Coming June 13th!!! More Than Need You (More Than Words Series) by Shayla Black

Release Date: June 13, 2017

Designer: Rachel Connolly

Photographer: Sara Eirew

Add To GoodReads Here

I’m Griffin Reed—cutthroat entrepreneur and competitive bastard. Trust is a four-letter word and everyone is disposable…except Britta Stone. Three years ago, she was my everything before I stupidly threw her away. I thought I’d paid for my sin in misery—until I learned we have a son. Finding out she’s engaged to a bore who’s rushing her to the altar pisses me off even more. I intend to win her back and raise our boy. I’ll have to get ruthless, of course. Luckily, that’s one of my most singular talents.

Sixty days. That’s what I’m asking the gritty, independent single mother to give me—twenty-four/seven. Under my roof. And if I have my way, in my bed. Britta says she wants nothing to do with me. But her body language and passionate kisses make her a liar. Now all I have to do is coax her into surrendering to the old magic between us. Once I have her right where I want her, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I more than need her.

This book is the second in the More Than Words series. The books are companions, not serials, meaning that backstory, secondary characters, and other elements will be easier to relate to if you read the installments in order, but the main romance of each book is a stand-alone.

This book contains lines that may make you laugh, events that may make you cry, and scenes that will probably have you squirming in your seat. Don’t worry about cliffhangers. HEA guaranteed! (Does not contain elements of BDSM or romantic suspense.)

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More Than Want You, Book 1

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Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than fifty novels. For nearly twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.

Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.

Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her teenage daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.

 

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Catering to His Desires by Rose C Carole

cateringtohisdesires_9781786511492_xlrg-180x288

Blurb:

Mya believed she didn’t deserve love. Jake thought he could never love again. But a threat to Mya’s life galvanizes Jake’s protective instincts—and opens his heart.

Mya has finally escaped the slums she grew up in and made a life for herself as a chef in the Catered Affairs kitchen, but she has never been able to shed the feelings of inadequacy that were beaten into her by her abusive father. So she stays in the shadows, the quintessential voyeur at the Playground, the BDSM club she belongs to.

Jake is attracted to Mya’s beauty when he spies her across the dungeon at the Playground. But he’s only looking for a play partner for the evening. Ever since he lost his wife in a car crash, he hasn’t been able to commit to anyone again.

After a disastrous evening at the club, where Jake pushes Mya out of her comfort zone, it looks like Mya and Jake will not even be friends. But dangerous circumstances push them back together, and Mya must rely on Jake to keep her safe. When a stupid mistake puts her in terrible jeopardy, will Jake be able to come to her rescue in time?

Reader Advisory: This book contains descriptions of domestic abuse, violence and death. Kidnapping and captivity, and resultant trauma post kidnapping and captivity. References to alcoholism and abusive parenting. One scene of anal play/double penetration.

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Catering To His Desires is the second book in a series about a group of women who own and run a catering company. This book concentrates on chef Mya and Jake, the lawyer from book one who helped Rebecca’s man. Of course, I’ve come in on book two. (I’ll be grabbing book one though.) This is a completely standalone book, and I didn’t need any prior information to follow along.

I will admit, I came close to pulling the plug a couple of times because of Mya’s behavior. She sticks to the shadows of the BDSM club she’s a member of, gets jealous of her friend finding her Dom, then a hot, hunky Dom tries to scene with her and she freaks out.

Lucky for her, Jake seems to like her. But her behavior just keeps on going into the crapper when he takes her for coffee. Later, an old friend of hers ends up needing help she just can’t provide and she ends up having to call Jake. Mya has self-esteem problems from her upbringing, which accounts for most of her behavior.

When her friend’s situation becomes dangerous to her, she becomes much closer to Jake, but can he keep her safe?

I enjoyed the writing in this book as Ms Carole weaves an excellent tale. I’ll definitely be following the series, and I’m looking forward to the other ladies stories.

4 Kink-a-delic stars

4starreview

Book is in wide-release on May 2, 2017 but you can buy now on
Totally Bound
Pre-Order Links:

Amazon/Amazon UK/Kobo

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12 More Days Until You Are OWNED!

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OWNED BY THE ALPHA

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The Alpha lives for the hunt…

Driven by instinct, an Alpha shifter recognizes his fated mate from one scent, one touch. He’ll pursue his woman, regardless of the cost, and anyone else would be smart to get out of his way. He won’t stop until he takes possession of his prize.

Although the hunter doesn’t need convincing, his mate certainly does. The Alpha will have to prove himself as a lover and convince his woman that he plays for keeps.

160,000 words

Scent of Destiny by Rose Wulf

Taken Mate by Sam Crescent

Finders Keepers by Stacey Espino

The Hunt by Doris O’Connor

Alpha at Altitude by Lily Harlem

Fated to the Razorback Demon by Maia Dylan

Running Home by Michelle Graham

Alpha’s Sunshine by Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Checkmate by Wren Michaels

Frozen Heart by Beth D. Carter

Wolf Hunter by Elena Kincaid

Returning to the Coyote by Roberta Winchester

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OWNED BY THE ALPHA: MANLOVE EDITION 

The Alpha lives for the hunt…

Driven by instinct, an Alpha shifter recognizes his fated mate from one scent, one touch. He’ll pursue his man, regardless of the cost, and anyone else would be smart to get out of his way. He won’t stop until he takes possession of his prize.

Although the hunter doesn’t need convincing, his mate certainly does. The Alpha will have to prove himself as a lover and convince his man that he plays for keeps.]

90,000 words

A Tiger’s Luck by Maia Dylan

Last Alpha Standing by James Cox

Mooncrest by Jules Dixon

His Guardian Panther by Elena Kincaid

The Scarf by L.J. Longo

A Matter of Trust by Pelaam

Conflict of Interest by L.D. Blakeley

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Print Coming Soon

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Pre-Order Prowlers and Growlers! Author Spotlight Aliyah Burke!

Grab this special pre-order price before it goes up!

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Join the dark side with ***ALL NEW*** stories from some of your favorite NY Times, USA Today, and Award Winning, Bestselling authors.
Step into the shadows with witches, werewolves, shifters, vampires, and soul mates: the sizzling hot alphas you love.
Are you fated to find your fantasy lover in these seductive, steamy pages bursting with danger and desire? 
Claim your book boyfriend now!


