New Release and Giveaway! SEDUCED BY SIN by Kris Rafferty (An Unlikely Hero #3)


Seduced by Sin
by Kris Rafferty
An Unlikely Hero #3
Publication Date: March 20, 2017
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Select, Contemporary, Romantic Suspense

SYNOPSIS:

When Caleb Smith saved Francesca Hamilton from a nasty situation with her father, she was beyond grateful. Sure, it landed her in Caleb’s bed wearing his engagement ring, but neither of them took that seriously. It was a means to an end, and he was so sexy and exciting, she was enjoying the ride. It wasn’t Caleb’s fault her feelings were changing, leaving her wishing things between them were real rather than pretend.

Caleb took the FBI’s assignment because he wanted to end the tyranny of a man who’d hurt the people he loved. Odds of success were slim and the danger high, but he knew the risks. Francesca didn’t and was completely in the dark about her family’s “business.” And the more time he spends with her, the harder he falls for the gorgeous blonde. But to finally get retribution, he’ll have to destroy her world…

Excerpt:

The party was a loud, glittery event that had to have cost the annual income of, at least, a highly paid lawyer.  It was stunning, exciting, and if someone lit fireworks in the huge ballroom, Caleb Smith wouldn’t have been surprised, but it wouldn’t have impress him either.

She did, though.  Across the crowded room of milling guests, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her…the hostess, Francesca Hamilton.  That she’d noticed and liked it tapped into a thrilling, primal possessiveness he couldn’t remember ever having felt before. She shook her head, cascading long curls over bare shoulders, and then licked her lips.  Her strapless, black dress revealed lots of leg, a tiny waist, and seemed to cover her breasts by dint of will.  She looked comfortable in her skin…and dress. Whereas, Caleb hated his tuxedo and patent leather shoes that pinched.  His collar and bowtie strangled, and he couldn’t wait to exchange it for his black jeans, T-shirt and roomy biker boots.  Francesca liked it, though, if her lingering gaze over his chest, and abs was any indication.  When her hot perusal settled somewhere in the vicinity of his cummerbund, her gaze had the effect of a caress, stabbing his gut with a jolt of desire.

Her gaze lifted, and locked with his.  The crowd faded away and it felt as if Francesca and he were alone in her father’s ballroom, the distance between them a temporary challenge, soon to be overcome.  Tonight was the culmination of a week of wooing, and his patience was thin, his mark squarely at bull’s eye.

Francesca was the full package, and Caleb had spent more than one night this week thinking about her when he should have been sleeping.  He’d instead lay awake, unsettled, imagining her wrapped around him, naked, and sweet-smelling…it made his mouth go dry just thinking about it.

Holding her gaze, Caleb sipped bourbon from the thin, cut glass, purposefully telegraphing his sensual thoughts, ready to rein in his intensity at the first sign of hesitancy.  He was thrilled when her eyes instead widened with excitement, her lush lips parted, and when the man at her side touched her arm to gain her attention, she startled.  And her breasts, barely restrained by satin, jiggled.  Yes—he took a deep, calming breath—they jiggled.

The urge to cross the ballroom to force her companion to back off was overwhelmingInsane, in fact.  Caleb had begun to think of Francesca as his.  It wasn’t true.   And this lack of mental discipline didn’t bode well; wanting Francesca Hamilton to the point of pain, wanting to make love to her, longing to witness her succumbing to ecstasy in his arms, to taste her as she fell.  That was not cool and indicted he was losing perspective. Seducing Francesca into desiring him, and desiring her in turn, were two very distinct things, and he needed to make sure one didn’t get in the way of the other.

From the moment he arrived at this party, Caleb was on target, wasting no time as he zeroed in on Francesca, calculating when best to approach.  His focus had been absolute—seek her gaze, send his signal, and hope she’d be brave enough to bite the lure he dangled.

BUY:


ABOUT KRIS RAFFERTY:

Kris Rafferty was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the youngest of four in a rambunctious Irish-American family. She became obsessed with books early on, and remembers her first library adventure. She wrote her first story when she was six and never stopped. She received her BA at U/Mass Boston, married the love of her life, has three perfect children, and earned her third degree black belt in Parker American Kenpo Karate. She plays classical piano, loves road trips, and is a fanatic for warm water ocean. If she’s not writing, she’s reading all sorts of romance. Ms. Rafferty lives happily ever after in North Carolina, writing.

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Excerpt Reveal and Giveaway! WALK OF SHAME by Lauren Layne (A Love Unexpectedly novel)

The City’s HOTTEST Cold War!

WALK OF SHAME
a Love Unexpectedly novel
Lauren Layne
Releasing April 18th, 2017
Loveswept

Sparks fly between a misunderstood New York socialite and a cynical divorce lawyer in this lively standalone rom-com from the USA Today bestselling author of Blurred Lines and Love Story.
 
Pampered heiress Georgianna Watkins has a party-girl image to maintain, but all the shopping and clubbing is starting to feel a little bit hollow—and a whole lot lonely. Though Georgie would never admit it, the highlights of her week are the mornings when she comes home at the same time as her uptight, workaholic neighbor is leaving to hit the gym and put in a long day at the office.
Teasing him is the most fun Georgie’s had in years—and the fuel for all her naughtiest daydreams.
Celebrity divorce attorney Andrew Mulroney doesn’t have much time for women, especially spoiled tabloid princesses who spend more time on Page Six than at an actual job. Although Georgie’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s also everything Andrew resents: the type of girl who inherited her penthouse instead of earning it.
But after Andrew caps one of their predawn sparring sessions with a surprise kiss—a kiss that’s caught on camera—all of Manhattan is gossiping about whether they’re a real couple. And nobody’s more surprised than Andrew to find that the answer just might be yes.

 

 

Georgie

Tuesday morning

Let’s talk about five a.m. for a second.

Also known as the worst hour of the day, am I right?

Here’s why:

If you’re awake to see five in the freaking morning, it means one of a few things, all of them heinous.

Scenario one: You’re on your way to the airport for an early morning flight. Heinous.

Scenario two: You’ve been out all night, and now your vodka buzz is fading, and you’re just sober enough to realize that the rest of your day will likely involve Excedrin, carbs, and indoor voices. Heinous.

Scenario three: You’ve got a crap-ton on your mind, and you’re lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, hating your life. Maybe hating yourself a little bit, I dunno, who am I to judge? Heinous.

Now brace yourself, because scenario four is the most heinous of them all: You’re awake at five a.m. because you’re an uptight prick whose schedule is even more rigid than your posture, and your life is an endless string of working out, the corner office, repeat. You’re also likely the type of person who subsists on protein shakes and kale smoothies, and you have been known to utter the phrase the body is a temple, thus solidifying what we already knew about you.

You have no friends.

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

See, it’s five a.m., and I, Georgie Watkins, am . . . kind of excited about it.

I know. I know. Four months ago I’d have bet my favorite vintage Chanel bag that there was exactly zero chance I’d actually look forward to the ghoulish hour of five in the morning.

And yet here we are.

I guess you could say there’s a scenario five on reasons to be up this early.

“Good morning, Ramon,” I sing, pushing through the revolving doors of the luxury high-rise on 56th and Park, the place I call home.

The concierge/security guard/all-around good guy glances up and gives me a friendly smile. “Ms. Watkins. Good morning.”

