TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with C.R. Moss’s hot new release To Be His. Take it away, C.R.!
Thank you for having me on your blog! I’m happy to share with you and your readers my latest release.
First is some information about the series and the book…
About the Series
Nestled within the hills of central Texas is a special ranch. A place that defies the laws of physics—that of time, space, and dimensions. It’s a place where normal morphs with the paranormal and supernatural. A place that seems to know what a person’s true desires and needs are, and then allows the right circumstances to occur to fulfill those wishes.
Welcome to the Gateway Ranch.
Your gateway to all things possible…
I’m Professor Arianna Perez, and I’ve been asked if I’ll ever trust, let alone love, another man again. After dumping an abusive boyfriend, I doubted I would. At least, that’s how I felt until fate had sexy wrangler, Gavin Bishop, reappearing in my life in a way I never expected.
Against my better judgement, I fell hard for the cowboy, believing everything he said, including how he wanted to treat me like a queen and keep me safe. Little did I know, though, that the circumstances that brought us together could also tear us apart…
And possibly claim my life.
Smiling, I studied him some more. Every time I looked at his chiseled chest and the strip of hair going in a line from his belly button to a spot hidden by his jeans, my heart fluttered. Sure, I’d seen a lot of him in class, but this was just the two of us.
This was intimate.
I wanted to run my fingers along his skin. Play with the patch of hair. See where my caresses would lead to. I wanted to create with him. I’d felt this way with other boyfriends, even Chad, but never had the urge been so strong. Nor had I been able to gather the courage to do anything about it in the past. Except once. When my relationship with Chad had started imploding, a friend of mine gave me an art kit, one designed to help couples grow closer to each other. I’d shown it to Chad. He’d then called the gift, my idea, and me stupid, telling me I must be an idiot to think he’d be interested in such a “childish, preposterous activity.”
Asking him if he thought my career were those things, as well, spurred on a multi-hour argument that ended with him leaving and not returning for two nights. When he’d finally come home, he’d seemed remorseful and promised to do better by me. He had, too. For a couple of weeks. But we never had used the present.
Now would be a good time to make some new memories surrounding those art supplies.
After all, I seemed to have a very willing participant, who happened to be gorgeous in my opinion, beautifully proportioned in a trim, well-toned way, and desired little ol’ me. Gavin wanted me, had admitted to dreaming and fantasizing about me. Despite my concerns about our ages and how we used to know each other, I realized I felt the same about him.
I hungered for him.
“God, I want to paint you,” the awed words fell from my mouth before I could stop them.
“Thought that’s what we’re doing,” Gavin responded.
Clearing my throat, I jerked my attention from him, went to my paints, and faked looking for one. “Well, yes, but…” Spit it out, girl. Be brave. Have some fun. Gathering my resolve, I continued, “I want to get out a gift a friend of mine had given me a while back. It contains non-toxic paints. This way I can paint you. Use you as both palette and canvas. And, if you’re up for it, you can paint me.”
An impish grin stretched his face. “Sounds interesting. What do we need to do?”
Where to Buy
About the Author
An eccentric and eclectic writer, C.R. Moss pens stories for the mainstream and erotic romance markets, giving readers a choice of sweet, savory or spicy reads, usually within a sub-genre or two — paranormal, sci-fi/fantasy, time travel, or western flare. She also has a passion for penning dark fiction. Writing as Casey Moss, she delves into the darker aspects of life in her work, sometimes basing the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will take you on a journey from the lighthearted paranormal to dark things unspeakable. What waits around the corner? Come explore…
Yes, darlings, I’m back, and happy Wednesday to you all! Today I’m here with Lea Bronsen and her smouldering new contemporary romance Shade Addiction, now available from all online sellers of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Lea!
Ex-boxer Mike Logan struggles to put a brutal past behind and make ends meet as a bus driver. When a young runaway settles for an all-night ride, he seizes the chance to do a good deed—get her home safely. But first, they’ll drive around and talk.
What he doesn’t anticipate is that this broken night angel is also a sexy little minx needing a lot more … and not just the gentle kind.
**This is an expanded edition of the story previously featured in the anthology Passion, Pleasure, Pain in 2019**
She gives me a long, languorous look. I think I know what it means: She’s interested by my wild side. Dark attracts dark. She believes she’s found the same kind of fallen angel as she is, a soul mate.
Wrong, kiddo. What you need is someone good, not broken like me.
She reaches over the table to pat my chest. “So hard. Jesus. You definitely work out.”
Her touch sends electric sparks to my groin. My cock pulses. I push her hand away. “Don’t do that.”
I sigh. “I’m thirty-two, you’re what?”
“Nineteen, that’s very young. I could easily be accused of taking advantage of you. Did you see how the waitress treated me?”
She crosses her arms underneath her boobs. “But I’m an adult, and I have boyfriends.”
“You have boyfriends.”
“Yeah.” She holds my gaze.
I don’t know why I had to make a deal of that.
She continues, “So, it’s not like I’d let anybody touch me if I didn’t want them to.”
“Well, I don’t want you to touch me. Let’s go.”
Where to Buy
Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads
About the Author
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Valerie J. Clarizo’s hot new re-release The Code Enforcer. Take it away, Valerie!