 

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When The Snow Flies by Gina Kincade & Kiki Howell
USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Authors
 
Dark Verité by Muffy Wilson
USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
The Jaguar’s Consort by Aliyah Burke
USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
Hades Playground by Isis Pierce
USA Today Bestselling Author
 
Under The Crescent Moon by Amy Lee Burgess
USA Today Bestselling Author
 
The Demon The Witch and The Firebird by Phoenix Johnson
International Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
Changes by Angelica Dawson
International Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
Arcane by Erzabet Bishop
International Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
Chicks Dig Scars by Kathleen Grieve
International Bestselling Author
 
Swelter by K.C. Stewart
International Bestselling Author
 
Dark Melody by Megan J Parker
International Bestselling Author
 
Starbright by Ashlynn Monroe
International Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
Sorrows Beginning by S. E. Babin
International Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
Shadows Mark by Nicole Morgan
International Bestselling Author
 
Mated by Kallysten
International Bestselling Author
 
Fallen In Sin by Marissa Farrar
International Bestselling Author
 
Lion by Her Side by Ever Coming
International Bestselling Author
 
Immortal Alchemy by Savannah Verte
International Bestselling and Award Winning Author
 
Stolen Magic by Joanna Mazurkiewicz
International Bestselling Author
 
Call Of The Beast by Erica Reeder
International Bestselling Author
 
Shifting Scales by Decadent Kane
International Bestselling Author



The Jaguar’s Consort by Aliyah Burke

USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Author

Sometimes you’re more than just a mate…



 The Jaguar’s Consort

by

Aliyah Burke

USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Author
@AliyahBurke96

Lando Vargas has known since he was a boy who his mate is to be and he waited for her to grow up. While Selena Rowe remembers the boy he was, she’s unsure about what he’s telling her in regards to their future together. In fact, what he’s talking about has just been fairytales in her mind.
He convinces her to come for a visit in Brazil, with her friends, to give him a chance to prove it all. She won’t deny the intense physical attraction between them, however, she doesn’t want to give up her own life. What will it take for her to accept her role as the jaguar’s consort?

 

 

She
yawned. “I swear I just went to bed. So, what is it that has you here at my
door three times in less than a day. It can’t be my parents they’re…” She
cleared her throat. “…Not on this continent.”
Her
pulse kicked up and he couldn’t miss the tinge of anger lining her tone.
Interesting. A mystery to solve later on for sure. “I told you. I came here for
you.”
“And
I’m pretty sure I told you that makes you sound stalkerish. So since I’m
exhausted and have a busy day today, you tell me and move along, so I can start
my day way earlier than I had intended.”
“Sarcasm
is sexy on you.”
She
blinked twice and rolled her eyes. “You have sixty seconds to start talking.”
“What
happened to the happy woman who was here last night?” His palms itched to touch
her again. Appease that hunger within him.
“She
has a hangover and is exhausted. But hey, let’s expect me to be cheerful.”
“Perhaps
you should eat something.”
“I had
planned on it. You know, when I woke up hours from now.”
“I’ll
make you something.” He moved to her kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket and
laying it over the back of a chair. “Give me a few minutes.” Lando had no
problem cooking for her. Hell, he’d be fine taking care of her for the rest of
their lives. She just had to come with him back to Brazil.
“Of
course,” she stated drily. “I’m so used to hot men walking into my place and
offering to cook me breakfast.”
He
paused in his search of her fridge. Angling his head, so he could meet her
eyes, he cocked an eyebrow. “Hot? Glad you think so.”
“Of
course, that’s what you would pick out of that statement.”
“It’s
the most important.”
She
smiled, eliciting another purr from his beast. And himself.
Selena
tugged up the shoulder on her shirt, covering the bared skin as she made her
way to one of the chairs around the kitchen table. “What is it I can do for
you, Mr. Vargas?”
“You
have nothing in here,” he said, not answering her question. “Why don’t you have
food in your fridge?”
“I
just got back from a trip and haven’t been shopping.”
Okay,
she had a valid point.
The
scrape of her chair was his only warning she’d moved close. When he turned, she
was there. Right up against him. Tempting him. Daring him.
Gods
help him, he wanted nothing more than to sink his hands in her curls, haul her
close and kiss her. When she was putty in his arms, he wanted to strip her
clothing, and lick her from top to bottom. For starters.
“I’ve
not seen you in years. Why are you here?”
“I
came to bring you home.”
“I am
home. This is where I live. This is where I work.”

 

“But
not where you belong.” He cupped the back of her neck, the connection of their
skin awaking everything within him. The electricity flowed from her to him and
back again. “You know I’m right. You feel it, with nothing more than a simple
touch to your neck. The urge, the need for more. To take off your clothes and
rub against me.” He lowered his head, so it nearly touched hers.
 

 

How long have you
been a writer and how did you come to writing?
I’ve been writing for over ten years now. For me it began
in college when the voices wouldn’t shut up in my head. They were driving me to
distraction and it was hard to focus on my major until I gave them their own
attention. Now they just demand all the time *grin*
How did you come
up with this storyline?
Not really sure, the story took me on the journey. I’m
a pantzer for sure. I don’t plot out my stories, they take me where they want
to go. Since it was a short (at least for me) it was a bit harder and I had to
do a bit more reining in however, when I was first thinking about it, they were
going to end up in the States. That didn’t happen.
What are the best
and the worst aspects of writing?
For me the worst would be my nerves on release day. I’ve done a
bunch of releases and I’m still horribly nervous as I was for my first one. I’m
back to that “Oh this is nothing but crap” feeling and it doesn’t go away for a
while.
The best, easy, I
get to play in worlds that are far from reality as I want them to be. I’m
surrounded by happily every afters. And to me, especially now in this day and
age, it’s much more pleasant for me to be there.
What inspires you
to write?
I guess I
don’t think of it as being inspired, the world is full of storylines if you
take the time to look around you. It’s a need for me, if that makes sense, it
calms me down, putting words to paper, and yes, I still use a notebook and pen.
Happily. Some I put directly into the computer but most of my books I hand
write first. It’s soothing, to create.
How did you conduct your research for **The Jaguar’s
Consort**?
For The
Jaguar’s Consort
, I spent some time researching extinct big cats, jaguars
and leopards more precisely. Found the region I wanted my book around, given I
knew how the hero and heroine met, then branched out from there.
What are 3 of
your favorite quotes from **
The Jaguar’s Consort**?
“One…by your answer just now and
two, you seem a bit too untamed to be from Miami.”
***
Lando licked his lips and counted down the seconds until he could lick
hers.
*** 
Do people call the men in the little ‘I love myself’ coats when you
tell them this line?
*** 
Yes, these would be three of my faves. I had a lot of fun writing this
book.
 
What would your
friends say is your best quality?
Can’t speak for my friends, but
I would hope it was that I’m there for them whenever they need me.
Are reader reviews important to you? Why?
Of course,
reviews (constructive ones) can provide us with insight on how people are
taking our creations. I appreciate each and every person who leaves one for my
stories.
What do you do
when you don’t write? Like in “Real Life”
Real life? I work about 60hrs a week outside the house as well. We have
dogs that I race, course, and show. We also do therapy work so typically once a
week or so I have a dog at a hospital, school, hospice, or something of the
sort. We’ve also done private visits to homebound people. Oh, and I try to
read. Like this year, I took the Goodreads challenge and said I could do 100
books this year. Gonna be interesting but I’m determined.
Tell us about
your other books?
I write across
genres, historical, paranormal, and contemporary. Most of my books are
interracial/multicultural and tend to have some aspect of military in them.
They all don’t but it is one of my favorite things to write about, military.
If you could
share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know what would
it be?
While I am
horribly shy I love talking/emailing with readers. I will answer each email
personally, and it may take me a bit longer than those who have PA’s but I feel
it’s important for that to be a personal touch that doesn’t go away.
 
Thank you
so much for hanging out with me today! I had a lovely time. Thank you for the
support of my writing.
Happy reading y’all!
~Aliyah Burke

Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached via her contact form. She can also be found on Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest. Instagram, Bookbub, Amazon Author page and of course her website.

