Passionflix is almost HERE!!!!

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The countdown is on for the launch of Passionflix September 1st!

Passionflix, an all new streaming on-demand service for romance lovers will offer original content adapted from best-selling novels, as well as classic romance films and fan favorite romantic comedies. Streaming will be available online, as well as through an app for mobile devices, tablets, and some Smart TVs.

On September 20th the first Passionflix original, Hollywood Dirt by Alessandra Torre, premieres, followed by Afterburn/Aftershock, the bestselling duet by Sylvia Day in November 2017.

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Subscriptions will be $5.99 after launch, but Passionflix is offering Early Bird pricing you don’t want to miss!

Sign up before August 31st and become a Founding Member or a Pre-subscriber at the special discounted price:
• Founding Members get behind the scenes content, first looks at movie trailers, invitations to sets, parties and much more!
• Pre-subscribers get the Early Bird pricing at $3.99/ month for the first year! That’s a $24 discount!

Sign up today! http://www.passionflix.com/signup
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Bad Deeds (Dirty Money) Lisa Renee Jones

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Bad Deeds: A Dirty Money Novel by Lisa Renee Jones

Release Date: August 8th, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Would you bleed for the one you love?

To save his family empire from the grip of the drug cartel, Shane is pushed to the edge of darkness, forced to make choices he might never make. His father is dying. His brother is desperate to rule the empire and this means war and all gloves are off. His brother only thought he knew what dirty meant. Shane is about to give it new meaning. There is another war brewing though, and that one, is inside him, his battle between right and wrong, light and dark, and in the heat of the night, it is Emily he turns to for escape. Driving her to new limits, pushing her to accept a part of him that even he cannot.

In every one of Shane’s seductive demands, Emily can taste and feel, his torment, his struggle to save his family and not lose himself. But he is losing himself, and that is a problem just as dangerous as her secret, that still lurk in the shadows, a threat to the Brandon Family waiting to erupt. No matter where she and Shane have traveled, or will travel in the future, she can’t just sit back and watch him become everything he hates, everything he never wanted to become, everything she tried to save him from when she tried to run. It could be their undoing, the end. His end.

This is war, blood will spill, and someone in the heart of the Brandon family will not survive….

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Bad Deeds is the third installment in the Dirty Money series by Lisa Renee Jones, a big favorite of mine. Though cliffhangers, as most of you all know, are a rather dirty word as far as I’m concerned. I really do hate them for the most part, especially when I have to wait for what it seems like forever to find out what happens next. Bad deeds does, unfortunately, end in a whopper of a cliffie. Book four, End Game, will be out in January. (Can I scream now?)

If you haven’t read Hard Rules or Damage Control, the first two books of the series, you should just stop and go back and read those first. If you simply can’t, (say a mafia boss is holding a gun to your head) then Ms. Jones does a great job of giving you a catch-up at the beginning of the book along with a cast of players with their bios and what part they play. That said, this book picks up right where Damage Control left off. Shane is still working to get the family business from dealing with Adrian Martina and the Cartel. Emily…still has her secrets.

There’s so much going on in this book, and in typical LRJ style, she drops enough bombs it leaves you wanting more! I’m certainly not going to divulge anything here, it’s best to read for yourself. Now, I wait impatiently for End Game.

4 Fabulous Stars

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Excerpt:

“What is in your head right now?”

His eyes heat, darken. “You. Always.” He inches back and looks at me. “You’re mine. Mine to protect.” His voice is low, fierce, and he grips my panties and yanks them away. “Mine to fuck.”

I gasp and grab his shoulders. “Shane.”

His answer is to wrap his arm around my waist, pull me close, his cheek against mine, his fingers pressing into the V of my body. “Wet, just the way I like you,” he says, pressing two fingers inside me. “Wet for me. And too fucking perfect for my sanity sometimes.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” I pant out, grabbing the lapel to his suit as a sweet ache begins to build in my sex as his thumb strokes my clit.

“And no one else,” he murmurs, nipping my earlobe, “will ever touch you like this.” His fingers caress deeper inside me. “No one,” he adds, “will ever make you say their name like I want you to say mine right now. Say it.”

“Shane,” I whisper, and not because he wants me to, but rather because it’s there on my lips, the way I wish his tongue was on my lips now. “Shane, I—”

Seeming to know what I need, he cups my head and kisses me, long, slow, sensual strokes of his tongue that somehow make every touch of his fingers more intense.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, and this time when he kisses me, I start climbing that wall to release, and I’m there at the top in an instant. I stiffen while his fingers and tongue tease, please, and then I jerk, I’m over it, tumbling in an instant into shudders and shakes. Shane’s lips lift from mine as he breathes with me. His fingers slow as he eases me through the waves until I collapse against his chest.

He tangles his fingers in my hair and drags my mouth back to his. “And no one but me will ever make you come like that again,” he declares, the waves of his emotions beating down any embarrassment I might feel over having had an orgasm on his father’s desk.

“No one has ever made me feel what you make me feel, Shane.”

Bad Deeds Available

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Start the Series Today!

99 CENT SALE – Hard Rules (Dirty Money book 1)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2jVTwDR

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$1.99 SALE – Damage Control (Dirty Money book 2)

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And Lisa has a chance for readers to read the first TWO CHAPTERS of book 4, END GAME, early PLUS the first chapter of SETH’S story (Poison Kisses) as well!

More info: https://us.macmillan.com/smp/promo/endgamepreordergiveaway

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series. Suzanne Todd (producer of Alice in Wonderland) on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy – a modern girl we all can identify with.

In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, Lisa has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is also the author of the bestselling DIRTY MONEY and WHITE LIES series. Presently, Lisa is working on her Murder Girl/Lilah Love series to be published by Montlake.

Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and she is active on Twitter and Facebook daily.

Lisa Renee Jones

Connect with the Author:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLisaReneeJones/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWFra1

Twitter: @LisaReneeJones

Stay in touch with Lisa by joining her mailing list:

http://lisareneejones.com/newsletter-sign-up/

Website: http://lisareneejones.com

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StarStruck by Laurelin Paige

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Star Struck, a sexy, standalone from New York Times Bestseller Laurelin Paige is live!