Usually the massive front desk is a bustling, busy affair. Starting at around seven, an army of well-dressed concierges will be smoothly facilitating the needs of impatient residents, as tiny dogs let out sharp, high-pitched barks of greeting from their Louis Vuitton carriers.

But that’s later.

Right now, the luxurious lobby is mostly silent, with just the lone overnight guy working the front desk, holding down the fort until the day guys arrive to handle the morning crush.

My new Tory Burch clutch tucked into my armpit, I hold up the box in my hands and waggle my eyebrows. “Brought you something.”

Ramon’s smile grows wider, brown eyes lighting. “My wife says you’re going to make me fat.”

“Tell Marta that the dad bod is totally in style right now,” I say, setting the box of donuts on the counter and lifting the lid. “Unless, of course, you don’t want a maple bacon donut?”

Ramon is already reaching inside the box, shaking his head in reverence as he lifts the sugary treat. “Still warm.”

“Well, technically the shop doesn’t open until five, but I’m such a loyal customer, they let me in a bit early,” I say, surveying the array of donuts and trying to decide if I’m in a chocolate kind of mood or if I want to risk the powdered sugar one.

Since my Alexander McQueen minidress is black (the archnemesis of powdered sugar), I reach for the chocolate as I set my clutch on the counter and fish out my phone: 4:58 a.m.

Two more minutes.

“How’s Marta dealing with the pregnancy of baby number three?” I ask, taking a bite of the donut and shifting attention back to Ramon, who’s already polished off his donut and is contemplating a second. I nudge the box toward him.

“She’s good,” he says. “Excited that we’re finally having a girl.”

“A girl!” I say, reaching across the counter and squeezing his massive forearm. “Congratulations, I hadn’t heard!”

“Just found out yesterday,” he says with a happy smile, apparently deciding that the occasion calls for another donut.

“Oh my gosh, I have the perfect baby gift,” I say, nibbling at a piece of my donut. “I saw this adorable Burberry onesie in Bergdorf’s the other day, with this precious little red bow—”

“Yes, because that’s what every infant needs,” a low voice interrupts. “A four-hundred-dollar piece of fabric that needs to be dry-cleaned. Don’t be ridiculous, Georgiana.”

I don’t have to look at my clock to know what time it is.

Five o’clock.

On the dot.

Not even bothering to turn around, I roll my eyes as my red nails tear off another piece of donut and pop it into my mouth. “Ramon, do you think you could talk to maintenance about adjusting the temp? It just got a little cold in here.”

Ramon’s been working here long enough to know my request isn’t for real. He’s not even paying attention to me. He’s already set his donut aside and has straightened up, practically saluting the newcomer.

“Mr. Mulroney. Good morning, sir.”

“Mr. Ramirez.” The voice is low and serious, a touch impatient, although not quite rude.

You know that adage that you catch more flies with honey? I’m not so sure it’s true. I bring donuts to the front desk guys just about every morning, and they adore me. I know they do.

But they respect him.

Giving in to the inevitable, I finally let my eyes flick to the side, my gaze colliding with a stern brown scowl.

I put on my widest, sparkliest smile, only because I know it drives him crazy.

As always, I see a muscle in his jaw twitch as I flutter my eyelashes.

“Good morning, Andrew,” I say sweetly.

“Georgiana.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Only my late grandmother has ever called me that, and I’m pretty sure that’s because I was her namesake. Everyone else calls me Georgie. Well, okay, not everyone. Ramon and the other guys still insist on calling me Ms. Watkins, but I’m working on it. See: daily donuts.

I smile wider and push the box in Andrew’s direction. “Donut?”

His lip curls. In case you haven’t already gotten a read on this guy, he’s the type that sneers at donuts.

He lifts a boring black travel mug. “Already have my breakfast.”

“Blended-up quinoa sprinkled with a few bits of spinach and pretension?” I ask.

“Whey powder protein shake.”

“Sounds immensely satisfying.”

He takes a sip of the nastiness and watches me with cold brown eyes. “The body is a temple, Georgiana.”

There it is.

Full circle to my above commentary about what sort of people are up and about at five a.m.


Lauren Layne is the New York Times bestselling author of over a dozen romantic comedies.

A former e-commerce and web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated to New York
City in 2011 to pursue a full-time writing career.
 
She lives in midtown Manhattan with her high-school sweetheart, where she writes smart romantic comedies with just enough sexy-times to make your mother blush. In
LL’s ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books. 
 

 

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New Release! THANK YOU FOR HOLDING by Julia Kent and Elisa Reed

About THANK YOU FOR HOLDING

Having it all is a fantasy, right?

Carrie Shelton thought her boyfriend was too good to be true. Her best friend’s brother? A guy who loved antiquing? Who cuddled on the couch while watching foodie YouTube clips and talking about artisanal spices? Who helped her accessorize her outfits?

Right.

Fantasy.

So when he ran off with Kevin, the owner of an antique shop, right before his sister’s wedding, Carrie’s life went from fantasy to nightmare.

As maid of honor, she can’t back out of the wedding. And her ex is the best man – but now he has his own best man.

She needs a date. Stat.

Enter Ryan. Sure, he’s a hot male stripper at the O Spa where she works as junior designer, but he’s a few years younger and just, you know — a friend.

Perfect. She needs a friend more than she needs a boyfriend.

A weekend of playing her boyfriend so she can save face is a lot to ask, but for some reason Carrie doesn’t understand, Ryan’s all in. Enthusiastic, even.

Especially when it comes to physical displays of affection.

Public kisses turn to private confessions, and pretty soon, Carrie can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

Because if Ryan’s just pretending he’s in love with her, then why does the chemistry between them — and between the sheets — feel so real?

Carrie can’t settle for almost, though. She’s already done that. She’s not putting her life on hold anymore.

Turns out Ryan won’t, either.

He’s holding out for more.

Thank You For Holding is a STANDALONE in the On Hold series. You do not need to have read book 1 in the series, Our Options Have Changed, but after reading about Carrie and Ryan’s friends-to-lovers adventure, you’ll want to. 😉

Excerpt:

Diane is unwrapping candles. “So, Carrie,” she asks curiously, “I didn’t know you were dating Ryan. Is that new?”

Could there actually be someone at O who hasn’t heard the whole gruesome story? Must be because Diane’s in accounting; they’re on a different floor of the building, separated from daily spa operations.

“Pretty new,” I answer cautiously. I have to make this story believable. “You know, when Jamey broke up with me, I was a wreck. Ryan was totally there for me. He held my hand, and he listened no matter how long I went on, and he let me cry on his shoulder. He did all these really nice things to try to cheer me up.” 

So far, all true. 

I look at Diane’s face. This woman, a strong and successful executive, is listening with rapt attention, like a little girl hearing a fairy tale.

Because it is a fairy tale. 

“We were already friends, but then one day I just looked at him and realized that he’s the perfect guy for me.” Zeke’s script flashes in my brain. “I mean, I used to wonder sometimes what it would be like to, you know, be with him. But we were just good friends. I was dating Jamey. But then I wasn’t. Dating Jamey. Obviously.” 

“Ryan is so handsome,” she sighs. 

“He is,” I nod. “And he’s really smart, and funny. He makes me laugh, even when I’m in a bad mood.” This is also true. “He even braids my hair.”