She is married to a career military man. They are happily owned by four Borzoi. She spends her days sharing time between work, writing, and dog training.

 


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Prowlers and Growlers Anthology Preorder!

Grab this special pre-order price before it
goes up!

99c

 

Join the dark side with ***ALL NEW*** stories from
some of your favorite NY Times, USA Today, and Award Winning,
Bestselling authors.

Step into the shadows with witches, werewolves,
shifters, vampires, and soul mates: the sizzling hot alphas you
love.
Are you fated to find your fantasy lover in these
seductive, steamy pages bursting with danger and
desire? 
Claim your book boyfriend now!


 

 

When The Snow Flies by Gina Kincade
& Kiki Howell

USA Today Bestselling
and Award Winning Authors


Dark Verité by Muffy Wilson

USA Today Bestselling
and Award Winning Author


The Jaguar’s Consort by Aliyah Burke

USA Today Bestselling
and Award Winning Author

Hades Playground by Isis Pierce

USA Today Bestselling
Author

Under The Crescent Moon by Amy Lee
Burgess

USA Today Bestselling
Author

The Demon The Witch and The Firebird
by Phoenix Johnson

International
Bestselling and Award Winning Author

Changes by Angelica Dawson

International
Bestselling and Award Winning Author

Arcane by Erzabet Bishop

International
Bestselling and Award Winning Author


Chicks Dig Scars by Kathleen Grieve

International
Bestselling Author


Swelter by K.C. Stewart

International
Bestselling Author


Dark Melody by Megan J Parker

International
Bestselling Author


Starbright by Ashlynn Monroe

International
Bestselling and Award Winning Author


Sorrows Beginning by S. E. Babin

International
Bestselling and Award Winning Author


Shadows Mark by Nicole Morgan

International
Bestselling Author

Mated by Kallysten

International
Bestselling Author


Fallen In Sin by Marissa Farrar

International
Bestselling Author


Lion by Her Side by Ever Coming

International
Bestselling Author


Immortal Alchemy by Savannah Verte

International
Bestselling and Award Winning Author


Stolen Magic
by 
Joanna Mazurkiewicz

International
Bestselling Author


Call Of The Beast by Erica Reeder

International
Bestselling Author


Shifting Scales by Decadent Kane

International
Bestselling Author

 
 
Steamy & Dreamy: A Collection of Sizzling
Romance,
Fairytales, and more!
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Edition Collection
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Book Announcement!!! Lisa Renee Jones and New Book Provocative!

SBPRBanner-PROVOCATIVE-BA

Provocative (White Lies Book One) by Lisa Renee Jones
Release Date: April 18th
Genre: Contemporary Romance

A Note from the author:

Hi everyone!

I am BEYOND excited to introduce my WHITE LIES DUET! This is a sexy, intense, psychological thriller, that is provocative in every way, thus why I named book one: PROVOCATIVE. And since this series takes me back to my indie roots, the pricing is lower than my New York titles, and the release dates are close together.

Here are the details on the series:

    • PROVOCATIVE, book one, will be out on April 18, 2017 and priced at $2.99 – includes the free novella REBECCA’S FORGOTTEN JOURNALS for those readers who purchase during release week or pre-order where pre-order is available.

 

  • SHAMELESS, book two, will be out on July 11, 2017 and priced at $3.99

 

 

  • BOTH books will be full-length!

 

 

  • I’m also giving away prizes on my blog every day in April to celebrate! Entry is super easy. Just comment! The link to my blog is HERE so be sure to subscribe!

 

And now, without further ado, the covers for the duet, blurb for book one, and CHAPTER ONE of PROVOCATIVE! I can’t wait for you to meet the dirty talking alpha, Nick “Tiger” Rogers. I hope you enjoy him as much as I enjoyed writing him!

Provocative Final Border

ABOUT THE BOOK

Book one in the sexy and intense new White Lies duet by Lisa Renee Jones!

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I walked into Sonoma’s Reid Winter Winery and Vineyard and made eye contact with Faith Winter for the first time was one of those moments. Provocative because I know at least one of her secrets, of which, I suspect she has many. Provocative because she believes I was a stranger to her when we met, but I am not. Provocative because I sought her out, with no intention of touching her. But now I have. Now I want her. Now I have to have her. But that changes nothing. It doesn’t change why I came for her.

Pre-Order PROVOCATIVE Today!

Special $2.99 pre-order price – will increase after release!

Amazon alert: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeAmazonAlert

B&N: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeBN

iBooks: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeiBooks

Kobo: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeKobo

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34602810-provocative

Read Chapter One Now:

pro·voc·a·tive

adjective

    1. causing annoyance, anger, or another strong reaction, especially deliberately.

 

  • arousing sexual desire or interest, especially deliberately.

 

Chapter One

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I stepped into the mansion that is the centerpiece of the Reid Winter Vineyards and Winery wasn’t one of those moments. Nor were any of the moments I spent weaving through a crowd of suits and dresses cluttering the circle that is the grand foyer of the 1800’s mansion, fancy tiles etched with vines beneath my feet. Nor the ones spent declining three different waiters offering me glasses of various wines from one of the most established vineyards in Sonoma, meant to entice me to buy their bottles and donate money to the charity hosting the gathering. Not even the instant that I spotted the stunning blonde in a snug black dress that hugged her many lush curves proved to be one of those moments, but I would call it a damn interesting one. The moment I decided the blonde silk of her long hair belonged in my hands and on my stomach was also a damn interesting one. And not because she’s fuckable. There are plenty of fuckable women in my life, a number of whom understand that I enjoy demands for pleasure, which I will definitely provide, and nothing more. This woman is too prim and proper to ever agree to such an arrangement, and yet, knowing this, as she and her heart-shaped backside disappear into the congestion of bodies, I find myself pursuing her, looking for more than an interesting moment. I want that provocative one.

I follow her path formed by huddles of two, three, or more people, left and right, to clear a portion of the crowd, scanning to find my beauty standing several feet away, her back to me, with two men in blue suits in front of her. And while they might appear to blend with the rest of the suits in the room, they hold themselves like the parasites I meet too often in the courtroom, those who most often call themselves my opposing counsel. My blonde beauty folds her arms in front of her chest, her spine stiff, and if I read her right–and I read most people right–I am certain that she’s found trouble. But lucky for her, trouble doesn’t like me near as much as I like it.

Closing the space between me and them, I near their little triangle just in time to hear her say, “Are we really doing this here and now?”

“Yes, Ms. Winter,” one of the men replies. “We are.”

“Actually,” I say, stepping to Ms. Winter’s side, her floral scent almost as sweet as the challenge of conquering her opponents that are now mine, “we are not doing this here or now.”

All attention shifts to me, Ms. Winter giving me a sharp stare that I feel rather than see, my focus remaining on the men I want to leave, not the woman I want to make come. “And you would be who?” the suit directly in front of me demands.

I size him up as barely out of his twenty-something diapers, without experience, the glint in his eye telling me he doesn’t realize that flaw, which makes him about as smooth as a six-dollar glass of wine everyone in this place would spit the fuck out. A point driven home by the fact that he’s wearing a three hundred-dollar Italian silk tie, and a hundred-dollar suit, no doubt hoping the tie makes the suit look expensive, and him important. He’s wrong.

