he hadn’t. At least I knew… at least I knew. The conference calls and drab functions from my conversations with Mister Mystery made sense.

But a child. He had a child.

It was like déjà vu from my marriage to Braden, although logically I knew it wasn’t the same. But finding out like that was… jarring, to say the least.

Mister Mystery had never brought up a child. Not that he’d had to, of course. In fact, it made sense that he hadn’t. Children were precious and needed to be protected. But the news had shocked me. The entire situation shocked me.

I got a pint of ice cream and slipped on my fuzzy slippers before dropping onto the couch and staring at the wall. My phone vibrated. When I saw the name mister mystery flash across the screen, my heart stopped.

Mister_Mystery: And now that you’ve had time to think about what happened, what are your thoughts?

I took a big bite of the cookie dough ice cream and stared at the text. Another message came through. Mister Mystery could tell I had seen the message.

Mister_Mystery: I understand if you never want to talk to me again. I should have asked you to stay earlier so we could talk more. I haven’t handled this well.

I took another big bite.

Mister_Mystery: Have a good night, Addilyn.

It was odd to see him use my real name and not Aurora. I set the pint of ice cream aside so I could reply.

Me: I’m still in shock and I shouldn’t have searched your name online. It’s very… overwhelming.

Mister_Mystery: I’m just a guy, Addilyn.

Me: A guy with a lot of… exposure.

Mister_Mystery: That’s true at times. But my life is also very private.

Things felt awkward between us. Before, it had been easygoing. I was afraid our time was drawing to an end. I wasn’t in the right head space to make any type of decision. But I couldn’t get him out of my head, either. And was there really a decision to make? My heart beat a little faster now that I had a name and a face to go with the person I had gotten to know over the last month.

Mister_Mystery: Night, Addilyn. Sweet dreams.

Me: Night. Sweet dreams to you, too.

I closed out the app, unsure what to make of it all. I’m just a guy, Addilyn. What was that about? Had Lucian wanted to continue our conversation? Or was he just being nice? From the beginning, Lucian had been clear he wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship.

Minutes turned to hours as I sat on my couch and got lost in another old movie. My mind drifted to Lucian. His lean, muscular body, his dark hair, those enigmatic eyes. At nearly six in the morning, I had only nodded off every now and again for a few minutes each time. I brought out my phone.

Me: Did you sleep?

Me: I mean how’d you sleep?

Me: I mean good morning.

I groaned and threw back my head. Way to be smooth. Lucian saw the messages almost immediately.

Mister_Mystery: Good morning. I didn’t really sleep last night. You?

Me: Me either. Were you working?

Mister_Mystery: No. You?

Me: No.

Mister_Mystery: I think we both have a lot to say. Why don’t we meet?

I bit my lip. Yeah, I needed to talk to him a little more. At least for closure.

Me: When? Where?

Mister_Mystery: I’m north of Central Park.

Me: I’m west of Central Park.

Mister_Mystery: How about an hour? Meet me in Central Park at the hot chocolate stand near the carousel?

I knew the place well. It would be busy as the city had just opened the carousel for a special occasion. I wondered if Lucian picked that place specifically to make me feel comfortable.

Me: I’ll be there. See you soon.

Mister_Mystery: Until then.

Teaser 5

MEET THE AUTHORS:

Kristin Mayer tries to live life to the fullest during every moment. She loves to travel, meet new people, and mark items off of her bucket list.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at kristinmayerwrites@gmail.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKristinMayer/, on Twitter @author_Kristin, and on Instagram at kristin.mayer.