“Wow,” Diane whispers. “It’s like it was meant to be. I wish something like this would happen to me.”

Ha. I wish something like this would happen to me, too.

“I always thought it would be incredible to date one of the O guys,” Angela comments. “You’d get professional massages for free, anytime! They know everything about a woman’s body. And just watching them dance, you can tell by the way they move that they’d be amazing in bed.” 

She looks at me for confirmation.

“Right!” I agree, not quite meeting her eye. “Ryan is amazing… in bed… he, um, does this thing with his tongue…” Here I stop short. I’m on shaky ground. I have no idea what he might do with his tongue, besides talk, eat ice cream, and slurp Tom Yum soup. 

Jamey didn’t even like to French kiss, never mind French-kissing anything below my waist.

Angela and Diane both sigh. So do I, but for a different reason.

And as if on cue for an O dance routine, Ryan appears in the door, with two bottles of wine tucked under one arm, a bottle of sparkling lemon water under the other, and four glasses in his hands. He’s wearing a navy jacket over a pale blue dress shirt, no tie. His light brown hair is brushed straight back and curls a little over his collar. Seeing him dressed like this, he looks different. He looks… manly is the only word for it.

What would he be like in bed? What lovely things might he do with his tongue?

We are all staring at him. He heads straight for me. “There’s my girl,” he says, setting the glasses down. I take the bottles from under his arm. “Working hard. Carrie makes every room more beautiful. Decorations not needed.” 

His hands now free, he takes my face and gently, lingeringly, kisses my lips. His breath is warm and delicious. I wobble a little bit on my heels. Who needs wine with kisses like that? Diane and Angela watch intently.

Don’t overplay it! I think, opening my mouth to say precisely that, but then I just moan. Even syllables won’t form.

He grins.

“I don’t want to distract you ladies from your work,” he says, pulling a corkscrew from his pocket. He twists it into the cork, which slides out with a little pop, and he pours the wine. As he hands me my glass, he runs his other hand slowly down my back. “I just wanted to be sure you have everything you need.” His voice drops low on the word ‘everything.’

“Thanks,” I answer faintly. “We’re good. I’m good.” 

“You sure are. ” He kisses me again, this time on my temple, his hand migrating down my waist, very publicly squeezing my ass. His palm is so warm. So big. Kinda rough. 

Funny. I never knew how good a little rough could be.

And with that, smiling, he takes his glass and leaves. 

Angela and Diane watch him go. Their mouths are open just a tiny bit. 

So is mine.

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About Julia Kent:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.

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About Elisa Reed

Elisa Reed is a journalist-turned-fiction-writer whose snappy, irreverent prose combines with an irrepressible zest for the simpler, and often intimate, pleasures of life to produce fun(ny) contemporary romance with a focus on second chances. New England born and bred, Elisa Reed now lives, writes, and plays in New Orleans and along the sugar sands of the Gulf Coast.

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New Release! A STAR TO STEER HER BY by Beth Anne Miller

A STAR TO STEER HER BY
by Beth Anne Miller
release date: March 20, 2017
Entangled Publishing, Embrace

 

About the book:

I’m scarred. Broken. I’ll never be the same.

But I will take this journey.

Ever since my last dive ended in bloodshed, I’ve been terrified to go back into the water. But the opportunity to spend a semester at sea is too good to pass up. I need to get my life back.

I never expected to love it this much. And I never expected Tristan MacDougall.

Rugged, strong, and with demons of his own, Tristan helps me find the courage I thought I had lost and heals me with every stolen moment we share. But the rules of the ship mean we can’t be together.

When a dive excursion goes terribly wrong, our only hope for survival is each other.

 

bamstartosteerherbybookcover500x750

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Excerpt:

He held my hand as we glided slowly around the reef. The euphoria I felt at actually getting under the water faded as I squinted into the distant blue haze, on constant lookout for…anything that might be lurking out there. It was utterly silent, except for the Darth Vader-like sound of our breathing. That was one of the things I’d always loved best about scuba diving, the silence of it. For a short time, I could leave behind the noise of the world above and get lost in the alien world beneath the sea. I’d missed it so much.

My fear began to slip away. The reef was a huge mass of life and motion. Tiny yellow fish nibbled on purple sponges, vividly colored parrotfish pecked at coral with their sharp beaks, blue-and-yellow angelfish swam lazily between sea fans. None of them seemed disturbed by our presence. They just went about their business.

I’d almost forgotten Tristan was there until he tapped my arm and pointed to a big hole in the coral, where a slimy green head emerged on a sinuous neck. It was a moray eel. It stared at us, its mouth opening and closing to reveal glimpses of curved, needle-thin teeth. Novice divers tended to be afraid of them because their teeth looked wicked sharp. But I’d been around them enough to know that they opened and closed their mouths to breathe, not to be aggressive (usually), and I watched it for a moment, unafraid.

We continued exploring, my eyes remembering how to see beyond the camouflage to find the animal. A crusty “rock” sitting on the bottom was a scorpionfish. A mound of sand turned out to be a flounder. I still searched the blue waters around us, but less frequently than before. I even let go of Tristan’s hand.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of silver. My heart started to pound. Take it easy, it’s probably a barracuda.

No, it wasn’t. Barracuda usually just hovered motionless in the water, seemingly menacing with their protruding teeth, but generally harmless to humans. This was moving quickly. And it was big. Where’d it go? I spun around.

There it was again, lurking just at the edge of my vision. Oh God, not again! Hiss-whoosh, hiss-whoosh. My breath came faster and faster.

I needed to get out of there.

 

About the author:

Beth Anne Miller’s first book, written in elementary school, was bound in pink fabric and was about—what else?—a girl and her horse. She soon began cheating on horses with the sea, becoming an open water scuba diver at age 14. That love of the sea led her to a college semester aboard a schooner. She returned with fond memories of the exhilaration of being on a ship under full sail, less fond memories of hurling over the leeward rail on a daily basis, and a sailing bug she couldn’t quite shake.

In addition to horses and the sea, she has a fascination for all things Scottish (including, but not limited to, men in kilts), which she explored with her first novel, INTO THE SCOTTISH MIST (The Wild Rose Press, 2011), and carried into her new novel, A STAR TO STEER HER BY (Entangled Embrace, March 2017). A native New Yorker, Beth Anne works in the publishing industry and is always looking ahead to her next voyage, whether a short one on a dive boat or whale watch, or, with luck, a longer one on a tall ship.

Connect with Beth Anne Miller:

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Release Day and Giveaway! THE TROUBLE WITH BACHELORS by Caitlyn Blue (Windy City Bachelors #1)

The trouble with bachelors is you never know.

THE TROUBLE WITH BACHELORS
Windy City Bachelors #1
Caitlyn Blue
Releasing March 21st, 2017
Sassy Muse, LLC
Falling for her sister’s first love, how could that possibly go wrong…
 
Zach Thorne is supposed to be off limits. He’s her sister’s high school boyfriend and his love life is a revolving door of women. He’s also handsome, sexy and the one guy Emma Callahan has never been able to forget.
 
Now they’ve been thrown together as best man and maid of honor for her sister’s wedding and some serious sparks are flying. Zach is perfect wedding fling material until he starts to take their romance seriously. Now, Emma is left wondering: is he for real or is she about to get her heart broken?
The trouble with bachelors is you never know.
 