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She uses her fame as a wall around her heart, and only he can tear it down.

Seth Rafferty knows Heather Wainwright’s type.

Demanding. Check.

Self-important. Check.

Leggy and blonde. Yeah, he knows the drill.

He’s been a Hollywood production designer far too long to have patience for A-listers with a superior attitude. Beautiful women with a chip on their shoulder are a dime a dozen.

Which is why his obsession with Heather makes no sense. Nothing about her is attractive.

Except the vulnerability under the sass. The honesty under the attitude.

So when wrap-party flirting gets carried away, Seth doesn’t stop it from turning into a sizzling night of passion. Too late, he realizes, one night isn’t going to get her out of his system.

On to plan B: uncover the real woman under the diva.

Soon Heather will find out that Seth isn’t just a simple carpenter she can use and lose without consequences. He’ll play the part of the builder, but it’s her walls he intends to break down.

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In typical Laurelin Paige fashion, we have a fun, enemies to lovers read in Starstruck. I honestly wasn’t too fond of the main character, Hollywood actress Heather Wainwright. But as we get further into the story, we find out that she is using her rather stuck-up behavior as a shield to hide her past.

Enter Seth Rafferty, Heather figures he’s just a set builder and rather beneath her. Seth decides not to correct that misconception and to teach her a lesson. You can all see where this is going yeah?

A rather fun book with some moments that had me smiling.

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 Read Today!

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Amazon International: myBook.to/StarStruckLP

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About Laurelin Paige:

USA Today and New York Times Bestselling Author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.

Laurelin Paige

Connect with Laurelin:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LaurelinPaige/

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

Twitter: @LaurelinPaige

Facebook Fan Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/HudsonPierce/

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Website:  www.laurelinpaige.com

Unbound (Uninhibited Book 2) by Lauren Hawkeye

 The second part in Lauren Hawkeye’s erotic romance serial, UNINHIBITED!, is available today! And you don’t have long to wait until the third part, which releases July 17th! Find out more about the serial below and pick up your copies below!

 

 

About the Uninhibited! Series

Celebrity archaeologist Cari Dunn is so over the Georgia heat, the red tape at her dig site, and the threatening messages left on her motel door. She just wants to dig, and the network just wants to keep her safe—with a bodyguard. She can’t complain. Jasper Benjamin radiates raw masculinity that penetrates her to the core and ignites passion she’s never felt. Too bad for him, she’s not going to be easy to handle.

Lusting after the bodyguard shouldn’t be so tempting, especially when her life is on the line.

Grab your copy of  UNTAMED (Uninhibited! #1) now:

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Get your hands on UNBOUND (Uninhibited! #2) today:

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Preorder UNDONE (Uninhibited! #3) – Releases July 17th

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Unbound by Lauren Hawkeye is the second novella in the Uninhibited series. It’s rather short, so be prepared for that when you read. You’ll also want to be sure to have read part one, Untamed prior to reading Unbound, as this picks up right where Untamed left off.

Cari Dunn is on site at a dig for her TV show, and it’s obvious someone doesn’t want her there. What started as pranks seem to be escalating, and the show isn’t taking any chances, so Cari has a super, sexy bodyguard, Jasper. Jasper and Cari have discovered that they really ‘Dig’ each other. (Okay, bad pun, I know.) When we last left our steamy couple, they had not only had a 3-way dance with another super-hottie named Jackson whose dance would have gotten them kicked off DWTS for sure! Jasper was so turned on watching Cari with Jackson, he took her back to the room and they started their own type of dance.

Unfortunately, this gets interrupted with a bit of a brick through the window action. This is where we start. So…Our muscle-bound hero takes Cari to his room so he can investigate the matter, but Cari just won’t stay put. Hmmm…How can he make her stay? I’m not telling, but imagine the sizzle when a drop of water hits a hot iron. Yep, that hot! Then our intrepid hero decides to explain all to Cari about why he’s single. It seems he has a kink that most women find a bit difficult to live with full-time. Curious? It’s in here, and it’s oh-so yummy! Of course, the cliffy sets us up for the third and final installation of the series, Undone. Luckily, you’ll only have a week to wait for it!

 

Get a Sneak Peek at UNTAMED, Uninhibited! #1:

“You know what Krav Maga is, and you let me spar with my imaginary friend for the last hour?” I let myself go limp, become dead weight, expecting the move to surprise him enough to drop me.

It did not. Instead he rolled with me until his back was against the parched grass, and I was seated astride him. I should have been able to get free since I was on top, but I couldn’t rid myself of his steely grip on my arms, and I knew he’d chosen that position deliberately, to prove his point.

Damn it. This was not the result I wanted—proof that I did, in fact, need him.

“I get it. You’re stronger than me. Now let me up.” Temper-tears stung the back of my throat. Convincing my stepfather that I was going to go to university, convincing my colleagues that I wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown just because some idiot spray painted my door—why did I always have to fight just to live my life the way I wanted?

Instead of gloating and letting me up, my newly vindicated bodyguard tugged me down so that I lay at on top of him. I surprised myself by wanting, suddenly, to bury my face in his T-shirt and just let go for a moment, rather than fight this new reality—that I might actually be in danger.

“I’m not trying to prove that I’m stronger than you. I don’t have to. It’s obvious.” The urge to snuggle passed as I cranked my head around with a glare.

Way to make me feel worse, asshole.

Krav maga is a discipline, and the first rule is to avoid confrontation. You know this. So why the hell are you out here, alone, after dusk?” His words were tinted with frustration, the first hint of emotion he’d shown, and I was surprised enough to stop tugging at his grip. When I did, he let go, and I pushed myself up on his massive chest but didn’t roll off.

“You’re serious.” I waited for the punchline, but it didn’t come. Instead, he fixed me with a stare from those pale eyes, and a shiver skittered down my spine. “You don’t actually think someone is out to get me, do you? It’s a prank, right?”

“Let’s look at it this way.” Propping himself up on an elbow brought that rock-solid stomach of his in contact with my hip. I thought he would push me away, but he didn’t, seeming completely unaffected by the closeness of our bodies.