“I said, who are you?” he repeats when I apparently haven’t replied quickly enough, his impatience becoming my virtue as my role as cat in this game of cat and mouse is too easily established.

Unwilling to waste words on a predictable, expected question that I’d never ask, I simply reach into the pocket of my three-thousand-dollar light gray suit, which I earned by beating opponents with ten times his experience and negotiation skills, and finger the unimportant prick my card.

He snaps it from my hand, gives it a look that confirms my name and the firm I started a decade ago now, after daring to leave behind a certain partnership in a high-powered firm. “Nick Rogers?” he asks. “Is there another name on the card?” I ask, because, I’m also a fearless smartass every chance I get.

He stares at me for several beats, seeming to calculate his words, before asking, “How many Mr. Rogers sweater jokes do you get?”

I arch a brow at the misguided joke that only serves to poke the Tiger. Suit Number Two, who I age closer to my thirty-six years, pales visibly, then snatches the card from the other man’s hand, giving it a quick inspection before his gaze then jerks to mine. “The Nick Rogers?”

“I don’t remember my mother putting the word ‘the’ in front of my name,” I reply dryly, but then again, I think, she didn’t ask my father, to change my last name either. She just hated him that much.

“Tiger,” he says, and it’s not a question, but rather a statement of “oh shit” fact.

“That’s right,” I say, enjoying the fruits of my labor that created the nickname, not one given to me by my friends.

“Who, or what, the fuck is Tiger all about?” Suit Number One asks.

“Shut up,” Suit Number Two grunts, refocusing on me to ask, “You’re representing Ms. Winter?”

“What I am,” I say, “is standing right here by her side, telling you that it’s in your best interests to leave.”

“Since when do you handle small-time foreclosures?” he demands, exposing the crux of Ms. Winter’s situation.

“I handle whatever the fuck I want to handle,” I say, my tone even, my lips curving as I add, “Including the process of having you both escorted off the property by security.”

“That,” Suit Number One dares to retort, “would garner Ms. Winter unwanted attention in the middle of a busy event. Not that Ms. Winter even has security to call.”

“Fortunately, I have a phone that dials 911 and the ability to call it without asking her.”

If she’s your client,” Suit Number One says, clearly inferring that she’s not, “you’re obligated to operate with her best interests in mind.”

“My decisions,” I reply, without missing a beat, and without claiming Ms. Winter as a client, “are always about winning. And I assure you that I can think of many ways to spin your story to the press that ensures I win, while also benefiting Ms. Winter.”

“This isn’t my story,” Suit Number One indicates.

“It will be when I’m finished with the press,” I assure him, amused at how easily I’ve led him down the path I want him to travel.

“This is a small community with little to talk about but her,” he says. “She doesn’t want her foreclosure to become the front page story.”

My lips quirk. “If you don’t know how easily I can get the wrong attention for you here, and the right attention for Ms. Winter, you’ll find out.”

“We’ll leave,” Suite Number Two interjects quickly, and just when I think that he’s smart enough to see the way trouble has turned from Ms. Winter to them, he looks at her and says, “We’ll be in touch,” with a not so subtle threat in his tone, before he elbows Suit Number One. “Let’s go.”

Suit Number One doesn’t move, visibly fuming, his face red, that white ring thickening around his lips. I arch a brow at Suit Number Two, who adds, “Now, Jordan.” Jordan, formerly known as Suit Number One, clenches his teeth and turns away, while Suit Two follows.

Ms. Winter faces me, and holy fuck, when her pale green eyes meet mine, any questions I have about this woman and the many I suspect she now has of me, are muted by an unexpected, potentially problematic, palpable electric charge between us. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft, feminine, a rasp in its depths that hints at emotion not effortlessly contained. “Please enjoy anything you like tonight on the house,” she adds, the rasp gone now, her control returned. Until I take it, I think, but no sooner than I’ve had the thought, she is turning and walking away, the absence of further interaction coloring me both stunned and intrigued, two things that, for me, are ranked with about as much frequency as snow in Sonoma, which would be next to never.

Ms. Winter maneuvers into the crowd, out of my line of sight, and while I am not certain I’d label her a mouse at this point, or ever for that matter, considering what I know of her, I am most definitely on the prowl. I stride purposely forward, weaving through the crowd, seeking that next provocative moment, scanning for her left, right, in the clusters of mingling guests, until I clear the crowd.

Now standing in front of a wide, wooden stairwell, my gaze follows its path upward to a second level, but I still find no sign of Ms. Winter. A cool breeze whips through the air, and I turn to find the source is a high arched doorway, the recently opened glass doors to what I know to be the “Winter Gardens,” a focal point of the property, and a tourist draw for decades, settling back into place. Certain this represents her escape, I walk that direction, and press open the doors, stepping onto a patio that has a stone floor and concrete benches framed by rose bushes. No less than four winding paths greet me as destination choices, the hunt for this woman now a provocation of its own.

I’ve just decided to wait where I am for Ms. Winter’s return when the wind lifts, the floral scent of many varieties of flowers for which the garden is famous touching my nostrils, with one extra scent decidedly of the female variety.

Lips curving with the certainty that my prey will soon to be my prize, I follow the clue that guides my feet to the path on my right, a narrow, winding, lighted walkway, framed by neatly cut yellow flower bushes, which continues past a white wooden gazebo I have no intention of passing. Not when Ms. Winter stands inside it, her back to me, elbows resting on the wooden rail, her gaze casting across the silhouette of what would reveal itself to be a rolling mountainside in daybreak. The way I intend for her to reveal herself.

I close the distance between us, and the moment before I’m upon her, she faces me, hands on the railing behind her, her breasts thrust forward, every one of her lush curves tempting my eyes, my hands. My mouth. “Did those men know you?” she demands, clearly ready and waiting for this interaction. “Did you know them?”

“No and no.”

“And yet they knew the nickname Tiger.”

“My reputation precedes me.”

“I’ll take the bait,” she says. “What reputation?”

“They say I’ll rip my opponent’s throat out if given the chance.”

“Will you?” she asks, without so much as a blanch or blink.

“Yes,” I reply, a simple answer, for a simple question.

“Without any concern for who you hurt,” she states.

I arch a brow. “Is that a question?”

“Should it be?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not,” she says. “You didn’t get that nickname by being nice.”

“Nice guys don’t win.”

“Then I’m warned,” she says. “You aren’t a nice guy.”

“Is nice a quality you’re looking for in a man? Because as your evening counsel, Ms. Winter, I’ll advise you that nice is overrated.”

She stares at me for several beats before turning away to face the mountains again, elbows on the railing, in what I could see as a silent invitation to leave. I choose to see it as an invitation to join her. I claim the spot next to her, close, but not nearly as close as I will be soon. “You didn’t answer the question,” I point out.

“You wrongly assume I am looking for a man, which I’m not,” she says, glancing over at me. “But if I was, then no. Nice would be on my list but it would not top my list, however, nowhere on that list would be the ability, and willingness, to rip out someone’s throat.”

“I can assure you, Ms. Winter, that a man with a bite is as underrated as a nice guy is overrated. And I not only know how, and when, to use mine, but if I so choose to biteyou, and I might, it’ll be all about pleasure, not pain.”