“This was fun,” I murmur as his fingers coast over my cheek.

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ears and traces my jaw. It’s been a year since a man has touched me. And no one has ever caressed me like this. It’s like he’s trying to memorize my features. I’m enthralled. It’s hard to know what to do next, so I clutch my hands in my lap and stare at him. His eyes lock on my lips and I realize I’ve seized the lower one between my teeth.

His breath hisses out on a soft sigh. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”

“No.” It’s not the default word anyone uses when describing me.

“You are.”

How many women has he used this line on? Hundreds surely. He’s a player. A guy you sleep with not someone you date.

At the moment I’m standing at the line that separates the woman I am and the woman guys like Zach sleep with a few times and never call again. I can listen to my body and have several amazing orgasms to relive over and over, or I can listen to my heart, stay true to who I am and keep looking for a guy who can make me happy long term.

His fingers curve around the back of my neck. As he draws me forward, I ask, “Are you going to kiss me again?”

“I’d very much like to.”

This time his kiss is more direct. Firm and determined, he claims my lips and as his tongue darts forward, I open for him. He tastes like the striped peppermint candy we snagged on our way out of the restaurant.

The kiss quickly goes nova. Heat explodes in my midsection and lances downward as Zach’s hand curves over my knee. I clutch his shoulder, trembling with longing. Phrases spill through my mind. Naughty things I’d want to say to him. Images of taking him into my mouth again and making him cry out my name as he comes. I’ve forgotten that I’m not the type who has sex in cars. Right now, all I’m thinking is: yes, please, let’s do this.

Our tongues are dueling, my legs are parting and Zach’s hand is riding up my inner thigh when the phone in my lap buzzes with an incoming text. It’s close enough to my happy place that the vibration only adds to my arousal. I moan. Zach drags his lips from mine.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear it.”

As his other hand dips inside my coat, fingers gliding over my breast, it’s easy to moan again. Damn, he’s good at this. Trembling with need, I bite my lip as the urge to whimper builds. I shift my hips as my clit perks up and starts crying for attention. If he doesn’t touch me there I’ll go out of my mind.

A second text follows the first or maybe it’s just that reminder that I haven’t looked at the first one. Either way, it feels great. So does Zach’s mouth on my neck. And is that his teeth? I open my thighs, silently begging him to go higher. He’s so close. I’m so close.

Buzz.

I’m panting. He’s sucking on my earlobe. Shit. That’s amazing. His thumb grazes my nipple.

Buzz.

Buzz.

The hand beneath my skirt reaches the elastic on my panties and I shift my hips, pushing into his fingers. Can he feel how wet I am? A little higher, please.

Buzz.

Buzz.

The vibration is so constant it’s like a sex toy and I’m so close to getting off. Just a little bit more. His finger brushes over the soaked crotch my panties. The lightest of touch and my body is electrified.

“Fuck,” he mutters, tracing over my hot, aching core a second time. “These are soaked.”

A garbled noise emerges from my throat.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

And then Zach’s fingers are retreating and I groan in protest. “Um, do you need to get that?”

Get what?

Buzz.

Buzz.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I exclaim as Zach removes his lovely, clever hands from beneath my clothes.

He flops back against his seat with a hearty curse. Eyes closed, breathing hard, he shields his face as his shoulders move. Damn the man. He’s laughing.

Snarling, I pick up the phone and see at least a dozen texts from my cousins. Looking over at the house, I spy all three of them lined up at the living room windows. Well, what did I expect? I’m making out with Zach in front of our house. I might as well have set up a neon sign on the front lawn that says orgasms happening here. Almost happening…so close. A growl vibrates my chest.

“Your cousins?”

“Yes.”


Caitlyn Blue is a voracious reader with an overactive imagination and a chocolate addict. She loves fancy cocktails and tasty edibles, is a sucker for adventure movies and any music with a beat. When not writing, Caitlyn loves to connect with her readers for whom she’s extremely grateful. Join her VIP list to stay up to date on giveaways and exclusive offers.  
 

Release Day and Giveaway! THE BAD BOY NEXT DOOR by Jody Holford (Kendrick Place series)


The Bad Boy Next Door
by Jody Holford
Publication Date: March 20, 2017
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Bliss, Contemporary, Romance

SYNOPSIS:
Shay Matthews moved to Boston for a fresh start…new apartment, new job, new routine. After too many years being coddled by her overbearing older brothers, Shay’s ready for some freedom and maybe a nice, easygoing guy. She wasn’t expecting to literally run into the scowling, brooding, (and unfairly smoking hot) guy next door.

Fresh off a haunting undercover assignment, detective Wyatt Daniels is jaded about life, relationships, and especially happily-ever-after. But there’s something about the independent and beautiful Shay that makes him want to dig deeper. Or stay away, which is definitely the smarter option of the two.

But the more Shay tries to convince herself that her sweet building manager, Brady, is the guy for her, the more Mr. Completely Wrong-for-Her Wyatt invades her mind and her heart.

 

Excerpt:

What were they doing here? It was some weird version of chicken, and at the moment, neither of them were blinking.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.” Best to remind them both of that.

“I know,” he said, his tone both serious and solemn.

His hand stretched out, and his fingers caressed her cheek. Shay let her eyes drift closed while she breathed

slowly through her nose. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and stepped back. She didn’t mean it as an invitation, but that’s how he took it. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

“I told you I was going to be shit at this friend thing.”

Shay clasped her hands together to keep them from reaching out and stroking his body. They very much wanted to do that because they didn’t understand, the way her brain did, that it would be a worse idea than him being here.

“You’re actually very good at it. You’re funny and kind. A bit overprotective, but I think that’s got as much to do with your job as your nature,” she said.

Wyatt’s lips pursed together like he was holding back a sarcastic retort. “Thanks. I guess I meant I’m not very good at it with you.”

Her heart skittered to a stop. “Oh.”

Had he come to tell her he didn’t even want friendship? He clearly didn’t want more, since he’d all but turned away from her when she kissed him.

“I can actually see your brain turning over a bunch of wrong ideas.”

Crossing her arms in front of her, as if that gesture could protect her heart, she continued to stare at him.

He stepped closer. “I don’t want to be friends.”

Like a knife through a tire, his words slashed her heart. “Fine.”

Another step. Shay took one backward as he warned, “I’m no good for you.”

Her hands dropped to her sides. “So you’ve said.”

“Friends don’t generally think about each other nonstop.”

How did he know she did that? Or did he mean him? “I don’t think about you that often. You’ve got a big ego.”

Another step forward for him and another back for her. His lips tipped up in amusement. “I mean me. I’m not

thinking of you like a friend.”

Shay paused mid-step. “Oh? Just like an annoying neighbor?”

He smiled now. “No. Not that either.”

They were standing in the hallway center. If she moved to the right, they’d end up in her living room. The left would lead them to her bedroom.

She stood still. “Then what?”

“I’m not sure yet, but you should probably tell me to get lost.”

Shay’s lips twitched. “I don’t want to,” she admitted.

This time, when he stepped forward, she didn’t move. “I don’t want you to.”

The air between them was a heavy blanket of lust she wanted to crawl underneath.

 

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ABOUT JODY HOLFORD

Jody Holford is a multi-published author who has a soft spot for happily ever after. So much so, she tattooed the words on her arm. She’s a mom and a wife, a friend, sister, daughter, teacher, and book-lover. Her stories have a little bit of heat and a lot of heart. And maybe, some swoon-worthy moments that will make you smile.