Having been made the laughing stock of her hometown by her cheating ex-fiancé, Investigator Markie Pearson has sworn off overly-confident, good-looking men. When Bryce Hawk strolls into town, Markie quickly realizes he’s the classic example of a man she needs to keep at a distance.
Ex-Marine Bryce Hawk moves to small-town Wisconsin after his military career-ending injury. All he wants to do is hide in his mundane job as the city’s code enforcer while he sorts out his life. What Bryce doesn’t account for is Markie, that emerald eyed beauty, walking through his office door on day one. Too bad it’s too, late. Women are not in his plans, nor will they ever be…especially Markie, the one who gets his dormant juices flowing while irritating him at the same time.
When the municipal code violators that Bryce is investigating are murdered, Bryce becomes Markie’s number one suspect. Or, is he another target? Is she?
His lips silenced her words and his large hands cupped her cheeks, heating her skin. His flavor seeped into her. The kiss that started as urgent slowed, calmed, teased her to the brink of uncontrolled desire. He paused, lingered, and then returned to a soft, slow seducing pace. This guy knew how to kiss.
Bryce. The guy kissing her beyond the ability to think was Bryce. How?
Shit, who cares? His lips felt so good she kept in sync with him. Could do this for hours.
Bryce pulled back. The hope it was just a pause and he’d resume faded quickly as he edged back a bit farther.
Sheer disappointment raked through her. Distance clouded over the desire in his gaze. Where was he going off to?
Markie took a step toward him. He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. His sun-darkened face turned white.
“Are you okay?”
His gaze landed on the floor. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
Her heart hammered. “Sorry you kissed me?”
This certainly wasn’t the behavior of a confident womanizer. “Bryce?”
He slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I’m sorry, but I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was a mistake. We work together. We shouldn’t do this.”
That was the biggest line of crap she’d ever heard. What was he afraid of? You can’t kiss someone with that much emotion—heart—and not really mean it, feel it. So it couldn’t be how he felt about her that made him back off just now, something else bothered him. What?
After several beats of uncomfortable silence, she fished her car keys from her pocket. “Okay then. You’re probably right. This is a bad idea.”
She spun around and headed for the door, holding hope he’d call after her.
Moving slowly, she climbed into her vehicle and started the engine, all the time wishing that front door of his would open and he’d step through it to stop her from leaving.
If it hadn’t been for the swirling desire in his gaze when they stared at each other in silence, she wouldn’t have held hope he’d come after her. Between his intense stare and the seducing movement of his mouth when it was pressed to hers, there was no way he didn’t desire her. So why did he fight it?
Peeling back the layers of Bryce Hawk just became her new life mission.
Where to Buy
About the Author
Valerie Clarizio lives in romantic Door County Wisconsin with her husband and two extremely spoiled cats. She loves to read, write, and spend time at her cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
She’s lived her life surrounded by men, three brothers, a husband, and a male Siamese cat who required his own instruction manual. Keeping up with all the men in her life has turned her into an outdoors enthusiast, of which her favorite activity is hiking in national parks. While out on the trails, she has plenty of time to conjure up irresistible characters and unique storylines for her next romantic suspense or sweet contemporary romance novel.
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, darlings! Today I’m featuring H.K. Carlton and her delicious new re-release If You Can’t Handle the Heat, now available from Amazon and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, H.K.!
Thank you for inviting me to your blog today. I’m doubly excited to share not only the re-launch of, If You Can’t Handle the Heat, but this re-release is also my first self-publishing venture.
This story was previously published with the title If You Can’t Stand the Heat. Though there is a little bit of added content, the story remains relatively the same.
In this erotic story, two very different professionals are brought together as celebrity judges on a reality-based cooking show. Sesto Théodore—the celeb chef that the show is built around—meets walking cliché, Syn Fully, erotic novelist. Though there is an immediate conflict in personalities, there is also an instant sizzling attraction. A classic clash and burn.
An unlikely couple is brought together as celebrity judges on a new reality-based cooking show.
Sesto Théodore, is an arrogant yet well respected American-Italian chef, with several five-star restaurants.
Once bitten, twice shy, Syn Fully, is a jaded author of erotica, rocketing her way up all the best sellers lists.
From the moment Syn and Sesto meet, their personalities clash, yet behind the scenes sparks fly. Getting together would be a recipe for disaster, but hot sex with no-strings couldn’t hurt. At least not until real feelings get involved.
But just when Syn considers opening her damaged heart to the cocky chef, video of rather personal content is leaked online. Sesto immediately jumps to conclusions and accuses Syn of the privacy breach.
Can the arrogant chef forgive and forget, or will his pride leave him out in the cold?
Somebody’s about to get burned…
Possible Triggers: Please note one scene contains borderline bdsm and dubious consent/forcible confinement. Also in this story intimate video is obtained without the knowledge or consent of the participants involved, and later distributed online
Author’s Note: This erotic story has been previously published with the title, If You Can’t Stand the Heat. Though there is a little bit of added content, the story remains relatively the same. It has been re-edited and re-formatted for re-release, and has a sizzling new cover thanks to Studioenp.
Sesto took the opportunity to turn his wrath on Syn. “May I speak to you out in the hall, please!” he demanded, shooting to his feet.