That stung, because I sure as hell wasn’t. This close, I could feel the warmth of his skin, smell a hint of soap, and it invaded my senses slowly, lazily, like honey melting on a summer day.

“You’re an archaeologist. You search for physical proof of things before you build theories on top of that evidence. Would that be an accurate explanation?”

“Yes.” Narrowing my eyes, I tried to drag my attention from the scent of his skin to what he was saying. My mouth was dry, and the space between my legs that pressed into the cradle between his hip was warm and starting to ache.

He gave no indication that our position was getting him all hot and bothered, too. None. How was I the only one feeling this?

“You have your physical proof. Harassment in the form of vandalism, and the more direct threat with the poster mailed to Margot.” With the sort of ab crunch I couldn’t do even on my best day, he hauled himself into a sitting position, still without pushing me off his lap. “Sure, it could be that

someone just wants to mess with your head. But what if it’s more? Wouldn’t you rather be prepared?”

“I like being prepared.” I ran my tongue over my lips and swallowed. Holy mixed messages. His words, his demeanor—he was still fully in G.I. Joe mode, but still, he hadn’t pushed me away.

“So how is this going to work? You just follow me around all the time?” A thought occurred to me. “You’re not expecting to stay in the same room, are you?”

Looking at him, though, I felt that same strange pull that I had in Margot’s suite. I might not actually mind having him that close.

What was wrong with me?

Margot and the network had been right—I was absolutely in danger. But the threat?

It was him.

About Lauren Hawkeye

Lauren Hawkeye/ Lauren Jameson never imagined that she’d wind up telling stories for a living… though when she looks back, it’s easy to see that she’s the only one who is surprised. Always “the kid who read all the time”, Lauren made up stories about her favorite characters once she’d finished a book… and once spent an entire year narrating her own life internally. No, really. But where she was just plain odd before publication, now she can at least claim to have an artistic temperament.

Lauren lives in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada with her husband, toddler, pit bull and idiot cat, though they do not live in an igloo, nor do they drive a dogsled. In her nonexistent spare time Lauren can be found knitting (her husband claims that her snobby yarn collection is exorbitant), reading anything she can get her hands on, or sweating her way through spin class. She loves to hear from her readers!

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Reader Group

Trouble (Bad Boy Homecoming Book 2) by Avery Flynn

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Trouble by Avery Flynn

Release Date: June 27th, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Trouble, an all-new sexy standalone from Avery Flynn is available NOW!

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Synopsis

A high school reunion is about to get down and dirty and a whole lot more complicated in this new romance from USA Today bestselling author Avery Flynn.

Brains and a badass attitude. That’s all troublemaker Leah Camacho took with her when she left Catfish Creek. She’d promised herself she’d never go back, but when the invite to her tenth high school reunion arrived along with the chance to show everyone who doubted her what a success she’s made of herself, she couldn’t resist. However, when she discovers a 15-carat, stolen diamond in her rental car’s glove box, there’s only one man she can turn to for help—the same sexy, stubborn domineering man who’d smashed her heart all those years ago.

Sheriff Drew Jackson knew a long time ago that Leah Camacho was nothing but trouble and has sworn to never get caught up in her again—no matter how damn sexy she is or how badly he’d failed to forget her. But, when the woman who test drove his heart right into a concrete wall rolls into Catfish Creek with some serious bad guys on her tail, it’s up to him to keep her safe—even if that means guarding her hot bod 24/7 without giving into temptation or losing his mind.

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Trouble by Avery Flynn is one of the books in the Bad Boy Homecoming Series that I have so recently become addicted to. And what’s not to be addicted to? We have Avery, then there is Carrie Ann Ryan, Katee Robert, Kennedy Layne (Honor, for which I have reviewed and loved!!), and Stacey Kennedy! Just these ladies names alone would prompt me to read a series, even if it was about…hmmm making cookies! But I digress, it’s all about coming home to tiny Catfish Creek for a high school reunion.

Trouble is a tie-in with her series B-Squad, (which I am so going to get my hands on! Look for the reviews soon!) Leah Camacho is coming home for her high school reunion, but she ends up bringing home trouble. That’s nothing new for Leah, and sexy town sheriff Drew Jackson is used to Leah’s shenannigan’s. This time, a stolen diamond and a couple of rhinestone cowboys come with her.

Drew only has a few days left of being sheriff and having to deal with the craziness of Catfish Creek, does he want to get involved with the woman he once left behind that was nothing but trouble? Will the B-Squad get involved? You’ll want to grab up this book and find out! I absolutely loved this book! The sex scenes were oh-so-smoking hot that they were right off the hotness meter! Drew sure does know how to use a set of handcuffs! I’m most certainly going out and getting Avery’s B-Squad books after reading this!

5 Arresting Kinkadelic Stars!

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Excerpt

Spinning the wheel as he hit the brakes, he came to a stop behind the sports car at an angle that blocked it from reversing. Drew got out of his truck, keeping the open door between him and the other car and flicked open the leather strap on his hip holster that kept his sheriff’s office-issued 9mm locked in place.

“Get out of the vehicle,” he hollered.

The car’s driver’s side door opened wide. The first part of the driver to appear was one shapely leg wearing skin-tight denim punctuated with scuffed up black Doc Martens. Some sort of danger alarm sounded in Drew’s head, but not the kind that warned of bullets or other bodily danger. A woman got out, facing away from him, her hands up and her dark hair a long silky curtain that led his attention straight down her back to the high curve of her ass poured into those jeans. Parts of him that had no place in police business sat up and noticed. Her ass was a testament to the reason why society required women to wear full dresses for so long—because men were weak, lust-addled idiots when it came to asses like the one that looked more than a little familiar to Drew. His gaze snapped back up as his internal alarm went from quiet buzz to all-out blare. He knew that ass, that hair, and those damn boots.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

She did. Her lush mouth—one he knew far too well—was compressed into a tight line, her attention focused on something behind him. Leah Camacho was back and with her always came trouble—for him, for his sanity, and for the part of him that still thought of her at opportune moments in the shower.

“Drew,” she said, making his name sound like a curse and a promise. “Get on the other side of the door.”