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Release Day and Giveaway! WE SAID FOREVER by Marie James

Title: We Said Forever
Author: Marie James
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 15, 2017
Blurb:

Rock bottom.They say the only way to go from there is up, but what is “up” when you’re born into someone else’s rock bottom?

At ten, football became my first love. It’s what got me out of the house away from my self-destructive family. My love for football landed me at Las Vegas University with a full ride scholarship, and the orange on my jersey was my favorite color…until my eyes landed on the red dress Fallyn wore the night we met.

At twenty-one, I jumped off the cliff into the unknown the second Fallyn McIntyre danced in my arms at a party. I had the greatest girl in the world and the opportunity to play college ball every Saturday. My rock bottom was looking up, thanks to my two first loves.

Parties, sex, and football—life was perfect. But one drink too many, and my world came crashing down. When I chose pills over my second love, my head told me it was the best decision I ever made. The pills keep me warm and protect me from the distance Fallyn created. Percs don’t judge me. They make me feel alive. 

Threes.

They say the best things come in threes, but one leads to a stable future, one is my salvation, and the other drags me to hell—a hell I’d willingly burn in for eternity…if it weren’t for my second love.

 
Excerpt:

Turning to face the guy who is either too stupid or too drunk to take a hint, my eyes land on the handsome face of a tall blond with the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.The smirk on his face clearly indicates he believes I should be impressed. And I am. There’s no doubt about it. I’m completely fascinated by the ego this douchebag emits with one simple look. Without a word, I let my eyes trail from the top of his purposely mussed hair that probably took longer to fix than mine to the orange chucks adorning his big feet.

He allows the perusal, awaiting my approval. Cocking an eyebrow at his blatant, pompous attitude, I push his hands off my hips.

“Not a chance, buddy,” I say before turning back toward the kitchen.

My legs tremble, wobbling on my already unsteady heels. I release a long, slow breath, hoping he disappeared into the crowd. The last thing I need is for him to notice the way my eyes lingered on his stubbled jaw and the muscles of his chest even his clothes can’t hide. I’m almost certain he could sense my quick, unmasked arousal. One look was all it took for this man to creep his way under my skin and throb in my core. He’s got self-entitled, bad boy, asshole written all over him—character traits I would have dropped anything for a few years ago. Not today, though. Those are flaws I left in Utah when I graduated high school.

The same firm grip reaches for me again, wrapping all the way around my body and pulling my back against an incredibly strong chest.

I close my eyes for a moment, allowing only a second of contact before turning around and readying my hand to slap him across the face for taking such liberties without my permission—just another alpha asshole attribute that used to make me swoon.

“You need to get your—”

His finger covers my lips, preventing me from getting my words out. My attempt at what I’m sure was going to be a very eloquent threat against his manhood falters as he pulls me closer to his body. His leg somehow finds its way between mine as he squats a couple inches to decrease the differences in our height.

The strong hand that has reached for me twice tonight is around my back, fingers splayed against the thin red fabric. The finger that halted my words trails down the column of my damp neck before gripping around at my nape. Gooseflesh follows the trail, racing over my fevered skin. He holds me against him, guiding me to the rhythm I hated until this very second. Like the traitorous slut she is, my body molds against him, every soft inch against his hardness.

“I don’t,” I begin again, only to have his hand leave my neck to push another finger against my parted lips.

I watch, enthralled and utterly stupid, as his bottom lip rolls between his teeth at the same time his thumb sweeps over mine.

I cave, wholeheartedly capitulating to the moment. Ignoring the warning bells going off in my head, screaming at me to bolt through the front door and not look back, I grip the silky athletic fabric of his jersey and pull him closer. A knowing grin lights his face and sparkles in the crystal blue of his eyes.

One song blends into another as our bodies close every millimeter of distance. No words are spoken as the countdown begins. No promises are made when the clock strikes midnight. No way I’ll survive this man when his breath becomes mine. No chance I’ll see him again when swaying all night turns into dancing tongues. No possibility of keeping my promise of no bad boys when one hand grips my nape and the other squeezes my ass.

Alcohol has never really been my thing. The memory of the first time I drank heavy liquor in high school is enough to make my stomach sour, but the bourbon on this guy’s lips is the perfect mix of sweet and spicy. It’s, hands down, the most satisfying thing I’ve tasted since the ice cream I had after getting my tonsils removed when I was seven. I savor every fraction of a second, every slow glide of his tongue against mine, each time his lips pull back a fraction and turn up to smile against mine.

Without so much as one spoken word, this man has managed to master my body, persuading it to beg for more, coaxing whimpers from my mouth when he pulls away, only to ensure it pants a seductive moan when those skilled lips find my neck.

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Author Bio:
Marie James is a full-time working mother of two amazing little boys and wife of almost 13 years. She enjoys reading in her spare time, and diet coke is always near. Central Texas is where Marie calls home and has lived most of her life. With 13 published books under her belt, she has no desire to stop writing anytime soon and has dozens of book ideas to keep her busy.
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New Release and Giveaway! A LIMITED ENGAGEMENT by Bethany Michaels

About the Book:

Derek Sawyer, sexiest bad boy on the racing circuit, is about to land a huge sponsor. The only problem is the oil baron’s daughter wants to make Derek part of the deal. Worried he’ll offend the old billionaire if he rejects his daughter, Derek comes up with the perfect plan—pretend he’s already engaged to his friend Lilly.

Lilly Harmon used to daydream about her childhood crush Derek proposing to her…but not like this. Of course, she just lost her boyfriend and her job, so her five-year plan is already smashed to hell. Pretending to be with Derek might help her get her PR career back on track.

But the oil baron’s daughter won’t give up that easily, and Derek’s parents believe the engagement proves he’s become the son they always wanted.

Money. Family. Love. The truth could destroy everything. And to think this engagement was supposed to be the easy way out.

Excerpt:

“Is that the guy?” Derek asked in a low whisper, leaning across the table. “He works fast. Y’all broke up, what, last week?”

Her eyes darted to Derek’s face, so close to hers. Crap. He knew. “What did Shana tell you?”

“Only that you had been messing around with your boss and that’s why you had to leave.” He sat back. “Oh, and something about a beat-down with a telephone.”

She groaned. “It wasn’t that sordid. We were a couple. It was a relationship with long-term potential.” Or so she’d thought. “And it was only the handset, not the whole phone. My hands were a little sweaty and it slipped out of—never mind. Shana wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“She swore me to secrecy.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not in the CIA.”

His eyes narrowed. Something sparked in them. He swallowed—again with that uncharacteristic nervous tic—and then smiled. “How about I make it up to you?”

“How? Got a three-hole-punch in your wallet you don’t mind me throwing at his face?”

“I left my office supplies in my other pants, but I’ve got a better idea.” That million-dollar grin spread from ear to ear. “We’ll make him jealous.”

Her gaze slid to Richard and the way he was looking at his date. “I’m not sure that’s going to work. He seems pretty wrapped up in his lunch date’s breasts.”

“Trust me. It’ll work. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, accomplished woman, and he’ll spend the rest of his life kicking himself for letting you get away.”