Her cheeks flush and she turns away. “My name is Faith.” She glances over at me again. “Should I call you Nick, Tiger, or just plain arrogant?”

“Anything but Mr. Rogers,” I say, enjoying our banter far more than I would have expected when I came here tonight looking for her.

She laughs now too, and it’s a delicate, sweet sound, but it’s awkward, as if it’s not only unexpected, but unwelcome, and an instant later she’s withdrawing, pushing off the railing, arms folding protectively in front of her body, before we’re rotating to face each other. “I need to go check on the visitors.” She attempts to move away.

I gently catch her arm, her gaze rocketing to mine, and in the process her hair flutters in a sudden breeze, a strand of blonde silk catching on the whiskers of my one-day stubble. She sucks in a breath, and when she would reach up to remedy the situation, I’m already there, catching the soft silk and stroking it behind her ear.

“Why are you touching me?” she asks, but she doesn’t pull away, that charge between us minutes ago now ten times more provocative with me touching her, thinking about all the places I might touch next.

“It’s considerably better than not touching you,” I say.

“My bad luck might bleed into you.”

“Bleed,” I repeat, that word reminding me once again of why I’m here, why I really want to fuck this woman. “That’s an extreme, and rather interesting choice of words.”

“Most bad luck is extreme, though not interesting to anyone but the Tigers of the world, creating it. You’re still touching me.”

“Everyone needs a Tiger in their corner. Maybe my good luck will bleed into you.”

“Does good luck bleed?” she asks.

“Many people will do anything for good luck, even bleed.”

“Yes,” she says, lowering her lashes, but not before I’ve seen the shadows in her eyes. “I suppose they would.”

“What would you do for good luck?”

Her lashes lift, her stare meeting mine again. “What have you done for good luck?”

“I came here tonight,” I say.

She narrows her eyes on me, as if some part of her senses, the far-reaching implications of my reply that she can’t possibly understand, and yet still, the inescapable heat between us radiates and burns. “You’re still touching me,” she points out, and this time there’s a hint of reprimand.

“Holding onto that luck,” I say.

“It feels like you’re holding onto mine.”

With that observation that hits too close to the truth, I have no interest in revealing just yet, I drag my hand slowly down hers, allowing my fingers to find hers before they fall away. Her lips, lush, tempting, impossibly perfect for someone I know to be imperfect, part with the loss of my touch, and yet there is a hint of relief in her eyes that tells me she both wants me and fears me.

A most provocative moment, indeed.

“Have a drink with me,” I say.

“No,” she replies, her tone absolute, and while I don’t like this decision, I appreciate a person who’s decisive.

“Why?”

“Good luck and bad luck don’t mix.”

“They might just create good luck.”

“Or bad,” she says. “I’m not in a place where I can take the risk for more bad luck.” She inclines her chin. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.” She pauses and adds, “Tiger.”

I don’t react, but for just a moment, I consider the way she used my nickname as an indicator that she knows who I am, and why I’m here. I quickly dismiss that idea. I’d have seen it in those pale green eyes, and I did not. But as she turns and walks away, and I watch her depart, tracking her steps as she disappears down the path, I wonder at her quick departure, and the fear I’d seen in her eyes. Was the root of that fear her guilt?

That idea should be enough to ice the fire in me that this woman has stirred, but it stokes it instead. Everything male in me wants to pursue her again, and not because I’m here for a reason that existed before I ever met her, when it should be that and nothing more. It is more. I’m aroused and I’m intrigued by this woman. She got to me when no one gets to me. Not a good place to be, considering I came here to prove she killed my father, and maybe even her own mother.

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Book two: SHAMELESS will be out on July 11th!

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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 presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin’s Press.

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.

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Connect with the Author:

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Coming Soon! ReViewed (Doms of the FBI Book 6) by Michele Zurlo

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Blurb:
As a writer for The Eclectic Traveler, adventuresome daredevil Tru Martin indulges her penchant for travel and thrills of all sorts. After her discovery of a murder victim brings two sexy FBI agents into her life, Tru suggests combining their efforts instead of letting their interest in her divide them.

With a murderer on the loose and a crime ring known as The Eye to bring down, Jed Kinsley and Liam Adair are game to give it a try. Though Liam is new to the lifestyle, Jed is an experienced Dom, and the trio goes undercover to a private, fetish-friendly inn and there assume the roles of a submissive and her two Doms. As the investigation heats up, so does their chemistry. Jed and Liam soon discover they want more from this uniquely sensual woman, and they’ll do whatever it takes to make her fall in love with them.

Warnings: Menage, D/s, anal sex, double penetration, base jumping, and an unpredictable sixth sense

Buy Links
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kVZ1QD
Apple, Nook, KOBO: https://www.books2read.com/u/bOrqwo

Word Count: 104,544
Page Count: 421

ISBN: 978-1-942414-23-0
Print ISBN: 978-1-942414-24-7

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Excerpt PG/Tru
A low chuckle vibrated from his chest, and he resumed his quest for a kiss. His lips had barely grazed hers when they were interrupted.
“Seriously? This is how you keep an eye on her?”
Tru looked over to see Liam standing two feet away, hands on hips, and waves of anger emanating from his tight expression. She hadn’t expected to see him ever again. Her jaw dropped, and she jerked away from Jed’s kiss. “Liam?”
“I see you do remember me.” He came closer and directed the entirety of his ire at Jed. Rage simmered below the surface, giving her a first glimpse at just how powerful he could be. She’d known he was strong, and she’d suspected he was dominant, but she hadn’t realized that he had a dangerous edge. “I asked you to watch her, to be there for her, not to make a move on her.” His fists clenched and flexed, thick tendons clamoring to make contact with Jed’s face.
Though it looked like they were evenly matched, Jed didn’t appear concerned about the physical threat Liam posed. He released one of her hands in order to face Liam, but he kept hold of her other one. “You left. You didn’t bother to tell her you were going, and the two times you’ve called, you haven’t asked about her. We both assumed you’d moved on.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
Shocked that Liam thought he had a claim, Tru didn’t know what to make of his jealousy. She’d liked him, but he’d left, exiting her life without saying goodbye. Whatever the issue and her role in it, she didn’t want to see them come to blows. “Liam, it was one kiss, not a promise or commitment. I mean, you said you’d see me for breakfast, and when I stopped by your room, I found out that you’d gone.”
“And that’s when Jed moved in. He sensed a weakness, and he took advantage of it.” His blue eyes flashed like a storm in the night.
“Hold up.” Jed put up a cautioning hand. “That’s not how it happened. I told her that you were gone, and later we went kayaking together. We hit it off, and the rest is history. You know the saying—once you have black, you never go back.”
Liam’s lips became a slash, the lightning of his internal storm. “You’re half Asian, asshole, a quarter white, and only a quarter black. That saying is stupid for a lot of reasons, and not just because it’s on the list of crap you say.”
Tru had wondered about the ingredients of Jed’s multiracial makeup, but she hadn’t asked because she felt it wasn’t her business unless he wanted to tell her. Right now she had other concerns. Jed dropped her hand and took a step toward Liam. Sliding between them, she parked one hand on Liam’s chest and the other on Jed’s. “Gentlemen, let’s not hurl insults. Really, there’s nothing to get upset about.”
“He moved in on my territory.” Liam’s lip curled, a sexy growl that made her want to rub her body against his. Damn, but these were two very attractive men—and dominant to boot. She imagined what it would be like to be sandwiched between their naked bodies, and a tingling began at the apex of her thighs. Alex, her former Master, had often indulged her love for ménage sex.
Shaking the thought away, Tru forced herself to focus on the real problem. She narrowed her eyes in Liam’s direction. “I’m not your territory.”
“Yeah, she’s mine.” Jed’s chest puffed out, pushing against her palm.
Tru hated to burst his bubble, but it had to be done. “I’m not yours either.”
He tore his glare from Liam and turned it on her. “What?”
It took a supreme act of will not to step back or lower her gaze. “Tonight is my last night here, and then I’m moving on to my next job. You’re almost finished here as well, and who knows where your investigation will take you next? It’s a fling, Jed. Neither of you has a claim to me.”
That seemed to take the wind out of both their sails, and though each man relaxed, neither backed off. They studied one another, and Tru had no idea what either of them was thinking.
“You’re friends, right?”
Silence greeted her question. After a time, Liam managed a curt nod, though his steady gaze remained glued to Jed.
“And you work together? You’re a team?”
This time she didn’t have to wait as long for a reply. Without seeming to move, Jed answered. “Yes.”
“Then maybe you should look at this as an opportunity to work together in a different way.” The need to keep them apart had passed. She slid her palms down each man’s chest as she let her hands drop away. “I’m game if you are.”