“Of course,” she responded, haughtily, as though she hadn’t just been giving him the initial stages of a hand job under the table.
Sesto allowed Syn to take the lead. He was momentarily captivated by her long shapely legs, as she stalked across the space, confident and oh-so fuckin’ sexy in those red stilettos. Sesto pulled level with her and couldn’t resist the urge to place his hand to the small of her back, left bare by the severe cut of her dress. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d trembled at the contact. Or was it his hand that quivered?
In the corridor, Syn rounded on him, at the same moment he blurted, “What the fuck do you think…”
The words died on his tongue, as she once again stroked his shaft through his trousers. Her gaze settled on his mouth. Her breathing was shallow.
“Where’s your dressing room?” she asked, backing him up.
Sesto grabbed her other wrist and dragged her into the green room, before slamming the door behind them.
He yanked her hand, above her head and forced it against the door. He half-expected her to fight. What he wasn’t prepared for was the brazen little smile that hooked her sinful lips, as she raised her arm to join the other. With both hands stretched above her head Syn arched toward him, thrusting her beautiful tits, right in his face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked again. “We don’t even know each other.”
“I know. Isn’t it wicked, how our bodies want to though.”
He groaned, shifting uncomfortably foot to foot, yet he couldn’t focus on anything but her lovely breasts.
“Go ahead, Théo, set them free,” she tempted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Where to Buy
About the Author
H K Carlton is a multi-genre Canadian author of romance, with over thirty titles in publication. From naughty to nice, historical to contemporary, time travel to space travel, and everything in between.
Variety is creativity’s playground—It’s where you’ll find me. Join me for the ride:
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, darlings! Today I’m featuring London Saint James and her delicious new romance Destiny Happened, now available from LSJ Romance and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, London!
Of course, I noticed Mr. Shirtless. With a bod like his, who wouldn’t? But his hot-factor didn’t matter. What did? My asshat ex and the need to make him jealous. So, I strolled up to the panty-melting stranger as though I knew him and laid one on him, hoping said asshat would see I’d moved on just fine without him. Only, he never saw me kissing another man.
I spotted her—honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun as she came my way. I’d flirt. Smile. Maybe get her number. I sure the hell didn’t expect her to toss her arms around my neck, mashing her body against mine, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me. Then, she stopped. Stepped back. Blushed. Whispered “Sorry” and blended into the crowd. I never got her name that day. Or her number. However, fate had other plans and Destiny happened…again.
Pops quickly flipped a line of sizzling sausages with his heavy-duty tongs as I carried an oversized cooler past him. “Those better be more brats for the grill since these babies are sellin’ out fast.”
“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, old man,” I said, sliding the container next to the boxes I’d placed under the canopy a few minutes earlier.
He bobbed his head. “Know it.”
There was affection and perhaps a little pride in my papaw’s tone.
“I’ve got another couple of coolers to bring over, so we should have enough brats to get us through the rest of the day.”
While having a food booth at Oktoberfest was an annual money-raising activity, allowing us to give a nice sum to a local charity—as well as excellent advertisement for Caldwell Trucking and Repair—hauling stuff to and from our venue and fighting the traffic and crowds wasn’t my favorite thing.
Glancing around I asked, “Where’s Joe?”
“He called a little while ago. He should be here any minute now.”
“You actually answered your cell phone? I’m impressed.”
Pops flipped another bratwurst. “Don’t give me shit, boy.”
“Just happy to see you giving in.” I chuckled. “It’s about time you moved out of the stone age.”
“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “I miss the good old days when a person wasn’t reachable twenty-four-seven. When my ass isn’t planted in my office chair, then I’m out. No one gets the concept of being away and unavailable anymore. I don’t need to be interrupted all the time.”
I couldn’t help but grin at his usual rage against the machine. Everyone knew if Pops was out of the trucking office, odds were good, speaking to him probably wasn’t happening.
“How about Cray?” I asked.
“Haven’t heard from him.”
“That asshole better not pull another no show. It’s his turn to do clean up.” With a shoulder lift, I swiped sweat from my face onto my damp, gray t-shirt.
I’d much rather work fifteen-hour days at the shop—which, let’s be honest, I did often so I could catch up on the paperwork end—than to deal with the daily vendor set up and nightly clean up.
“You know your brother, Kash.”
Shit… I’d be doing my younger brother’s job later because Crayten would do what he always did—leave me high and dry.
“Yeah, Pops, I do.”
We were only two days into this four-day event, and I wasn’t happy. Adding to my piss poor mood was the damn heat. It might have been October, but it was still hot as hell and even hotter standing behind our commercial-sized stainless steel grill where I would eventually be to give Pops a break. But come on. Four days of organized chaos and three-hundred-thousand festival goers could drive a man to drink. Although, on a positive note, I didn’t have far to go if I wanted to tie one on. The entrance to the beer garden was only a few feet away.
“Hey.” Joe strolled up, man bun in place—hipstered out in his skinny pants, a blue shirt with red suspenders, and a big goofy smile on his bearded face. “Did you catch those bar wenches?”
We did our standard fist bump greeting. “I’ve been too busy hauling shit to notice anyone.”