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That Second Chance by Meghan Quinn – Excerpt Reveal

ThatSecondChance_FBPage-comingsoonbanner That Second Chance Excerpt I’m counting out our register drawer, trying to stay focused on the numbers whipping through my head, but it’s difficult with Reid’s constant small talk. I jot down another tally mark on the paper in front of me and set aside a stack of bills. “Hello, are you listening?” Reid asks, sounding annoyed. “No. I’m counting.” “Well, I’m talking about you, so you might want to lend me your ear for a second.” Huffing, I set the cash on the counter, knowing my very persistent brother won’t be quiet until I give him my full attention. “What’s up, Reid?” Satisfied, he smiles. “You should ask her out.” “Ask who out?” “Ren.” Yeah, that’s not going to happen. “No.” I go back to counting, but Reid starts snapping his fingers at me. “Hey, I wasn’t finished.” I look back up at him, not even slightly interested in this conversation. “I saw the way she was looking at you today. I think she likes you.” “You’re confused. She was probably just being nice, since I’m the guy who pulled her out of the window of her car after her accident. And even if she does like me, which I highly doubt, there’s no interest on my end. So that’s the end of that.” “Bull,” Reid and Jen both say at the same time. Christ. My two most nagging siblings are ganging up on me. Just what I need when I’m trying to get home and relax. “Can we not make this into a dissection of my personal life, please? I’m not in the mood, and I want to get this done so I can go home.” “Griff, she’s pretty, she’s sweet, and she’s smart. She’s new to town and, I’m sure, could use a friend,” Jen says just as the door opens, its bell chiming through the space. Brig pops in, grease all over his shirt and a smirk on his face. Uh-oh. There’s only one reason why he’d be smirking at me that way. “What are we talking about?” He rubs his hands together and takes a seat on a barstool near the window. “If it’s about the hot new teacher in town, I want in on this conversation.” “We’re trying to convince Griff to ask her out.” Brig slow claps his appreciation. “Novel idea. I think they’re a perfect match.” “I’m not asking her out,” I huff, giving up on the register and leaning against the wall behind me, arms crossed. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on counting while these three are yapping in my ear. “Why the hell not? She’s perfect for you,” Brig says, a little insulted at my rejection. “Before you even say no, you should at least get to know her a little. I told her today she could borrow your truck while her car is in the shop.” I count to five before answering, tamping down my temper. “Why the hell would you do that?” Okay, maybe I didn’t tamp it down enough. “Uh, because she lives three houses down from you?” Brig rolls his eyes as if I’m the stupid one in this conversation. “She needs some help, so be a knight in shining armor, dude. Help out the damsel in distress and then make out with her on the beach. Maybe cop a feel; get some for once.” “I’m not doing that,” I answer, going back to the money, letting them know this conversation is over. “And why not?” Jen asks. “Because I’m not interested in starting or being in a relationship. I’m happy with how my life is right now, and I don’t need anything complicating it.” “But she has heart eyes for you,” Brig says like a jackass. “Don’t worry; there are plenty of Knightly brothers to choose from,” I reply. “Come on, Griff, how fun can going home to an empty, lonely house really be?” Jen chimes in, concern evident in her voice. I shift on my feet, my voice terse. “I like my house. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Silence falls between us, an awkward air moving in like a fast-moving cold front. “Is this because of New Orleans?” Reid finally asks, taking a seat next to Brig. Both of my brothers fix their gazes on me, waiting for an answer. Why is this a thing whenever we talk about my love life? Can’t they just let it go? What happened was … hell, I don’t even know how to describe it. All I know is I don’t foresee love in my future. Claire was the love of my life, and I lost her; in a blink of an eye she was gone. I’m not going through that again. Not ever. Shaking my head, I turn away from my family. This conversation is over. And with that, I take the cash to the back office, where I can get some peace and quiet. Ask Ren Winters out on a date? Not going to happen. And she’s not going to drive my truck either. I think that’s evident in the fact that she drove her car in between two trees. Can’t blame a guy there. ThatSecondChance_teaser-9 That Second Chance releases May 7th! Pre order your copy HERE!

Excerpt & Countdown Post for INTERNATIONAL PLAYER by Louise Bay!!

INTERNATIONAL PLAYER by Louise Bay Release Date: April 30th

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43132944-international-player

 

PRE-ORDER TODAY!! Apple Books exclusive pre order: https://apple.co/2QdJdwn Paperback: https://amzn.to/2PmIK5M

 

Blurb: Being labelled a player never stopped me from being successful with women. Until I met Truly Harbury.