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R Excerpt/Liam:
Her lacy top was the last to go. Crossing her arms over her chest, she held it up for the space of two heartbeats, and then she let it drop. Once it was gone, she stopped performing and stood before them in a classic submissive stance.
Two steps away, she waited. Liam rose, and her breath hitched. He closed the distance, and though she didn’t move, the tension in the air thickened. Wordlessly he threaded his fingers through her hair at her nape and pulled lightly. She exhaled, the slightest hint of a moan hiding behind the sound, and followed his unspoken order to tilt her head back. Her gaze lifted as well, and it fastened on his lips. Too greedy to make her wait, he feasted on her lips, massaging his against hers until he couldn’t deny his need for more. Then he plunged his tongue into her mouth. She melted against him, and he felt the tentative weight of her hands traveling up his chest to rest on his shoulders. With every inch, she asked permission and begged for the right. Power suffused his limbs. He tightened his grip on her hair and bit her lip.
She mewed, a sound halfway between pleasure and pain, and he broke away. Jed took his place, and he showered her face with kisses. Liam stood back and concentrated on breathing. If he lost control and let the power go to his head, then he would no longer be thinking of her, and it was his responsibility to make sure she enjoyed the experience.
Jed’s kisses ventured lower, concentrating on her neck and shoulders. He nipped the tender flesh there, leaving behind a string of tiny pink marks. Tru opened her eyes and looked over Jed to Liam. She gazed at him, passion lightening her eyes to golden brown and inviting him closer.
He moved to stand behind her, and he peppered her exposed shoulder with tender kisses. She leaned against his chest, and Jed trailed lower, sucking kisses across her abdomen and hips. Liam could guess Jed’s intention, so he wrapped an arm around her waist and angled her head back to kiss him again. He’d keep himself under control this time. As he kissed her, he cupped one breast and teased the nipple to a stiff point.

 

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THE BRITISH BAD BOYS ARE COMING!!!!!

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The British Bad Boys Are Coming—Pre-Order Now! #99c #99p #preorder #badboys #sexy #romance #brit #british #giveaway

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Blurb:

Indulge yourself with this boxed set of stories written by bestselling and award-winning British romance authors. No one knows British bad boys better than they do!

Come and spend time with a dirty-talking London tattoo artist, a Scottish bad boy, a British gangster who won’t take no for an answer, and MORE! These men are all hotter than hell and have accents to die for. Whatever your desire, you’ll find it within these pages.

Packed full of brand new standalone, steamy stories with no cliff-hangers. With happily-ever-afters guaranteed, you won’t want to miss out on this limited collection, available for a short time only!

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Featuring stories from Marissa Farrar, Lucy Felthouse, Tabitha Rayne, Lexie Bay, Lily Harlem, Victoria Blisse and K D Grace.

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The Redemption Series by Sarah Castille

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FIGHTING ATTRACTION
Coming April 4, 2017!

Five sexy MMA fighters who will fight hard to win their girl. Fans of Fifty Shades of Grey, Mine, and Worth the Fight will love this standalone addition to the Redemption series by New York Times Bestselling author, Sarah Castille.

Pre-order FIGHTING ATTRACTION and add it to your TBR pile on Goodreads! Then keep reading to get a sneak peek at FIGHTING ATTRACTION and to enter the giveaway for the first three books in the Redemption series!

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BOOK DESCRIPTION:

My sweet, sexy Penny has a dark side. Just like me.
I will have her. And then I will lose her, and suffer a lifetime of regret.

Rampage. Everyone loves him. He is Redemption’s top heavyweight fighter and the biggest gossip in the gym. But he isn’t the teddy bear everyone thinks he is. He’s hiding a dark secret-and he hates himself for it.

Twice a week, Rampage transforms into Master Jack, a notorious dom only the most hard-core submissives will play with. How can he-a Southern gentleman, bred to respect and protect women-want to dominate them?

But Penny Worthington wants him. Beneath her pearls, kitten heels, and prim British exterior beats a tortured heart…Master Jack is the only one who can set her free.

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PRE-ORDER LINKS:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2jvBTuD
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2kOcmOB
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iTunes: http://apple.co/2iKwXkv
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Redemption Series:
Against the Ropes (On sale for $1.99!)
In Your Corner
Full Contact
Fighting Attraction
Strong Hold (Coming soon!)

Spread the news about FIGHTING ATTRACTION with a GIVEAWAY!
Grand Prize: One (1) lucky winner will receive paperback copies of the first three books in the Redemption series (AGAINST THE ROPES, IN YOUR CORNER, AND FULL CONTACT).

Enter at: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/YjA1MGVmMjkwYTE2NWQzYWI3ODNiODExNGJiNGU0OjMyNA==/?

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Exclusive sneak peek at FIGHTING ATTRACTION!
Copyright © 2017 Sarah Castille

Jack “Rampage” Caldwell is the first MMA fighter I created for the Redemption series, and even when I first brought this Southern gentleman to life, I knew he had a secret. But Penny has a dark secret, too. After Jack discovers what she hides from the world, he makes her promise to come to him if she needs him. But trust doesn’t come easily for Penny. She breaks her promise, never expecting that Jack will find out. But, of course, he does…and crossing a sadist is never a good idea!

“I’ll call you back. Jack is here.”

Cora sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ll see you at class tonight. I can hardly wait to hear all about it.”

I end the call and swallow past the lump in my throat. It’s only been three days, and yet it feels like I haven’t seen Jack in forever. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that clings to his taut, muscle-ridged abdomen, and worn jeans that ride low on his narrow hips.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my gaze above his belt.

He pins me with a direct stare, his eyes fierce and hard. I feel like he’s trying to see into my soul, but my heart is pounding so hard I’m not sure enough oxygen is getting to my brain to make any sense of what’s going on.