“Joe”—Pops motioned with his tongs—“I’ll never understand why you want to do that crap to your poor ears.”
That was Pops for you. His grousing way of greeting one of our best mechanics while at the same time giving the guy crap about the shiny black plugs protruding through his lobes.
Joe tugged on his right ear good-naturedly. “All the ladies love my accoutrements.”
“Accoutrements is it?” My papaw snorted. “Fancy.”
“Pops, stop busting Joe’s balls,” I said.
“All right, all right,” he rasped. “Glad you’re here, J.”
“Thanks, Mr. Caldwell. I’m happy to help,” Joe said—humor in his tone. He glanced back at me. “Still have stuff in your truck?”
“I’ll give you a hand.”
I reached over my shoulder and yanked my shirt up, tugging it up and off my head. “Appreciated. Just give me a sec.”
Balling the cotton material, I swiped the driest section over my sweaty chest and stomach, glad I’d thought to toss a couple of clean t-shirts with our shop logo onto the passenger seat of my pickup that morning. I’d need to put on a fresh one.
A section of the milling crowd parted, and a few whistles snagged my attention. No. The whistles weren’t directed at me. They were for some dark-haired woman who was tossing her hands in the air and shaking her ass.
I’ll admit, she was attractive in a Jennifer Garner kind of way. But the woman next to her, shaking her head and smiling—long, honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun—was a fucking knockout. A knockout who looked my way. A knockout who stared at me, then glanced past me—eyes narrowing—her porcelain-doll face going serious as she started in my direction.
Maybe it was the way she held herself. The biting of her luscious bottom lip. The gentle sway of those shapely hips. Or maybe it was the hip-hugging jeans and white, scoop-neck, long-sleeved tee showing off all her curves that did it. But she had this combination good-girl-next-door with a hint of wild-in-the-sack vixen vibe going on.
Filthy images of what I could do to muss her up raced through my head at supersonic speed.
I was ready to give her my best smile. Flirt a little. Maybe get her phone number. And I was just about to do all of that when without hesitation she stepped up to me, popped up on her tiptoes, tossed her arms around my neck, pressed those soft, full tits into my hard chest and smashed her plush, pink lips against mine.
All right. I’d had my fair share of women hit on me, and do that shit hard, but a woman literally throwing herself against me and taking charge without so much as a hello? Well, that was a first. When it came to the fairer sex, I took the lead. Regardless, though, I wasn’t stopping her. In fact, screw introductions. I didn’t need any.
Groaning, my right hand grabbed the back of her neck—fingers tangling into the strands of her silky hair. My other hand, still holding my wet shirt, went to her ass and pulled her even tighter into me.
She made a little mew of sound which turned into a throaty moan—her smaller frame melting into me as I plunged my tongue into her mouth, tasting an explosion of cool mint and womanly desire.
Yeah. I was full-on frenching someone I didn’t know—deep penetration style—while in front of Pops, Joe, and the entire swell of weekenders at Oktoberfest.
Obviously, I didn’t care.
Both my brain and body agreed. It was time to get down and dirty. This became apparent when all the blood I possessed rushed to my dick, and I ground myself into her pelvis. It didn’t matter where we were. It didn’t matter the woman in my arms was a stranger. Nothing in the world did but the feel, smell, and taste of her.
I needed more. More touching, tasting…just more.
Awareness seeped into my ‘need woman now’ mindset when she let go of me and pressed a palm to my bare shoulder, attempting to push me away.
Definitely get her number became the thought overtaking me as she stopped our rigorous game of tonsil hockey and stepped back, breaking my hold.
Staring down into the most exquisite pair of navy-blue eyes, I was struck mute. That was new as well. I’d never before been tongue-tied over a woman. Not only was I silent, but it also seemed I lost my ability to move.
Part of me understood I probably looked like a complete dumbfuck, standing there in front of our booth with a raging hard-on, shirtless, and goddamned speechless, but I just couldn’t pull my gaze from her.
A rosy hue started at her chest, crawled up her neck, and swept across her cheeks. She placed her fingertips on her kiss-swollen lips, whispered “Sorry,” spun around, and took off like the devil and all his minions were on her trail.
Her leaving so abruptly snapped me out of my stupor, and all my faculties crashed back in place with a jolt to my system. Rebooting me.
“Hey! Wait!” I called out, reaching. “Don’t go. What’s your name?”
All I caught was thin air and a peek of her shoulder as she blended into the crowd.
Where to Buy
About the Author
London Saint James has lived in many places but never felt ‘at home’ until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.
As an award-winning, international bestselling author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.
A complete list of London’s books can be found on her website http://www.londonsaintjames.com. You can also e-mail London with any questions or comments at London@londonsaintjames.com. She loves to hear from her readers.
Would you like to know more? Join her mailing list for her monthly newsletter http://eepurl.com/6P2on. Or, join her book group on Facebook, Slip Between the Pages with London https://www.facebook.com/groups/SlipBetweenthePageswithLondon/
Woohoo, I’m kicking off 2019 with a double re-release! My first publications in January will be two novelettes I originally wrote for Evernight Publishing back in 2013; the rights reverted back to me in 2018, and I’m currently in the process of re-editing them and putting them together for release with Belaurient Press.