Truly was the first girl who ever turned me down.

The first female friend I ever had.

And she might jyst be the first woman I ever fall in love with.

When an emergency means she needs my help running her family’s charity, I’m happy to introduce her to the glitz and glamour of the London business world—taking her to dinners, coaching her through speeches, zipping up the sexy evening gown I helped her pick out.

The more time we spend together, the more I want to convince her I’m not a man to avoid, that we’re not as unsuited as she believes.

She sees herself as the book-reading, science-loving introvert while I’m the dangerous, outgoing, charmer.

She thinks I love parties and people whereas she prefers pajamas and a takeaway.

What she doesn’t realize is that I like everything about her–the way her smile lights up a room, how her curves light up my imagination, and especially the way her lips taste when coated with tequila.

She’s the first woman I ever fell in love with. I just need to know if she could ever love me too.

 

Excerpt: I held out his glass, and he took it with one hand, loosening his tie with the other. I pulled my eyes away from his long fingers and the way he always seemed so confident everywhere he went.

“How was your day?” he asked as he sat on the other end of the sofa, one long arm stretched across the back of the cushions, almost touching me like he’d done the night we’d kissed at the tequila bar.

“Good,” I said, nodding furiously.

He chuckled. “What’s going on, Truly? Do you have bad news you need me to help you deliver to Abigail? An issue with the foundation?”

“Not exactly,” I replied, tipping back some more wine. “Not at all, in fact.” I had to tell him what I was thinking, but it seemed so stupid now that he was here, all perfect and gorgeous. Why on earth would he want me?

“I just thought we could have some wine and talk. You know.”

His smile faltered. “Okay.” He took a sip of wine. “You said you had a proposition.”

“Yeah, but I’m not drunk enough yet,” I replied. I wasn’t sure I would ever be drunk enough. “And neither are you.”

“I have to be drunk to hear whatever you have to say?” He glanced around my book-lined room. “Are you going to tell me you’re MI6 and that you want to recruit me? Because I’m in. I always thought I’d enjoy a life as a spy. It just doesn’t pay enough. But I could do it part-time.”

I fixed him with a glare. “I’m not trying to recruit you into MI6, Noah.” I rolled my eyes. Men. Why did they always think they were a step away from being the next James freaking Bond?

He grinned. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You’d make a terrible spy.”

I leaned back into the sofa. “There’s no way I could do that job.”

“For one thing, they look for people who don’t stand out—you’re way too beautiful for people not to notice you.” He twisted my hair in his fingers, and I closed my eyes, forgetting for a few seconds how that wasn’t normal behavior between us.

My eyes flew open. “That’s a perfect example.” I shifted to look at him properly. “Things like that. The fingers. The telling me I’m beautiful. I need you out of my system. And Jesus God and a banana, I need some sex.”

He chuckled and grabbed the bottle, topping himself up. “I’m cutting you off until you tell me what this is all about,” he said.

“I just told you. I need to get laid, and you, with all your tequila kisses and unzipping dresses and that thing you do with my neck—you’re the man for the job.”

“The job?” he asked, his eyebrows retreating into his hairline. “The job of getting you laid?”

About the Author: USA Today bestselling author, Louise Bay writes sexy, contemporary romance novels – the kind she likes to read. Her books include the novels Faithful (not currently on sale as undergoing maintenance!), Hopeful, The Empire State Series, The Royals Series, The Nights Series (both series of standalone books each following different characters) and the standalone Gentleman series.

Ruined by romantic mini-series of the eighties, Louise loves all things romantic. There’s not enough of it in real life so she disappears into the fictional worlds in books and films.

Louise loves the rain, The West Wing, London, days when she doesn’t have to wear make-up, being on her own, being with friends, elephants and champagne.

She loves to hear from readers so get in touch!

Connect w/Louise: Website: https://louisebay.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorlouisebay Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/louisesbay Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/louiseSbay Amazon: https://amzn.to/2VSsbDb Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8056592.Louise_Bay Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/louise-bay