“Jack?”

His gaze rakes over my body, lingering on my thighs as if he can see beneath my skirt. He tenses, and his eyes narrow. If I didn’t know X-ray vision was impossible, I would swear he knows I broke my promise.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.” My pulse kicks up a notch. “Everyone’s out for the rest of the afternoon.”

He takes a step toward me, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

“Lock the door.”

A thrill of fear shoots through me, and sweat beads on my forehead. What if he knows? Or suspects? What will he do?

“Now.” His deep, commanding Dom voice ripples through me, fanning the flames of my desire. Do I trust Jack enough to lock myself in the office with him, especially when I know what is coming? Do I trust myself?

I brush past him and lock the front door.

“Your office,” he snaps after I return.

I jump at his sharp tone and scramble out of his way as he brushes past me and through my office door, a lithe and powerful animal herding its prey.

“What’s going on?”

“Stand in front of the desk.” He gestures to the big oak desk Amanda and I refinished when we first moved into the building.

Puzzled, I do as he asks, my breath catching in my throat when he closes and locks the door behind him.

“Jack?”

He gives me his back as he draws the curtains at the side of my office. “Don’t move.”

A sting of disappointment hits me in the chest. Has he come to reject me all over again? Does he want to make sure I understand there is nothing between us? It shouldn’t bother me because I got the message the other night. I’m nothing. Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary. Not worth his time, especially since he’s on the cusp of fame. I’m just his pal. Plain old quirky Pen. But he doesn’t have to be so cold.

Worthless, no-good piece of shit.

No. No. No. My fingers tighten on the lip of the desk. I haven’t even started to heal from last night. I don’t need the past intruding on the present.

Jack leans against the door across from me, thick arms folded over his massive chest.
“Lift your skirt.”

Shock steals my breath away, and all I can do is stare.

“What?”

“You heard me. Lift your skirt. Now.”

Bang. Bang. Bang. My heart thuds frantically against my ribs. Adrenaline pounds through my veins, and I feel a rush of heat between my legs. He knows. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice…

“Why?” I whisper, stalling. And why is this turning me on?

“You know why,” he snaps. “You didn’t keep your promise.”

I smooth my hands over my cream skirt, silky underneath with a cotton macramé overlay, pressing it tight against my thighs. “It doesn’t matter if I kept it or not. We’re not in the club. There’s nothing between us. You made that clear the other night.”

“I fucked up the other night.” He shifts his stance. “I’m not good for you, Pen. You need to be with someone normal. A nice guy who’s going to treat you right and doesn’t want to hurt you.”

My hand fists on my thigh. “I don’t like nice guys. They don’t understand me. They’re too gentle. My life is about pain. Emotional and physical pain. It’s what I know, what I understand, what I need.”

“So you hurt yourself?”

“I didn’t—”

He cuts me off with a scowl. “Don’t lie to me.” He pauses, and his voice takes on a deeper, cutting edge. “Show me.”

My mouth goes dry at his abrupt command, and I fiddle with the edge of my skirt, at once indignant that he would try to boss me around and aroused that he did.

“What if I did?” I say defiantly. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

His corded throat tightens when he swallows, and he fixes me with a level stare. “I’ll give you what you need.”

All the air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I feel a disconcerting wetness between my thighs. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m at work.”

“Try me.”

Electricity sparks in the air between us, and a curious mix of fear and arousal courses through my veins. Stiffening my spine, I curl my fingers under the edge of my skirt and draw it slowly, painfully slowly up my thighs. Jack stills. His eyes flick down and then back up again. He licks his lips, and his eyes darken.

I have awakened the beast.

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PRAISE for Sarah Castille’s Redemption series:

“Powerful. Gritty. And sexy beyond belief. Sarah is a true master!”- Opal Carew, New York Times bestselling author of HIS TO CLAIM

“Hilarious, hot and occasionally heartbreaking. I loved it! “- Maryse’s Book Blog on AGAINST THE ROPES

“Castille’s follow-up to the excellent Against the Ropes doesn’t pull its punches.” – Publishers Weekly, starred review for IN YOUR CORNER

“Emotionally charged, amazingly sexy, and flat out fantastic.”- Fresh Fiction on FULL CONTACT

 

Other Books in the Redempton Series

AGAINST THE ROPES (Redemption #1)
Download the series starter for $1.99!
Order Paperback: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Book Depository
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IN YOUR CORNER (Redemption #2)
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Order Ebook: Kindle | Nook | iTunes | Kobo | Indigo | Google Play

FULL CONTACT (Redemption #3)
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ABOUT Sarah Castille:

Sarah Castille is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Redemption Series, Ruin & Revenge Series, Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club series, Legal Heat series and the Club Excelsior series. A recovering lawyer with a fondness for dirty-talking alpha males, she now is a full-time writer, who lives on Vancouver Island.

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Chapter Reveal for Mastering Her Senses. (Blasphemy Book #2) by Laura Kaye

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Decadent… Sensual… Forbidden…

12 Masters. 12 Desires. 12 Fantasies Come to Life.
Meet the Masters of Blasphemy…

 

 

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About MASTERING HER SENSES (Blasphemy #2, 2/21/17):

12 Masters. Infinite fantasies. Welcome to Blasphemy…

He wants to dominate her senses—and her heart…

Quinton Ross has always been a thrill-seeker—so it’s no surprise that he’s drawn to extremes in the bedroom and at his BDSM club, Blasphemy, where he creates sense-depriving scenarios that blow submissives’ minds. Now if he could just find one who needs the rush as much as him…

When an accident leaves Cassia Locke with a paralyzing fear of the dark, she’ll try anything to get help. Ready to fight, she knows just who to ask for help—the hard-bodied, funny-as-hell Dom she’d always crushed on—and once stood up.

Quinton is shocked and a little leery to see Cassia, but he can’t pass up the chance to dominate the alluring little sub this time. Introducing her to sensory deprivation becomes his new favorite obsession, and watching her fight fear is its own thrill. But when doubt threatens to send her running again, Quinton must find a way to master her senses—and her heart.

Pre-order now!

Amazon: Coming 2/21/2017 | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

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Dear Readers,

I’m having so much fun writing in the sexy, sensual world of Blasphemy that I couldn’t wait until release day to share a chapter from my next story in this series, Mastering Her Senses. Quinton is funny and sexy and smart as hell, but he also has that intense, dominant side that I just can’t get enough of! The Blasphemy series are stand-alone erotic romances all set in an exclusive play club located in the ruins of an abandoned church in downtown Baltimore. That means you can read them in any order and enjoy them all! Now, read on to meet the next Master of Blasphemy!

And don’t forget to preorder – now available everywhere!

Thanks for reading!
Laura Kaye

 

MASTERING HER SENSES (A BLASPHEMY BOOK)

BY LAURA KAYE

CHAPTER ONE

Quinton Ross was in his happy place.

Standing behind the bar at Blasphemy, the club he co-owned with eleven of the coolest assholes he’d ever known, he surveyed the roomful of wonderfully kinky people wearing a whole lotta nothing. Totally his jam.

And the fact that he’d get to play with one of them later? Seriously, a man’s life didn’t get any better.

Well, having a submissive of his own…that could be better. Theoretically.