The first story, A Boon by Moonlight, is my “boy meets Sidhe/boy asks Sidhe for boon/Sidhe asks for night in boy’s bed” piece. This one has a special place in my heart because I dearly want to go out drinking with these two (Zach could be our designated driver, and Jerrek would throw back vodka like it was water and provide running snarky commentary on everyone else in the bar. It would be great). The re-release will also include the unpublished short story “Snow Day” featuring Zach and Jerrek housebound antics during a polar vortex, so there’s some added value there. It should be out on 1/15 so if you’ve never read this one before you can pick it up then.
And may I just say that I’m freaking in love with this new cover? It screams M/M fantasy romance to me (I still can’t believe I’m writing fantasy romance, but my God it’s fun). Finding the stock image of the model in fantasy garb was a real gift, and the other model works with him extremely well. I may do a couple more tweaks to the image before release day, but what you see here is primarily the finished product.
Oh, funny but true story about the cover — I sent it to a couple of writer friends for feedback. One of them writes SF/fantasy and said, “This is for a fantasy romance story? Because the woman on the right looks like a Vulcan.” I had to explain about Jerrek, after which she said, “Ohhh. In that case, it looks great.” *grin*
The other re-release is Grading the Curve, my “hot for teacher” novelette. Whereas I can get Boon out next week, Curve won’t be out for another two weeks because 1) hoo boy, I learned a lot about characterization and backstory in the last five years, which means 2) this 13K novelette is about to become a 30K novella as I gleefully apply both the Editorial Machete and the Storytelling Spackling Knife with a freaking vengeance (seriously, I re-read the original MSS and was deeply grateful that it sank without a trace. It’s not horrible, mind you, but it was clear I had no idea how to write a good, solid MF romance at that time).
The eagle-eyed among you may have noted the extra name on this cover and want to know who the heck Natasha Stark is. Well, she’s me — as of 2019 I’m using that nom de plume for all of my contemporary romances (and yes, there will be more of them — I’ve got at least four romcoms in mind), and this is my way of introducing her. It’s mainly for marketing purposes, since there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of overlap between contemporary romance readers and SF/fantasy/PN romance readers. I want to make it easy for people to find (and ideally buy) what they want to read, so SF, fantasy, or paranormal romance readers can stick with Nicola’s books, and contemporary romance readers can focus on Natasha’s books.
Oh, God. I’m going to have to set up a totally separate website/social media presence at some point for Natasha, aren’t I? I need a drink…
Meanwhile I’m also working on King of Blades (Two Thrones 4) and Natasha’s next romcom, tentatively titled Screen Kiss, so those should be out in March or so. So many books to write, so little time…
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Elena Kincaid’s hot new contemporary romance The Beast in a Suit, now available from Evernight Publishing and other retailers of online romance. Take it away, Elena!
Thanks so much for hosting The Beast In A Suit (A Contemporary Tale). This story is an office romance with a modern twist on a classic tale and the first in a brand new series. The rest of the series will take on a different fairy tale and continue with the office romance theme.
She’s no damsel. He’s no prince. Can their love still be strength enough to save them both?
Twenty years later, and the hole inside Emeline’s soul only got bigger, mourning the loss of her mother and brother and what could have been. A stranger comes along with changes to a career she loves, but will it be for the better and will he end up changing her, too?
Adam has been closed off to the world for nearly two decades, existing but not living. He doesn’t even realize the shell of a man he’s become until a woman he’s slowly falling for makes him examine his own reflection.
A modern twist on a classic tale filled with desire, passion, and one dangerous obsession.
“You’re firing me?”
“Of course not,” he replied adamantly, finally turning to face her. “I meant what I said before. You’re very valuable to this company and you’ve more than proven it. I also meant it when I told you that you would do great on your own. I don’t want you to leave.” He took her hand in his. “I want nothing more than for you stay, but I don’t want to hold you hostage. That was unfair of me. Please, forgive me.”
The truth was, she had forgotten about his threat. With the way he turned the company around along with giving her his friendship, not to mention the fact that she was in love with him, she was happy there again. She hadn’t thought about quitting or about going out on her own. The fact that he remembered and was apologizing for it and even willing to let her go without any repercussions stunned her. She had already forgiven him a while ago.
She watched a sly smile form on his lips, a devilish gleam in his eye. “No one should have to work for an asshole.”
“Good thing I no longer think of you as an asshole.” She glanced down at their joined hands. “I would like to stay.”
“You would?” He sounded surprised, hopeful even, and the look on his face confirmed it when she raised her head.
“And what about you, Adam?” she asked. “Do you intend to stay?” She knew it was a premature question, given the fact that it would be some time before he could present a tempting sale, but she felt like she needed to know if he even considered the possibility of actually keeping the company and running it himself.
He reached out and toyed with a strand of her hair. “I’d gotten so used to working with soulless corporations, people who wouldn’t hesitate to stab each other in the back. I guess you can say I’m pleasantly surprised. Publishing Enchanted is more than a company. It’s a family.”
“You’re part of it now.”
“And I don’t think I want to give that up.” He let go of her hair and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “I have too many reasons to stay.”