Listening to Leah Camacho was the last thing he should be doing, but he did it anyway for reasons he didn’t understand. Just as he rounded the door, an extended cab pickup truck turned the corner. The tires were big, the windows dark, and the speed was slow. As it puttered by, Drew looked it over and mentally confirmed it didn’t belong to any of the usual suspects in Catfish Creek. Of course, the high school reunion was bringing in lots of folks who hadn’t been here in a while. At the corner, the truck sped up, peeling away from the stop sign and taking a hard right back toward the highway.

“Who was that?” he asked, the smell of burnt rubber drifting back toward them.

“No fucking clue but they’ve been on my ass for the past hour,” she said, reaching up and winding her long hair into a knot on the top of her head—the move emphasizing her amazing tits and making Drew’s mouth go dry. “I didn’t realize I’d be stopping on your turf.”

He bet not. After what happened last time they were together, she’d made avoiding him into an art form. However, the fact that he was the law in town, however temporarily, meant avoiding her was an impossibility because wherever Leah Camacho went, trouble was sure to follow. He glanced down at exhibit A.

“What happened to your tire?” he asked.

“No clue,” she said, her voice tight with a lie. “I must have run over something.”

Drew squatted down and took a closer look at the tire. It didn’t have a tear, it was just gone as if it had been a blow out. If Leah had run over something big enough to do that, she would have realized it.

“What in the hell is going on, Leah?”

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Read Today!

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Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/2RudqN

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About the Author:

Avery Flynn is an award winning, USA Today bestselling  romance author. She has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

Connect with Avery:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AveryFlynnAuthor/

Twitter: @averyflynn

Stay up to date with Avery by signing up for her newsletter here:

http://averyflynn.com/newsletter/

http://averyflynn.com

The Chase by Vanessa Fewings

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The Chase, an all-new sexy first story in the Icon Trilogy from Vanessa Fewings is available now!!!

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The Chase by Vanessa Fewings

Release Date Reveal: Jun 6th, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

A rising star in one of London’s top art investigation firms, Zara Leighton’s talent for seeing deep into paintings is in her blood. She’s chosen to help track down Icon, an enigmatic international art thief whose heists are methodical, daring, baffling. To Zara the case is maddening—bordering on an obsession.

She finds distraction in the chiseled form of top-shelf client Tobias Wilder, a magnetic American billionaire who demands her expertise, her discretion—and her secrecy. Wilder doesn’t ask questions. He gives orders. His gaze alone ignites her deepest fantasies. And his touch…

The sudden whirl of exclusive exhibitions and decadent parties that Wilder introduces her to is a potent aphrodisiac. But surrender soon becomes tinged with suspicion. Is Zara’s tryst with Wilder the real thing…or just a convincing forgery?

Excerpt:

Zara, within the texture lies the truth, he’d told me as he nudged me closer to the canvas. Can you see?

As I’d taken in—or at least tried with the perception of a ten-year-old—the brilliance of that French artist on that cen­tury-aged painting, I’d sensed life would never be the same.

I’d known in the depths of my soul art would always be my one true love.

Tonight, I’d been so fazed about coming here that I’d for­gotten to wear a coat that would have offset the chill of a Lon­don autumn and the cold temperature the gallery was kept at to preserve its treasures within.

Art galleries were quiet places with hushed whispers as re­spectful visitors paid homage to the genius of artists who’d left their indelible mark. Many of these painters had languished in poverty even after giving so much. As a child I’d always wanted to travel back in time to watch them work and tell them their talent had been worth all they’d sacrificed.

My stilettos clicked along the marble uncomfortably loudly as I neared Madame Rose Récamier. She’d hung in my bed­room and watched over me for years.

Stepping closer, my gaze roamed over her, marveling at those pristine strokes giving Rose a stunning realism.

I gave the softest sigh.

The year was 1803 when Jacques Momar had captured a moment in time with this Parisian socialite and, as I trailed my fingers through my auburn locks, I recalled how I’d wanted to be her. Chestnut irises, we had that in common, but her fiery gaze reflected a life of daring—one she’d chosen to live on her terms. Madame Rose Récamier had been known for her love of neoclassical fashion and her controversial interest in politics. She’d stunned Paris with her tenacity. Her reputa­tion to enamor with her smart wit and intelligence had been expressed so beautifully as she reclined on that satin chaise lounge, her head thrown back and her gaze held firmly on the artist Monsieur Momar. In her expression there was love. As time went on I’d realized that look proved an affair had transpired between them. The kind of passion I’d only ever read about.

I saw something I’d never noticed before—uncertainty—the emotion starkly vivid and painfully real.

In his will my father had left Madame Récamier to me. And now I was leaving her here.

“She’s haunting,” Clara whispered, shaking me from my daydream. It was just like her to know I needed a few mo­ments alone with Rose to say goodbye.

It felt comforting having my best friend here.

No matter how many months went by without seeing Clara, it felt like mere minutes had passed between us. She’d always come through for me, and I for her.

Her diamante-crystal, halter-neck dress made her look gor­geous, as always. She had a couple of inches on me and her thick blond curls were a contrast to my long auburn hair. Her high cheekbones were a reflection of the confidence that had helped her succeed as an advertising photographer. Her vo­luptuousness was a contrast to my smaller curvy figure. “Ru­binesque,” she’d called herself, which matched her vibrant personality, and her bright eyes and warm smile were always welcome in my world that always seemed more complicated than hers.

As if sensing I needed it, she came over now to give me a hug. “She’s beautiful.” Clara squeezed me into her side.

“First time I saw her I was wearing my favorite floral dress.” I rested my head on Clara’s shoulder for a moment. “Red shoes. I loved those shoes.”

“Oh, Zara, this was a good decision.”

“Yes. She’s meant to be here.”

She paused for a moment and studied me as though careful with her words. “What about the others?”

The three other paintings we’d saved that night…

Flames rising from our house and licking the air with those monstrous oranges and reds; a hellish glow…

The stench of toxic smoke in my clothes. My hair. My skin. My doll lost to the flames.

Stubbornly, I shook my head not wanting to remember any­thing more about that night. “There was always this sense we were protecting Madame Rose by hiding her away.”

Now it was time to step away.