“Yeah, right.” There was a twinkle in his eye, but Lilly didn’t get the sense he was out-and-out mocking her. And the thought of revenge was tempting. Revenge that didn’t end in security escorting her out of the building was even better.

“What did you have in mind?”

He took her hand across the table and looked deep into her eyes as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d seen in forever, instead of his little sister’s best friend and the perpetual pain in his side growing up. “Just follow my lead. Act like we’re gearing up for a nooner and are totally into each other.”

His hands were large and warm, and the way he was looking at her, even if it was an act, made her squirm in her chair. As a lovesick teen, she’d spent hours imagining what it would be like having him look at her like this. It was everything she thought it would be, and maybe a little more. Only she wasn’t a teen any more. So pathetic. Now she knew a fantasy was just a fantasy.

“A nooner? Seriously?” She sneaked a peek at Richard and caught him staring at her, unblinking, like the giant snake he was. The woman turned to follow his gaze—and Lilly recognized her as the busty receptionist at RSG she’d always had a feeling hated her. Now she knew why.

Derek dropped her hand and scooted his chair out, about to get up. “Or I could just walk over there and punch him in his ugly cheating face.”

 

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Meet the Author:

Bethany Michaels is the author of over a dozen contemporary novels and novellas as well as a handful of Regency-set historicals and light paranormal romances. The first book in her Nashville country music series, Nashville Heat, was an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee.

When not working on her next book, Bethany enjoys movies, traveling, camping, hiking, and volunteering with her kids’ scout troops. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her husband and four teens.

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Release Day and Giveaway! LEGALLY CHARMING by Lauren Smith (Ever After #1)

 

Title: Legally Charming
Series: Ever After #1
Author: Lauren Smith
Genre: Contemporary Romance/New Adult
Release Date: March 13, 2017

Blurb:

THE RIGHT DRESS CAN CATCH THE EYE OF PRINCE CHARMING…
 
Felicity Hart has one goal: Completing her masters in art. Falling in love isn’t part of the plan. She reluctantly agrees to attend a Halloween party with her best friend. After sneaking away from the party and falling asleep in an unoccupied room, she wakes to the sexiest pair of eyes she’s ever seen. Eyes that belong to the one man who could turn her well organized world upside down. When he flashes that wicked, panty-melting smile at her the vow to not fall in love seems impossible…
 
EVERY PRINCE IS LOOKING FOR HIS SLEEPING BEAUTY TO KISS…
 
Jared Redmond used to be the ultimate bad boy. But now his legal career is taking off and the partners of his firm are trusting him with high-dollar real estate transactions. Jared’s king-size bed is empty. But when he arrives home on Halloween to find a princess sleeping in his bed – his all work and no play attitude goes out the window. There’s nothing he wants more than to explore the hidden desires of this mysterious beauty and show her just how much of a bad boy he really is by fulfilling her every fantasy.
 

WHEN MIDNIGHT STRIKES AND COACHES TURN TO PUMPKINS… Underneath the glitter of this fairy tale romance, Felicity and Jared might have found true love. But the mounting pressure of their real lives takes hold again and Jared and Felicity are pulled further and further apart. Can they find their fairy tale ending or will they be left with the dying embers of what could have been?

Excerpt:

Jared Redmond stumbled from the taxicab, his brown leather briefcase smacking his back as he struggled to stay on his feet. He swallowed a growl of frustration. This was the last time he let the senior partners of his firm keep him out late to celebrate. He’d only had one drink, since he was dead tired from the last few months of overtime at the office. Having to smile, laugh, and socialize all night with the partners left him edgy and desperate to get home and crawl into bed.

God forbid he just do his job and do it well enough to earn respect. No, he had to spend hours at one of the most expensive restaurants with them, watching them pat each other on the back when he’d done all the heavy lifting in their multi-million-dollar transaction.

Big fucking mistake.

Now he was completely drained, and his body was determined to go to sleep on him right there on the street. His vision was fine, but his motor skills seemed to have abandoned him. He reached the glass doors of his apartment building lobby, leaning a little too heavily against the glass. Fishing around in his pocket for his keycard, he muttered a string of curses when his hand came up empty. He glanced up and rapped his knuckles. Thank God, the guard recognized him and buzzed him inside.

“Mr. Redmond.” The security guard nodded, a knowing smile on the older man’s lips.

“Hey, Randy,” he greeted, wincing at the slur of his words.

A few more steps and he reached the elevator. After much effort focusing on the series of floor buttons on the panel, he pressed the button to the fifteenth floor and it lit up. He leaned his head back on the mirrored walls, resting. Jesus, it was like he was drunk, but he knew it was sheer exhaustion.

It had been a hell of a day. After two months of negotiations, sleepless nights, long hours, and no chance of reviving his obsolete social life, he’d closed the massive real estate deal, and closed it earlier than he’d anticipated. Everyone demanded they go out and celebrate. He just wanted to crash and sleep off all of the stress pent up inside him.

He was going to walk into his bedroom and face-plant on his bed and not move all weekend from that spot.

Tanner would be out with his girlfriend, Layla, celebrating. It was Halloween, wasn’t it? A little grin tugged at his lips. The apartment would be empty and quiet. The perfect benefit of arriving home early. He’d told Tanner he wouldn’t be back until Sunday, and it was only Friday now. He expected his little brother and girlfriend would be out partying the night away, giving him total silence and a soft bed to crash on without any disturbances.

The second the elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, he heard the music and the erratic noises of a party. Laughter, voices, all coming from their apartment.

Fucking hell.

“Tanner,” he growled, fists clenched.

So the partying tonight was in, not out.

Jared contemplated turning around and finding a hotel, or worse, calling Shana. No, bad idea. They’d dated on and off during law school and after, but they’d never been exclusive. Currently he and Shana were off. Definitely off.

Lousy timing for Tanner to throw a damn party.

That was the main problem with letting his twenty-four-year-old brother live with him. He’d thought it would be nice to spend some time with his little brother, but with his work schedule he barely saw Tanner. The one night they might have hung out, he was too tired to care. He was not in the mood to dodge drunken graduate students all night and try to drown out all the racket they were making. Luck wasn’t with him tonight. Fuck, he was turning into a crotchety old man if he was going to let a party piss him off.

The door to their place was unlocked, and when he swung the door open, a wave of fresh sound engulfed him. His eardrums throbbed, and he winced at the explosion of the music that drilled into his skull like nails. Scantily-dressed girls bounced about to the pounding rhythm of the music along with guys who were watching with giddy-schoolboy expressions. Some of them cheered and smiled, drunkenly overjoyed that a new person had shown up to the party. Several familiar faces, Tanner’s friends, waved at him or nodded as he walked past them.

“Jared! I thought you weren’t coming home till tomorrow?” A zombie stripper stepped in front of him, hands on her hips. Through the gory makeup he thought he recognized her.

“Layla?”

Tanner’s girlfriend was dressed as a zombie stripper. Only Layla could manage to pull off that look.

“Layla, what the hell is going on?” he demanded, gesturing to the insanity. A girl in a sexy Lara Croft costume was singing a bad karaoke cover of “Somebody’s Watching Me.” Holy fuck. He was going to need some noise-cancelling headphones to survive this shit. For a brief second he considered tossing everyone out on their damn asses, but this place was half Tanner’s and he’d told Tanner he wouldn’t be here tonight. Brother code demanded he suffer through this bullshit.