They were so close now, their faces mere inches apart. Emeline couldn’t even remember how they had gotten there, but now she only wanted to be closer. “Adam,” she whispered, right before he closed the final distance between them and kissed her.
His kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if gauging her reaction, but when she wrapped her arms around him, he deepened it, moaning into her mouth as their tongues finally met and entwined. Finally, she got her wish and fisted her hand in his thick locks. His hair was soft, just as she’d imagined. Even his beard was soft against her skin. And God, he was such a great kisser, exploring her mouth thoroughly, lips and tongues feverishly connecting.
It was her turn to moan when he pulled her onto his lap and his hands began to roam down her back, her arms, and skimming down the sides of her breasts. He stopped kissing her lips long enough to move down to her jaw, her neck, and then all the way down to that deep V in the center of her cleavage, eliciting another, much louder, moan from her.
She was so lost in him, she hadn’t even realized at first that they were no longer moving, had no idea when they had stopped. Adam took notice of it, too, and paused his attentions to her. They were both panting as they stared at one another, and this time it was Emeline who leaned in and kissed him. She whispered, “Stay,” against his lips, the ache inside her for him too great to be able to part with him.
He practically growled in response and the two of them poured months of longing into their next kiss.
“I’m going to devour every single inch of you,” he said.
Where to Buy
About the Author
Elena Kincaid is an award-winning and Amazon best-selling author. She writes Paranormal and Contemporary Romances with alpha males who stop at nothing to protect their women, heroines who are anything but damsels in distress, and stories where the only love worth fighting for is the forever kind of love.
She was born in Ukraine and raised in New York, where she currently lives with her daughter. Her desk is constantly cluttered with journals, sticky notes, and torn-out pieces of paper full of ideas. When not working, Elena loves to spend time with her family, travel the globe, curl up with a good book, and catch up on her shows.
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, darlings! Today I’m featuring Paige Warren writing as Harley Wylde and her smouldering new MC romance Badger, coming from Changeling Press on August 3 and now available for pre-order. Take it away, ladies!
Badger – I went to prison for ten years after beating a man to death. He deserved it, and then some. I only wish he’d suffered more. Now I’m free, but things aren’t the same as when I left. The little girl I once saved is now a tempting young woman with curves in all the right places. I should stay away, far away, but I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The Pres of my club adopted her, so she’s definitely a no-fly zone, but fuck if I don’t want her with every breath I take. A little sample wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? As long as Griz doesn’t find out, I’ll keep breathing. Sneaking around should be easy enough. I never counted on falling for her, or finding out she was carrying my kid. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m a long-time repeat offender. I can’t walk the straight and narrow. Can I?
Adalia – I’ve worshiped Badger ever since the night he saved me. But what started as a young girl’s infatuation has grown into something more. I know he’ll never see me that way, or at least I thought he wouldn’t. When we’re together, it’s like we just can’t keep our hands off each other. It’s probably against his parole for us to be together, but he doesn’t seem to care. The heat between us is undeniable. He didn’t promise me forever, just right now. But neither of us counted on me getting pregnant, something that wasn’t supposed to happen too easily, and I have no freakin’ clue what to do. I’m scared Badger will run for the hills. He never asked for this, but then neither did I. One thing is for certain. If he doesn’t man up and my daddy finds out, there will be hell to pay.
No one can hide from the President of the Devil’s Fury MC.
The trip back to Blackwood Falls took too fucking long, and I was feeling anxious. It had been a long damn time since I’d been in a vehicle, and I’d much rather have spent the hour-long ride on my Harley. Soon enough, I’d take it out on the open road, and just let the tension melt away. The only thing sweeter than a ride on my bike was being between a woman’s thighs.
As Demon stopped outside the clubhouse, he tensed and turned to face me. I had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth, but something told me it wasn’t anything I wanted to hear.
“There’s something you need to know,” Demon said.
“Anyone die while I was gone?”
“No. It’s about Adalia.”
My breath froze in my lungs as I pictured her wide blue eyes as they’d stared at me in terror. I’d found her in an alley, her clothes torn, and some asshole raping her. I’d seen her around town, knew she was only thirteen, just a kid. Something inside me had snapped, and I’d beat the fuck out of that asshole. Beat him to death. I didn’t regret what I’d done, only wished I’d gotten there sooner. Adalia had watched as I killed that man, and she hadn’t uttered a word the entire time. Not even when I took her to the hospital to be checked out. I’d known it wouldn’t end well for me, but my first priority had been the girl. Anyone else might have gotten off with a lighter sentence, seeing as how I’d been protecting her. But a guy like me with priors? I hadn’t had a prayer. Ten years to give her the peace of mind that the asshole who had touched her was six feet under? Yeah, it was a trade I’d been willing to make. I’d made it then, and even knowing I’d get time, I’d do it again in a second.
I might be an asshole biker with a rap sheet, but there were some things that even I wouldn’t tolerate. Rape was one of them. Anyone harming a kid was another, and that dickweed had done both. As far as I was concerned, the world was a better place without him in it.
“What about her?” I asked.
She’d be twenty-three now. Probably had a steady job, a nice boyfriend. At least, I hoped that’s how her life had turned out. But the way Demon had said her name… had something happened to her while I was gone? Had some other asshole tried to hurt her, and I hadn’t been around to save her this time? My gut clenched just thinking anything bad had happened to her. She’d been such a sweetheart the few times I’d been around her, always a little on the quiet side.