Let it all go. And move on.

“You okay?” came Clara’s reassurance.

I nodded to let her know I was.

It was behind me now, all that grief of dealing with the complex issues of my father’s estate and those endless meet­ings with softly spoken solicitors where coffee was my only friend. And those journalists who’d begged for a scoop on what plans I had to take the Leighton family legacy into the twenty-first century.

I had no real plans for anything, not really.

Other than settling into my new career. Moving on felt cathartic.

Clara tutted. “Dreadful thing.”

Shaken back into the room, I asked, “What is?”

“No one’s reckless enough to steal from a gallery. Not with all this.” She peered up at one of the discreet cameras.

She was referring to that theft in Chelsea, a portrait by Henry Raeburn had been stolen from a private estate.

“You’re right,” I agreed.

She patted my arm. “You’ll sleep better knowing she’s here.”

“You don’t think it’s connected to what happened in France, do you?”

Rumors had reached the community that some of the wealthiest families in Paris had suffered at the hands of an art thief and that news had set the city’s private dealers and their customers on edge.

“Let’s get some bubbly.” Clara led me back down the hallway. “You have some hobnobbing to do with these art-lov­ing crazies.”

“Thank you for being here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

I forced myself not to look back.

Making our way down the hallway we continued to ad­mire the collection, pausing here and there until I sensed Clara’s restlessness.

“That’s a nice blouse,” she said. “Gold brings out your eyes.”

I tugged on my pencil skirt. “Marks and Spencer.”

“I thought you were going to say some posh designer. You’re getting close to that birthday.”

Which was Clara’s tactful way of saying my inheritance would kick in on the eve of my twenty-third birthday. Pride had turned my thoughts away from it but these rising costs of living in London had me rethinking that. The idea of having to decide what to do with fifteen million pounds made me nervous. That decision wouldn’t come until next year and I still had time to nudge that thought far away.

A wave of guilt settled in my gut that my inheritance came from my father’s will. I spun round to face Clara. “I got the job!”

“What? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful!”

“I’m officially a forensic art specialist at Huntly Pierre.”

I’d landed my dream job at a high-end firm in the middle of The Strand, and I couldn’t wait to start.

“Zara, that’s wonderful.” She leaped forward and hugged me. “I’m so excited.”

Years of studying art and I was finally being let loose.

“They know about your dad’s penchant for collecting price­less art, then?”

“No, I got this on my own merit.” I lowered my brow, hop­ing my family name of Leighton wouldn’t follow me around forever. “Have a knack for detecting forgeries apparently.”

Within the texture lies the truth.

Everything Dad knew he’d taught me; an education like no other. It wasn’t only studying at the Courtauld that had given me the talent for knowing the difference between an Uccello and a Masaccio, but my education had begun when my father had instilled in me his rare insight into art before I could even walk, hoping I’d follow in his footsteps.

“It’s in my blood.”

She winked. “The commission you’ll make when you con­firm a piece is real should be quite something. These things are worth a fortune.”

“You can’t place a value on pieces like this,” I said wist­fully, admiring Constant Troyon’s oil on canvas A Clump of Trees, with its soothing layers of greens and yellows. “For the first time I feel like I’m putting my knowledge to good use.”

“You know what else needs to be in your blood? Booze. More specifically, champagne.” We laughed too loudly as we neared the lift.

Standing back a little, I watched Clara hit the down but­ton and the silver doors slid open. Peering inside that gaping chasm of metal, I felt my haunting phobia of lifts returning, the light inside flickered to taunt me, and my feet refused to move forward as that familiar fear swept over me.

Terror spiked my veins. “Let’s take the stairs.”

She raised her left foot to show off her heels. “I’ll break my neck.”

“You sure?”

“Zara.” She sounded baffled.

“Meet you down there.”

“This is why you have great legs,” her voice echoed after me. “You’re always taking the stairs.”

Her laughter followed me down the stairwell.

I peeled off each shoe and in stockinged feet burst through the fire escape door. I descended fast, round and round, count­ing the floors as I went.

Breathing in the chilled air, I rekindled the feeling that what I’d done tonight was one of my better decisions. Clara was right. The security was great and the responsibility of pro­tecting all of Dad’s other pieces would soon be lifted as they made their way here.

It made me happy to think of other people getting to enjoy them too, and my feet flew down with a bounce in my step.

With a shove on the security rail I pushed open the heavy fire door and went on through into the dimly lit hallway.

Realizing I’d gone too far I turned to go back. The door was locked from this side.

Ouch.

As if right on cue my garter belt snapped off my thigh-high stocking and I hurried onward to find somewhere pri­vate to fix it.

My feet carried me away from the lift and along the hall­way. At the end was a door stamped with a sign: Staff Only.

I went on in and saw the long mirror right in front of me. I neared it and gave myself a reassuring smile. I looked pretty tonight and was actually a little less geeky than usual, having switched out my cardigan and flat heels for my favorite gold silk blouse and black skirt and even my hair was miraculously behaving. After putting my shoes down, I eased up my hem and attempted to reattach my stocking top.

Fiddly thing.

My fingers slipped so I hiked my skirt higher to better work the intricate reclipping. With that accomplished, I straight­ened my eggshell-blue high rise panties.

And then I spotted a movement across the room—

I yanked my skirt down, my mouth forming words of apology but failing to say them. I bent over to scoop up my shoes and rushed toward the door, my hand reaching round to neaten my skirt.

Oh no, my hem still exposed my bum.

Cheeks reddening further as I grappled with the unrea­sonable material and sucked up my embarrassment so I could throw a wave of apology to the stranger.

My gaze fixed on the living, breathing sculpture.

Making it to the door, I tried to force my stare away from the strikingly beautiful specimen of a man who was looking at me with a mixture of surprise and delight.

Finally exhaling, I was riveted by his sun-kissed torso with its finely chiseled abs, his black trousers low and revealing a hint of a V. An intricate tattoo on his left upper arm that vaguely reminded me of a Polynesian design, with its swirls in black ink and an image in the center.