Layla didn’t look chagrined in the least. “It’s Halloween. Oh, and Felicity’s birthday, obviously.”

“Who is Felicity?” He’d never met anyone named Felicity. Not that it was surprising, because he was never around when his brother was hanging out with Layla and their friends. He didn’t really remember what it was like to be that carefree. Law school and work had a way of consuming a person’s good memories.

“Scratch that, I don’t care. Is this thing”—he waved a hand around—“ending anytime soon?” He shifted his briefcase strap over his shoulder. His suit was starting to suffocate him, and as much as he liked the particular steel-gray tie he wore at the moment, he was desperate enough to cut it right off his neck if he couldn’t get to his room fast enough.

“Uh…” She licked her lips. “Don’t know. But you said you weren’t coming back until Sunday.”

“Well, here I am and tired as fuck. So I’m going to bed. Try to keep it down,” he growled.

“Uh, Jared.” She dodged around him, trying to prevent him from getting past her.

“What did you do?” He arched a brow, sensing by the way her eyes widened and she shifted in her stilettos that something was wrong.

“I might have given your bed away.” Layla bit her lip, yet she was brave enough to still meet his eyes.

“What do you mean you gave my bed away?”

She attempted to smile. “You were supposed to be gone until Monday, and Felicity needed a place to stay tonight. It’s late, and I didn’t want her to go home alone. She lives in a sketchy part of town—so I told her she could crash in your bed since you weren’t going to be here.” She glared at him, accusing him of something he wasn’t entirely sure was his fault. “So she’s in your room tonight.” She ended with a finality that did not entirely make sense to his tired brain.

“Let me get this straight. Some girl is in my bed…right now?”

Layla swallowed, her eyes darting away before coming back to him. “Um…yeah?”

“No,” he stated and stalked toward his room, Layla at his heels. Whoever this Felicity person was, she was in his bed, and since it was his bed, whatever Layla and this girl had seemed to think otherwise, he’d have her out of it.

Reaching his bedroom door, he crashed it open and strode in, prepared for all the hell and fury that came with drunk, twenty-something females—and instead, as his eyes adjusted, he found a princess in his bed.

Layla clattered behind on her too-tall stilettos. “Jared, wait—”

He pushed the door open, and a yellow beam of light from the hallway cut across the dark room, revealing a figure lying across his bed.

A princess. There was a princess in his bed.

The burgundy-and-gold gown was draped over his comforter with pearls glowing like tiny moons on the bodice of her gown.

What the fuck?

“Please don’t wake her,” Layla begged.

Wake her? Jared shook his head. What nonsense. He wasn’t a romantic. Even though she was certainly a fantasy. All luscious curves and mystery. Her dark auburn hair cascading over the pillow looked soft. His hands ached to reach out and fist in the strands. She looked like the kind of woman a young man dreamed about and ruined his sheets over, the kind of woman he’d stopped dreaming about a long time ago because he was convinced they didn’t exist.

He didn’t turn to look at Layla as he spoke. “Who is that?”

“Felicity Hart. Birthday girl and, more importantly, my best friend.” The threat was heavily implied. Don’t screw with Layla or her friends. Her loyalty in that respect was one of the things he admired most about his brother’s girlfriend.

Layla’s fingers curled around his biceps and squeezed, getting his attention.

“I told her she could sleep in your room since you weren’t supposed to be here. It’s the only place available for her to sleep.”

“I’m not giving up my bed. I worked seventy hours this week. I’m going to sleep.” He got one step inside his room before Layla practically tackled him, climbing up his back like a spider monkey.

“You. Will. Not. Wake. Her. Up,” Layla growled, nails digging into his arms. “She has a really important research paper due tomorrow, and she needs to sleep.”

“She can stay, but I’m sharing my bed with her. End of discussion. Go back to your party.” With a little shove, he made sure Layla couldn’t get back in before he shut the door in her face.

When he turned back around, he studied the girl in his bed. Without the hallway light he could barely make out her features. Just a silhouette, really, of a princess. Arousal slammed into him. He felt like an idiot. He never dated anyone who was still in school. They were too young. A year ago he’d tried to date a girl who was twenty-four, but she’d gotten pissed every time he’d had to work late. She didn’t get the pressures of his job. None of the girls younger than him seemed to understand that. Layla was all right, but she was still a kid. He needed someone mature who was at the same point in her life as him, an adult.

The hot little princess was the last thing he needed to be thinking about.

Don’t think about her or how much fun it would be to wake her up and kiss her. Just be a gentleman and go to bed.

His inner voice was a goddamn control freak, but he was thankful someone was still responsible.

Turning away, he started to strip out of his work clothes. He kicked his shoes off and then slipped a pair of pajama bottoms on. He didn’t bother with a shirt. He always got a little hot at night anyway. As he moved deeper into the room, he caught his foot on a chair. It screeched as it slid across the wood, and he winced, catching himself against the back of it. He glanced at the bed, but the girl hadn’t woken. A few quick steps and then he hit the bed, landing on his stomach and bouncing a little. The princess next to him didn’t stir. He shifted a couple of inches and slid one arm beneath his pillow to puff it up as he laid his head down. The toll of the night’s celebrations dragged him to the edge of the abyss of sleep. He was so close…

A little gasp and a half-strangled whimper pulled him to the surface again. “Whah?” He groaned and rolled onto his side facing the girl.

She was thrashing and whimpering beside him. Her hands clawed at the bodice of her dress, as though trying to escape it.

“Damn it!” He sat up and flicked on the lamp by his side of the bed. The wash of color in the room showed how flushed the girl was. She still shifted and kicked, moaning as if in pain. Jared leaned over and gently jostled her shoulder.

“Hey, kid, wake up.”

She jolted awake. Bright gray eyes like liquid mercury flashed in shock and fear as her gaze fell on him.

“Hi,” he said.

The princess blinked, her eyes darting around the room, then back to him, focusing on his bare chest. Her pupils dilated.

“Did we…um…who—” She shook her head as though to clear it. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Jared let out a raspy chuckle. “I’m the one who should be asking questions. But it’s been a long day and I’m beat. I’m Jared, and you are in my bed.”

He stood and walked back to his cherrywood dresser. His fingers curled around the brass handle, and he opened the top drawer.

“You’re Tanner’s brother?” Her voice was soft, husky. It rolled over him, soothing his irritation.

He selected a silk striped button-down nightshirt and a pair of boxers from his drawer and then returned to the bed. “Here.” He held the clothes out to her.

“What are those for?” she asked. One elegant brow rose.

“You. You woke up clawing at your dress. Looks like it’s too tight around your chest and it’s restricting your breathing. Unless you have clothes of your own, you’re changing into these so we can both get some sleep. Layla said you had some paper due tomorrow.”

When she opened her mouth, he could see the protest in her eyes and it amused him. Feisty little thing. And damned if he didn’t picture all the things he’d like to do to that little mouth.

“Take the clothes and change in the bathroom. Now.” He deepened his voice, and she hopped out of bed, snatching the clothes as she darted into the bathroom. She froze, then slowly looked over her shoulder at him.

“What?”

“My dress…it’s the laces in the back. I can’t reach them.”

A sigh escaped him. “Come here.” He crooked a finger and sat farther back on his bed. She sidled up to him, bashfulness in her every movement.