“She’s here,” Demon said quietly.
My heart started pounding, and I flung open the truck door, then reached for my cut and shrugged it on. I slammed the door shut and stomped up the clubhouse steps before going inside. There were balloons and shit everywhere, and the roar of welcome as I stepped inside was near deafening. But as I scanned the crowd, it wasn’t my brothers I was taking in… No, I was looking for her. I didn’t know what she looked like anymore, only remembered her as a teenage girl. She’d been terrified the last time I’d seen her. I didn’t know why she was here, but I had to see her, to know that she was okay. I’d thought about her every fucking day that I was inside, hoping she’d been able to get past what happened to her, had gone on to live a good life. I’d thought about writing her once, just to check on her, but had decided it was best if I kept away. She didn’t need any reminders from me about what had happened to her.
My brothers hugged me, slapped me on the back, and slowly they all parted. At the back of the room stood a pixie of a woman, long blonde hair curling over her shoulders, and a body made for sinning. It was her eyes that nailed my feet to the floor. Blue. And achingly familiar. My gaze traced her features, trying to find the little girl I’d tried to save. I didn’t see even a hint of the terrified teen I’d carried out of that alley. Her features were delicate, much like the rest of her. She had curves in all the right places, and would likely be more than a handful for some men, but I’d be willing to bet she wouldn’t even reach my shoulder. Tiny. Almost like a little fairy. Slowly, Adalia walked toward me, her hips swaying with every step. Yeah, she’d grown up while I was gone, and I’d be willing to bet men fell to their knees to worship at her feet. She looked like one of those plus-sized models, but in a shorter package.
She didn’t even hesitate when she reached me, just put her arms around my neck and hugged me tight. My arms closed around her, pulling her curves against me, and I breathed in her honeysuckle scent. Closing my eyes, I just drank in the moment. She was here. She was safe. And she felt a little too damn good pressed against me. The way my jeans tightened made me want to put some distance between us. I tried like hell to keep the image of her as a thirteen-year-old girl in my mind, hoping my body would stop reacting to the woman she’d grown into, but no such luck. The breasts pressing against me were more than a handful and far too fucking tempting, as was the rest of her.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she said, her voice soft and husky.
“It’s good to see you, pretty girl. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.”
“I tried to come see you a few times, but they always said you weren’t allowed visitors.”
I pulled away and smiled down at her. “I had a tendency to get into trouble inside. But now I’m glad you didn’t get any farther than the gates. Prison is no place for an angel like you.”
Her cheeks flushed and she smiled a little. “Welcome home, Badger.”
Where to Buy
Roosters is a multi-author series of stand-alone stories released by Changeling Press. Each book contains an arrogant, alpha hero in a contemporary romance setting. While Badger is an MC romance, not all of the Roosters books fall under this theme. You can find the other Roosters books by clicking here.
About the Author
Award-winning author Paige Warren spends her days weaving tales about alpha males and the women who love them. There’s nothing hotter than a man in tight Wranglers, dog tags (especially if he’s ONLY wearing dog tags!), or bad boys covered in ink. When Paige isn’t creating romantic tales, she enjoys reading and watching movies – romances, of course. If you see her out in the wild, you’ll most likely find her at Starbucks, sipping a white mocha with a distant look in her eyes as she figures out the right wording for the next scene in her latest book.
Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.
Harley is the bestselling author of the Dixie Reapers MC series. You can find her at harleywylde.com!
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m featuring one last snippet from To My Muse where Tom and Lily hit the big Hollywood party thrown by Sir Nathan. God, I had such a good time writing this book. In the coming weeks, I’ll be back to posting snippets from Shifter Woods: Snarl and Uncertainty Principle.
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
We heard the hum of party noise before we reached the main foyer. It was seriously different from my family’s parties—for one thing, there was a decided lack of Bollywood hits and I-pop blasting through the air, and waiters were walking around with trays of full champagne flutes. Not a single harried teenaged girl fetching some lassi for a thirsty auntie in sight. Dadi would be so disappointed in Sir Nathan.
Tom snagged a pair of flutes for us, passing one to me. “Drink up,” he advised. “It’ll make the evening a bit more enjoyable.”
I sipped my champagne. Naturally it was delicious. “Yeah, no, I’m still nervous,” I whispered after swallowing.
“Give it a chance to circulate.” He looped his arm around my waist and guided me towards the people standing in discreet groupings of two and three. “Smile and nod, darling.”
Great. Now I had the penguins from Madagascar caroling in my head. Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave. Biting back an insane urge to call Tom “Private,” I did as he suggested.
The damnedest thing was, it worked. Complete strangers nodded back at me, with the occasional assessing glance thrown in for good measure. Only this time the assessment added up to “one of us.” I felt Matthiu’s work on my face like a mask. They had no clue.
Tom led me through a thickening crowd into the main entertainment area that I’d seen last night. All the lights were on this time, set to low, and the room was full of people chatting to each other with the occasional laugh sparkling in the air. Underneath the chatter was a soft medley of cocktail bar classics coming from the grand piano in the corner.