My heartbeat quickened as I searched my memory for where I knew him from. I was awestruck by this breathtaking Adonis, who was reaching for a white shirt hanging on the back of a chair. He was tall and devastatingly handsome in a rugged kind of way. Thirty, maybe? Those short, dark golden locks framing a gorgeous face, his three-day stubble marking him with a tenacious edge and that thin wry smile exuding a fierce confidence. His green irises were a startling contrast to his lightly tanned complexion; his intense, steady glare stayed on mine as he calmly pulled his arm through a sleeve and cov­ered that tattoo before I could make out more.

A gasp caught in my throat as it came to me that we’d never actually met, probably because this was Tobias Wil­liam Wilder, a billionaire. He moved in the kind of refined circles one would expect from a business magnate and inven­tor who owned TechRule, one of the largest software com­panies in the world.

And I’d given this playboy mogul his very own peep show.

He’d popped up on my radar a year ago when I’d read an article on him in Cosmo, featuring his Los Angeles–based art gallery, The Wilder. It was an acclaimed museum that was one of the most prestigious in the world and it was also right up there on my wish list to visit.

Wilder was even more dazzling in person.

I’d imagined one day I might bump into him with the art world being relatively small, but never had I imagined a sce­nario as racy as this.

Why the hell hadn’t I worn my sexy panties?

“I’m looking for the stairs,” I managed.

“That way.” His refined American accent felt like another blow to my reason.

That alpha-maleness made him look like he’d just returned from a dangerous adventure in the Himalayas or even the jungles of Peru—

Where he’d spent his days hunting in the wilderness, or naked while fishing in a fast-running stream, and then mak­ing a campfire at night with those elegant hands, and then saving his friends from beasties that attacked our campsite.

His smile reached his eyes. A blush burned my cheeks.

He arched an eyebrow, amused.

Was he mocking me?

“I was looking for a signal.” I broke my gaze to hide my lie. “For my phone. You know, WiFi.”

“Try the foyer. It’s a security issue.”

“I know that.” Which made no damn sense.

It was impossible to think straight because someone had made the executive decision to suck out all the oxygen from the room, or so it felt.

With a tug of his shirt he hid that other tattoo to the right of his lower abdomen, a Latin inscription leading to his groin immortalized in italic black ink.

“Excuse the—” he gestured to his state of undress “—I’m running late.”

This kind of manly perfection obviously knew just how beautiful he was, the way he blinked at me casually, the way he firmly weaved that bow tie around his collar without using a mirror and making quick work of forming that silk into a neat knot, and all the while his eyes not leaving mine.

Until I dragged my gaze from his to look around the room. On a table close by to him rested a black motorcycle helmet with its tinted visor down. Leather gloves beside it.

He moved with a sophisticated elegance that had me doubt­ing I’d caught his body inked so seductively. A waft of expen­sive musky cologne reached me with its sensuous allure and did something crazy to my body. Trembling slightly, I shifted my gait and leaned further back against the door, spellbound.

Nature might have bestowed this man with the ability to leave a trail of heartbreak in his sexy-arse wake but it had also provided me with the ability to detect danger.

“You might want to put some clothes on,” I said firmly.

“Well, now I’m dressed.”

Yes, he was, and this was a changing room, apparently, and I’d not exactly represented a pillar of virtue.

“Well that’s good.” I swallowed my pride. “Please keep it that way.”

His gaze lowered to my feet.

And I remembered my strappy stilettos were flirtatiously dangling from my left hand, those spiked heels hinting at a sexy side I wished I had.

Intrigue marred his face, and then his expression softened again as his jade gaze returned to hold mine and he broke into a heart-stopping smile.

The seductive dazzling kind that threatened to melt my panties. I left in a rush—

Shaken with just how this man had affected me merely with a smile, my heart racing, I reconsidered risking the lift to take me as far away from him as possible. Embarrassment scorched my cheeks and made me glad I’d not worn a coat.

Taking a second, I leaned against the wall and stared back.

That alluring inked-up vision had taken my mind off the reason I was here. I felt an inexplicable need to run back in and continue to bathe in the aura of the most enigmatic man I’d ever met.

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About the Author:

Vanessa Fewings is the USA Today bestselling author of the ENTHRALL SESSIONS.

THE CHASE is the first in her sizzling new romantic trilogy from HQN Books and will be released in June 2017, followed by THE GAME & THE PRIZE.

Vanessa is also the author of The Stone Masters Vampire Series. Prior to publishing, Vanessa worked as a registered nurse and midwife. She holds a Masters Degree in Psychology. She has traveled extensively throughout the world and has lived in Germany, Hong Kong, and Cyprus.

Born and raised in England, Vanessa now proudly calls herself an American and resides in California with her husband.

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My Best Friend’s Ex by Meghan Quinn

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My Best Friend’s Ex, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy from Meghan Quinn is available now!

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My Best Friend’s Ex by Meghan Quinn
Publication Date: June 1st, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

When I found an eviction notice taped on my apartment door, I had two options: find a comfortable cardboard box to call home, or move in with Tucker Jameson.

Seeing that cardboard makes me feel itchy, I chose the latter. Which shouldn’t be that big of a deal since Tucker is one of my good friends. And because he’s still pining after his ex-girlfriend and I’m trying to finish my nursing degree, there is nothing to worry about in the romance department, making my last semester an easy one to conquer.

Boy, was I wrong.

Rules are set, dinners are made, conversations are had, and a shirtless, swoony roommate walks around in nothing but a pair of black briefs, ruining me for every other man.

Before I know it, I turn into a panting, lust-filled woman begging for Tucker to kiss me, touch me, and show me exactly what is hiding under those briefs.

But with great orgasms, comes great consequences.

Tucker might be my friend and roommate but he’s also my best friend’s ex-boyfriend, making him completely off-limits. At least that’s what my brain is telling me, my heart is speaking an entirely different language.

Excerpt:

“Morning,” Tucker’s deep voice rattles off the cabinets. It’s his morning voice, deeper, throatier—if that makes sense—and I hate to admit it, because he’s just my friend, but sexier.

Once my pupils adjust to the light, I take Tucker in. He’s standing in front of the stove, rubber spatula in hand, wearing a white long-sleeve Henley shirt, the top two buttons undone, a pair of worn jeans with a few paint stains on them, and tan work boots. Sweet Jesus, he makes construction look good. Strap a tool belt around his waist and stick him in front of a camera for the benefit of all womankind.