There was something sinful and suggestive about the way she nibbled her bottom lip. He twirled a finger, indicating for her to spin around. She offered her back to him. The silk ribbons on the back of her gown came undone easily enough, but he was surprised to see the second set of laces beneath, which belonged to a corset. It was black with embroidered red roses that set off the color of the loose tangles of her hair. The strands teased the back of his hands as he unlaced the corset. The creamy skin of her lower back made his mouth go dry. The princess was trying to kill him with these temptations.

All too soon the view disappeared as she rushed into the adjoining bathroom to change.

He fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers tapped a rhythm on his stomach as he waited. This was not at all how he’d predicted his night would go. He wasn’t complaining—not exactly.

The princess emerged, gown gone. She looked so young, standing there dwarfed in his button-down shirt and a hint of his boxers beneath the hem at her mid-thighs. Her gorgeous hair was wild and long, and it looked like she’d been well loved in bed. He didn’t miss the swell of her full breasts against the thin, expensive silk. The top button was low down her chest, exposing a wealth of creamy skin. Damn.

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Author Bio:

Lauren Smith is an Oklahoma attorney by day, author by night for Grand Central Publishing, who pens adventurous and edgy romance stories by the light of her smart phone flashlight app. She knew she was destined to be a romance writer when she attempted to re-write the entire Titanic movie just to save Jack from drowning. Connecting with readers by writing emotionally moving, realistic and sexy romances no matter what time period is her passion. She’s won multiple awards in several romance subgenres including: New England Reader’s Choice Awards, Greater Detroit BookSeller’s Best Awards, Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel Award Quarter-Finalist and a Semi-Finalist for the Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Award. To connect with Lauren, visit her at http://www.laurensmithbooks.com/ or twitter at https://twitter.com/LSmithAuthor.
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A Little Known Fact (and Giveaway!) About HER TRUE MATCH Paige Tyler (X-OPS #6)

A Little Known Fact from Her True Match . . .

The DCO wants Dreya to work for them, using her unique abilities to help people instead of stealing from them. She’s not so sure about that idea. She’s spent most of her adult life hiding her secret and looking out for number one. She has no interest in being someone’s superhero. But working with Braden is starting to look better and better by the day. The DCO brings him into the fold when they decide it would be good to have a person who understands how Dreya thinks. Braden goes along with the plan. Yeah, he wants to make sure she doesn’t get away from him again, but he also has the craziest urge to keep an eye on her for a whole other reason—to keep her safe. He has no idea where that urge comes from, but maybe Dreya is growing on him?

Title: Her True Match
Author: Paige Tyler
Series: X-Ops, #6
ISBN: 9781492625926
Pubdate: March 7, 2017
Genre: Paranormal

FORCED TOGETHER

When feline shifter Dreya Clark is escorted from the police interrogation by two secret agents, she thinks she’s dodged a bullet. That sexy detective Braden Hayes caught her stealing red-handed. When she finds out what she has to do to stay out of jail, suddenly she’s missing the hot cop with the piercing gaze. She’s being recruited for her shifter abilities by the Department of Covert Operations.

WILL DANGER RIP THEM APART?

Braden has been chasing the smart-mouthed cat burglar for years. But when Dreya’s taken away, he knows their game of cat and mouse has turned deadly-serious. There’s no way he’ll let her go off alone. Fur flies and temperatures flare as Braden realizes Dreya is much more than she appears. Thrown together on a dangerous covert mission, this unlikely pair will have to rely on each other to make it out alive.

 

Excerpt:

“How do you know I wasn’t testing the security system?” Dreya asked, her lips curving into a coy smile.

Braden sat across from the beautiful thief in one of the burglary section’s interrogation rooms, working hard to keep from smiling back at her. Even though he knew her record backward and forward, he was still having a hell of a time maintaining a professional detachment. He was good in the interrogation room, but Dreya was better. She charmed, she flirted, and she controlled where she wanted the conversation to go. Braden had already been forced to toss Mick out of the room. His partner had come damn close to asking their suspect out on a date, even though she was sitting at the table wearing a pair of handcuffs.

Though Braden had to admit she made the cuffs look good. Even now, she was sitting at the table with her long, blond hair cascading around her shoulders, talking animatedly with her hands as if the heavy stainless steel cuffs were a fashion accessory. He wasn’t even sure when she’d gotten her hair out of the braid it had been in before, but he had the crazy urge to run his fingers through it. He resisted—barely. Dreya had been saying since they’d brought her in that this was all a big misunderstanding and that she could straighten this out if she could talk privately with the owner of the art piece they seemed to think she’d stolen. Like that was going to happen. Something told Braden that putting her in the same room with some rich playboy would be an incredibly bad idea. All she had to do was bat those hazel-green eyes at him a few times and tousle her hair with her fingers, and the guy would agree with anything she said. Hell, the guy would probably give her the silly blue balloon dog thing sitting on the table between them as a gift.

“If we’re going to talk about security systems, Dreya, let’s start with how you managed to climb the wall of that apartment on the south side of M Street. Because I gotta tell you, that was damn impressive.”

He expected her to deny it had been her—or beam with pride at the compliment—but her eyes widened in shock. For the first time that night, there was fear on her face.

“You saw that?” She darted a nervous glance at the one-way glass mirror to her left, the one Mick was standing behind.

He nodded. “Sure did. In fact, we have it all on video. The climb, the walk across the cable, the jump you made to the balcony.”

On the other side of the table, her face went pale. Shit, was she starting to hyperventilate?

“How many people have seen the video?” she demanded.

Braden frowned. Why the hell was a second-story thief worried about how many cops had seen her display her talents? That made no sense.

“Just my partner and me,” he assured her. “But while the video is amazing, it doesn’t explain how you were able to scale that wall. Were you using something on your hands to get a grip? I searched your bag but didn’t find anything.”

Dreya swallowed hard. In all of the previous occasions he’d questioned her, she’d been confident and posed, but suddenly it was like she’d been hit by lightning. She seemed off balance…lost.

“You can’t let anyone else see the video,” she said.

He shrugged. “That’s not really up to me.”

She stared at her cuffed wrists, her shoulders slumping in a defeat he hadn’t seen coming. “What if I confess?”

She said it so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “What?”

Dreya lifted her head to look at him, that usual glimmer missing from her eyes now. “If I confess right now, will you destroy the video?”

Braden hoped to hell his mouth wasn’t hanging open. Being interrogated by the cops could make people say strange stuff, but Dreya had to know that even with the evidence they had on her, a woman with her background and clean record could likely get a case like this whittled down from the standard five to seven to less than two years. Why would she agree to a written confession? What the hell was on that video she was so terrified of letting anyone see?

He knew he needed to be careful, but right then it was hard to think of Dreya as the hardened criminal he’d always believed. He was smart enough to know she wasn’t a saint, but there was something going on here. She was so terrified she was on the verge of tears.

The sudden aura of vulnerability had his heart beating hard and fast. The urge to protect her from whatever was freaking her out was impossible to ignore. Part of the reason he’d become a cop was to help people in trouble, and Dreya definitely seemed to be in trouble.

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About the author:

Paige Tyler is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of sexy, romantic fiction. Paige writes books about hunky alpha males and the kick-butt heroines they fall in love with. She lives with her very own military hero (a.k.a. her husband) and their adorable dog on the beautiful Florida coast. Visit www.paigetylertheauthor.com.

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