To my surprise, Sir Nathan was playing it. “Thought so,” Tom murmured, guiding me over. “You couldn’t resist performing, could you?” he said to our host.
Sir Nathan gave us a genial smile as his fingers moved over the keyboard. “The pianist is taking a break, so I thought I’d fill in for him. You look lovely tonight, my dear,” he added to me.
I had to stop myself from curtseying. “Thank you, Sir Nathan. You look pretty spiffy yourself.”
He chuckled at that. “It’s all Ana’s doing. I’d look like a right scruff if it wasn’t for her. And you cleaned up well, lad.”
“Also Ana’s doing,” Tom said, glancing around. “Any hotspots I should know about?”
Sir Nathan peered at the crowed without losing a beat. “Rob Valentine from the network is here—you know him, I believe—and some of the European producers are drifting around as well. I haven’t seen the lovely Claudine yet, but I’m sure we’ll hear the trumpets once she arrives.”
I knew I liked him. “Where’s Ana?” I asked.
“Giving the caterers their final instructions, then she planned on holding court in the Tuscan Room. You should be able to find it,” he said to Tom.
“I may need a GPS, but I’ll find it,” Tom said acerbically. “We’ll let you get back to tinkling the ivories.”
Sir Nathan swung into a jazzy version of “Piano Man” as we wandered off. “Okay, so what’s the plan?” I asked as quietly as I could.
“We circulate, chat with the people I know, and casually strike up conversations with various producers and studio execs,” Tom explained. “I’ll mention that we have a package we’re putting together with Nathan and feed them the elevator pitch. Hopefully that’ll be enough to get me some meetings, and then we build from that.”
I knew what an elevator pitch was—a brief but catchy overview of a plot meant to be delivered in thirty seconds or less: ‘She’s a rich girl engaged to an abusive capitalist, he’s a poor artist looking forward to a future in America. Against all odds they fall in love, but an iceberg crashes into their plans as well as their ship.’ That’s a crappy version of an elevator pitch for Titanic, but you get the idea. “So what’s the pitch for Right Hand?”
He spread his hands. “After World War II, a progressive pope shocks the Vatican by taking a nun as his chief advisor,” he announced.
I considered it. “Eh.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, it’s factually true but there’s no oomph to it. How about, ‘As Europe rebuilds from the ruins of World War II, a rebellious Pius XII shocks the Vatican by taking on an advisor they can’t control—a nun.”
He considered my phrasing. “But couldn’t they control her? I mean, if they talked to the head of her order.”
“Yeah, but if Pius was giving the orders he kind of outranks the head of her order. Okay, how about, ‘From the ruins of World War II, a controversial pope and a stubborn nun’s relationship will shock the Vatican—and change the world forever.’”
“I like it. Naughty enough to get people’s attention without tipping over into outright salaciousness. We can go into details about the relationship once they’re interested.” He kissed my temple. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I felt warm all over, which was a good thing because the house AC was cranked to handle the crowd. “So am I.”
Powered by Linky Tools
Click here to view this Linky Tools list…
Whee, it’s Wednesday! Never fear, for today I’m here with J.R. Gray and his smouldering new royal romance King Consort, now available from online sellers. Take it away, J.R.!
Avoiding sleeping with women was my specialty, an art form even. As the future King of England I couldn’t be caught sleeping with men. My whole life played out in front of the paparazzi, and they didn’t miss a thing.
I had a carefully crafted womanizing persona to maintain. My life came with rules, all of which I broke when I couldn’t resist a one night stand with the enemy: A beautiful paparazzo with a heart of gold. He may be the only person who doesn’t want me for my title, and he can never be anything more than my secret.
But secrets have a way of coming out and not only will they scare him away, but they’ll lose me the crown.
He sat back keeping the camera in his lap. “How much liberty are you giving me?”
I mirrored him and looked him over, taking my time with my answer. “Why are you asking.”
Lust crossed through his gaze. “Take off the shirt.”
I obliged him, slowly working my fingers down the buttons. I slid it off and set it aside. He looked me over, hungry. My cock stirred at the look. I’d never felt so desired by another person. He slid forward on the seat and brought the camera back to his face. I stayed as I was until he told me to move.
“Sit on the edge of the table,” he said breathless.
I was glad this was getting to him as much as it was me. It was entirely foreign to give someone such a thing over me. To allow someone to take these photos. It was daring and exhilarating. I’d have to be careful or I’d get addicted to the acting out like some bored teenager.
I sat on the edge to the table closest to the fire and he moved back to take a few shots. I looked up when he hadn’t said anything in a few moments to find him just watching me. The fire illuminated his scar, and I wanted to kiss the length of it, from his brow to his lips. I licked my lip and my chest rose as I inhaled fully, trying to calm myself. He snapped another photo.
“What do you see?” I asked unable to stand wondering a moment longer. I wanted to know how he saw me.
“I see hunger,” he said as he came closer. “The way you look at me.” The camera hung at his side as he stalked closer.
I wanted to reach out for him. To shove him into the chair he’d occupied and climb on top of him, but I refrained because more than wanting him, I wanted to see what he did.
“Take your pants off.”
I raised a brow but didn’t say more.
Where to Buy
About the Author
When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it’s half assumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.