“Morning,” I say in reply, using the counter to help hold up my tired body. “You’re up early. What time do you have to go into work?”

“Around seven thirty. I like to get an early start before the boys come in.” He looks me up and down, a small smile at the corner of his lips. “You look good.” He motions around his head with his hand. “I really like what you did with your hair.”

I turn toward the window in the kitchen and check out my reflection. Sure enough, my long brown hair looks like a lion’s mane poofed out and framing my face with an abundance of volume. Beautiful.

There is no use in taming it, so I leave my hair as is and turn back toward Tucker. “Not many people can get this kind of height while sleeping.” I pretend to fluff my hair.

“Impressive.” He chuckles and then points to the coffee maker with the spatula. “Coffee is done, mugs are above in the cabinet. Grab me a cup, will ya? Eggs will be done shortly, bacon is warming in the oven.”

I do as directed, thinking it’s kind of cute how he’s including me in on his little morning breakfast. “I didn’t even know you had eggs. I was expecting to hit up Dunkin’ Donuts or Tim Horton’s this morning.”

He turns off the stove and reaches for two plates from the dish rack. “I went to Walmart this morning. Picked up a few things.”

“This morning?” I pour two cups of coffee and turn toward him. “What time did you wake up?”

“Four thirty,” he answers casually. “Got a quick run in, did some weights, took a shower and then went to Walmart.” He fills our plates with bacon and eggs and then nods toward the dining room, plates and silverware in hand. “I have a surprise.”

I follow him to the dining room where he flips on the light and reveals a card table fold-out dining set.

“You got a table.” I chuckle, loving that it’s a fold-out card table with matching chairs. Anything is better than the floor.

“And placemats,” he adds, as he lifts two plastic placemats from one of the chairs. “The options were bleak so I went with dinosaurs for me and Trolls for you. Given the look of your morning hair, Trolls was the right choice.” Clever bastard. He sets them on the table and then puts our plates on top of them.

God, it’s too freaking cute. Chuckling, I take a seat and hand him his coffee. “Look at you getting all domestic. I never thought you would be a placemat kind of man, I stand corrected.”

He rests a napkin on his legs, which are spread drastically, almost the length of the table and leans over to fork some eggs into his mouth. “Didn’t want our food to damage the plastic of this high-class table.” I love the humor in his voice, it reminds me of all the good times we had, before the end of his relationship with Sadie.

“Smart man, you want this table to last.”

“Of course, you don’t see fine furniture like this in houses anymore. Everything has to be so sturdy. What ever happened to rickety furniture and living through a meal with the threat of your food possibly kissing the floor at any point in time?”

“The horror,” I joke.

He looks up at me. Some of his hair is still wet from his shower. Pointing his fork at me he says, “Are you ready to be schooled?”

“Schooled on what?” I take a bite of bacon and my stomach jumps in excitement for finally rewarding it for waking up early. All right, I will admit it, getting out of bed was a smart idea.

“It’s Monday, babe. DJ Hot Cock has his song picked and ready to show you what real music is.”

“When was my music taste ever questioned? I like good music.”

“We’ll see.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. I watch as he flips through it until he lands on the song he wants to introduce me to. He presses play and sets his phone on the table. The light pickings of a guitar fill the small dining room. I don’t recognize the song, but I like the sound of it so far.

Just as I’m settling in to the sweet pickings of a guitar, the distinct voice of Zac Brown chimes in. I’ve known Tucker for loving EMO growing up, so his choice in a country song is very surprising to me, but when I look up at him, pure hometown country boy sitting across from me, it makes perfect sense.

And then the lyrics hit me. My Old Man. Zac sings about his father, hoping he’s proud of the man he’s become. I’m transported back to a dreary day in Whitney Point, where we grew up, when Sadie called me one Saturday morning. I was getting ready for the day. We were in middle school. Tucker’s dad was killed by a head-on collision, the dad Tucker just reconnected with, the dad Tucker had plans on moving in with to get away from his neglectful mom. Those next few days—and weeks—were a whirlwind of sorrow. Attending his funeral, my first ever funeral, seeing the look of devastation on Tucker’s face, wondering what he might be feeling, trying to channel his hurt, it was so much to take on as a teenager.

Glancing up, I take in Tucker’s expression. He’s lost in the music, in the words, just like me. When the song ends, I lean over and place my hand on his, our eyes meet and there is an unspoken understanding between us. I don’t have to say anything about his dad, about the tragedy we went through so many years ago together as friends. It’s all said between this silent exchange.

MBFE-AN

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About the Author:

A BLONDE AT HEART

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

​Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

MeghanQuinn

 

Connect with Meghan:

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Game of Chance (Vegas Heat book 1) by Erika Wilde

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Game of Chance
by Erika Wilde
Publication Date: June 8th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Game of Chance, a sexy STANDALONE from Erika Wilde is now live!!!

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A former Marine and Las Vegas vice cop, Nathan Fox has seen it all and then some. Heading up security for the Onyx Casino is tame compared to his dark past, but it’s not his only job. Working for the Reliance Group is his real passion project. His current case: a missing woman. His mission: to find her. Easy enough, until he finds himself tangled up with sexy Nicole Hutton, a stubborn—and stunning—journalist who’s nosed her way into his investigation . . . and into his dirty, erotic fantasies.

Resisting Nicole is impossible, and he soon discovers that in this dangerous high stakes game of chance, falling in love is the greatest risk of all.

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Meet Erika Wilde:

Erika Wilde (aka Janelle Denison) is the USA Today bestselling author of over 50 contemporary romances for multiple print publishers.

Connect with Erika Wilde:

Sign up for Erika’s Newsletter at: http://smarturl.it/ErikaWildeNewsletter
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Twitter: http://www.twitter.com@erikawilde1
Erika’s Website: www.erikawilde.com

Duke of Manhattan by Louise Bay

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Duke of Manhattan by Louise Bay
Release Date: May 16th
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Duke of Manhattan, an all-new contemporary romance by Louise Bay is available now!!!

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I was born into British aristocracy, but I’ve made my fortune in Manhattan. New York is now my kingdom.

Back in Britain my family are fighting over who’s the next Duke of Fairfax. The rules say it’s me–if I’m married. It’s not a trade-off worth making. I could never limit myself to just one woman.

Or so I thought until my world is turned upside down. Now, the only way I can save the empire I built is to inherit the title I’ve never wanted — so I need a wife.

To take my mind off business I need a night that’s all pleasure. I need to bury myself in a stranger.

The skim of Scarlett King’s hair over my body as she bends over . . .

The scrape of her nails across my chest as she screams my name . . .

The bite of her teeth on my shoulder just as we both reach the edge . . .

It all helps me forget.

I just didn’t bargain on finding my one night stand across the boardroom table the next day.

She might be my latest conquest but I have a feeling Scarlett King might just conquer me.

A sexy, standalone romance.

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Louise Bay has done it once again! She’s given us another sexy, dominant, male in Manhattan. Only, this guy is British aristocracy. I wondered when I picked it up if this was going to be another marriage of convenience story but it was so much better.

Scarlett has been divorced for the past two years and is done with the dating scene, so she throws herself into her fragrance company, which seriously needs cash flow. Ryder deals with investments, and has quite the successful company. He’s called back home when his grandfather, the duke, has a fall. Ryder is set to inherit the title, but he has to be married , or the title reverts to his jerk of a cousin, Frederick.

When one-night stand Scarlett shows up looking for help, Ryder has an interesting solution for Scarlett. Then, it’s proving their relationship to everyone, including Frederick. Just a fun, sexy read from Louise. This carries on the Manhattan series with the awesomeness we come to love from Ms Bay!

5 Royal Stars

5starreview

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About the Author:

USA Today bestselling author, Louise Bay writes sexy, contemporary romance novels – the kind she likes to read. Her books include the novels Faithful and Hopeful and the novella series’ The Empire State Series, What the Lightning Sees and Calling Me. The novels and together the series are stand-alone although there are some overlapping characters.

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

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

She loves to hear from readers so get in touch!

Connect with Louise:

Faceboook: https://www.facebook.com/authorlouisebay/
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Website: http://www.louisebay.com

The Negotiator by Avery Flynn

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The Negotiator, an all-new sexy, romantic comedy standalone from Avery Flynn is now LIVE!!!

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The Negotiator by Avery Flynn

Release Date: April 24th, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Wanted: Personal Buffer

Often snarly, workaholic executive seeks “buffer” from annoying outside distractions AKA people. Free spirits with personal boundary issues, excessive quirks, or general squeamishness need not apply. Salary negotiable. Confidentiality required.

Workaholic billionaire Sawyer Carlyle may have joked he needed a buffer from their marriage-obsessed mom, but he didn’t need a waiting room filled with candidates to further distract him. (Thanks, bro.) But when a sexy job applicant shooes his mom and the socialite in tow out of his office, Sawyer sees the genius of the plan. And the woman. In fact, Miss Clover Lee might just get the fastest promotion in history, from buffer to fake fiancé…

This free-spirit might look like hot sunshine and lickable rainbows, but she negotiates like a pitbull. Before Sawyer knows what hit him, he’s agreed to give up Friday nights for reality tv, his Saturdays for flea markets (why buy junk still baffles him), his Tuesdays and Thursdays for date nights (aka panty-losing opportunities if he plays his cards right). And now she wants lavender bath salts and tulips delivered every Monday?

Yup, she’s just screwing with him. Good thing she’s got this non-negotiable six-weeks-and-she’s-gone rule or Sawyer may have just met this match

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I love Avery Flynn’s books, and the Negotiator is a great example of why I love them so, so much. Take a cranky, crabby, workaholic boss Sawyer Carlyle. Then add his tointimidating mother, and a younger brother who decides to solve big brother’s mommy issues by taking an ad out in the paper for a buffer.

Sawyer ends up with a woman who tells his  mother off and is the complete opposite of his type, but you know what they say. I positively loved Clover Lee and thought she was a wonderful foil for Sawyer, she helped him to let loose and see what was really important.

This was just a wonderful Rom-com that’s so uplifting and the sex scenes were out of this world!

5 Stars

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Excerpt:

A teasing promise lit her eyes. “And I never would have guessed you didn’t have any experience working with your hands.”

Now that was just a straight up lie. “I never said that. You know very well that I’m good with my hands.” He reached out and tucked a stray blonde hair behind her ear, letting his touch linger. “Very good.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t move away as his fingers trailed down the soft column of her neck. Her pulse thrummed under his touch and one glance down at the hard peaks pushing against her thin T-shirt confirmed she was skating along the same fault line between sanity and lust that he was.

“Are you flirting with me?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“No.” He didn’t flirt. That was Hudson. Sawyer was the grumpy brother. He never flirted. Still, his hand didn’t drop from where he was touching her and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her perfect pink mouth.

“Of course not.” She leaned forward, cutting the distance between them, so close he could feel her soft breath against his skin. “That would violate the contract.”

The temptation to dip his head the few inches to kiss her had his entire body hard and wound tight with anticipation. Lust ran through him like a runaway freight train. The little voice in the back of his head screaming that this was a bad idea suffered the same fate as it had in the supply closet last night: death by ignoring. Clover Lee had that effect on him. It was going to be a very long month and a half.

“The napkin didn’t say anything about flirting,” he said.

No, he was totally free to give himself blue balls the size of watermelons every time he came near his personal buffer.

“Ah-ha!” The triumphant sound escaped her lush lips as she straightened, expanding the space between them and dislodging his hand from her soft skin. “You are flirting.”

Was he? No. He was torturing himself. That was a very different sort of hell. “You take all the fun out of things.”

“No way.” She shook her head, the movement letting a few more silky strands loose from the knot on the top of her head. “I am the definition of fun. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be in your office banging on your keyboard.”

“I don’t bang.”

“Not me, you don’t,” She shot him a cocky smirk. “It’s in the contract.”

TN-AN

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About the Author:

Avery Flynn is an award winning, USA Today bestselling  romance author. She has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

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Twitter: @averyflynn

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