Except the one and only time he’d attempted that, the woman had screwed him over so royally he’d almost needed lube. Heh.

But, whatever. Quinton tried really frickin’ hard to let things roll off his shoulders. People had much worse shit in their lives than him. Most of the time, he considered himself lucky and just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Besides, he never lacked for company or partners around the club, and no submissive ever left him anything but fully satisfied. He made damn sure of it.

“Hi, Master Quinton,” came a feminine voice from further down the counter.

He turned to find a blond-haired woman with a sleek, silver prosthetic arm leaning against the marble of the ornate bar. Kenna Sloane. And right behind her stood her big mountain of a Dom and one of Quinton’s best friends, Griffin Hudson. “Aren’t you looking lovely tonight, Kenna,” Quinton said with a smile as he made his way to where Griffin was sliding into a seat and pulling Kenna’s slim hips between his legs. “And am I wrong or is this some snazzy new hardware?” He nodded at her arm. She’d lost everything below her right elbow while serving with the Marines in Afghanistan. If she and Griffin hadn’t been fuckin’ fated, Kenna might’ve been Quinton’s kind of woman.

Adventurous. Brave. Willing to push life to the extremes.

But they were fated, something the diamond on her finger and the platinum collar with its unique interwoven knot sitting at the hollow of her throat both indicated. Loud and clear.

Kenna smiled, so much more comfortable here at the club—and seemingly in her own skin—than she’d been when she and Griffin had first reconnected a few months back. “I have a couple different sockets. And a girl has to coordinate,” she said, holding it up to the almost sheer sparkling silver halter top she wore.

Chuckling, Quinton nodded and clasped hands with Kenna’s Dom. “Master Griffin, how the hell are ya?” Their wrists bore matching leather cuffs with embroidered Gothic M’s. Every Blasphemy Master—the experienced Dominants who owned the club and took turns running and monitoring it—wore one like it.

“Never better, my friend. Never better.” The skin crinkled around Griffin’s dark eyes as he spoke, his smile coming a million times easier than it ever had before. Quinton guessed that was what happened when you were not only able to correct one of the biggest mistakes of your life, but find a submissive who was also your soul mate in the process.

Lucky fucker.

“I know that’s true,” Quinton said, winking at Kenna. She ducked her chin but was smiling bright enough to light up the whole room. And that was saying something given the size of Blasphemy. Located in the renovated remains of an old abandoned church, the massive rectangular nave formed the central part of the club. Filled with lots of seating and play areas, it had a soaring ceiling, massive stained-glass windows all around, and a performance and demonstration stage where the altar had once been. Themed rooms and other private spaces stretched off from the main floor. In addition to the very private and exclusive Blasphemy, the public front of their business—Club Diablo, a three-story dance club in a renovated warehouse—stood across a courtyard.

And Quinton provided hands-on management over it all.

He’d been with the clubs from the beginning, and had used his savings and the money he’d made selling a small but successful bar of his own to purchase his ownership stake in Blasphemy, a deal that got even sweeter when his partners had offered him the job of managing the bars and all the food service at both clubs. Food, drink, and sex all tantalized the senses and therefore were equally high up on the list of things he loved, and always had been. Given his prior experience, he pretty much had full control of the operation. Just like he liked.

Griffin placed an order for him and Kenna, then asked, “You have a scene set up tonight?”

Quinton got busy making their drinks and shook his head. “No,” he said with a grin. “But I’m looking forward to the thrill of the hunt.”

Griffin chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

The quip on Quinton’s tongue died when a flashing red light under the bar’s edge caught his eye. An emergency in one of the rooms. He glanced at the tag over the light to determine which one, then slammed the drinks down in front of his friends harder than he’d intended. “Shit, G, sorry. Emergency in the dark room. Get someone to cover?” he said, moving without waiting for an answer. He knew Griffin would have his back.

Quinton moved as fast as he could without calling undue attention. Their members knew that the Masters and a team of other Doms who worked as monitors responded to all sorts of problems around the club, some as mundane as an equipment malfunction and others more delicate situations involving disputes between players in a scene. Hell, a few months ago, Quinton had responded when Kenna broke down during a bondage scene, and Griffin had called for help extricating her from his intricate ropework. Sex at the extremes was bound to run into a few issues, which was why consent and safety were hallmarks of BDSM and Blasphemy itself. But none of that meant any of them wished to distract players from their pleasures with worry or curiosity, either.

Off the main floor, Quinton picked up his pace as he moved down the long hallway off of which most of the themed play rooms were located. The dark room was at the far end. Master Wolf came up beside him. “Hey, man,” he said.

Quinton gave him a nod. “Didn’t know you were on tonight, Wolf. Good to see you.”

A little taller than Quinton, the guy had dark blond hair, the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, and a chiseled Scandinavian face that turned heads all over the club. “Running the security control room. Relieving Isaac because the baby’s sick,” he said, referring to Isaac Marten, their head of security operations, who had a two-month-old son.

“Damn. Sorry to hear that,” Quinton said as they closed in on their destination. The dark room was actually a series of three interconnected rooms. In the center was a pitch-black bedroom, accessed only through two changing/waiting rooms on either side of it—one of which let out into this hallway, and the other of which let out into a different hallway so that the players couldn’t run into each other before or after the anonymous scene. The dark room was very popular, and given Quinton’s interest in sensory deprivation, it was one he’d used many times.

He heard someone in distress before they even got inside.

Quinton and Wolf burst through the door to find one of the monitors trying to calm a woman curled on the floor, gasping like she couldn’t breathe. She wore a slinky bronze dress that bared most of her legs.

“What happened?” Quinton asked, grabbing a blanket from a shelf and going to his knees beside her. He tucked the soft fleece around her.

“I don’t know,” the monitor said. I sounded the alarm but she told me not to call an ambulance when I asked.

“She just freaked out. I swear. Nothing hardly happened between us,” a shirtless man said from the doorway to the dark bedroom.

Quinton hadn’t even noticed him there, but Wolf was already questioning him. He nodded to the monitor, a Dom in his forties, and then peered up at Master Wolf. “You all clear out. Debrief him and get his information.”

“You got it, Q,” Wolf said, motioning the other men out into the hall. “Call if you need help.”

As they left, Quinton brushed the woman’s shoulder-length hair back off her splotchy face. “We need to get your breathing under control or I have to call an ambulance.”

“No…no…I…it’s…” Clenching her eyes, she shook her head and growled as if in frustration.

Damnit, he needed to do something for her. The part of him that needed to care and soothe decided, and he scooped her off the floor and carried her to the couch. Everywhere they touched, her pulse hammered against her skin. If this was a panic attack, it was one of the worst he’d ever seen.

He sat with her in his lap, the blanket still wrapped around her, and cradled her so that they were facing each other. “Breathe with me, little one. Do you hear me? Look at me and breathe with me.” Striking hazel eyes with flecks of gold cut to his. Almost familiar…

Focusing, he exaggerated one breath, than another, and another, until she struggled to match her rhythm to his.

Griffin appeared in the doorway, questions clear on his face. Quinton spared him the smallest of glances and gave a single shake of his head. Griffin nodded and closed the door. Quinton had this. The others would be there in a heartbeat if he was wrong, but he didn’t think he was.

Because the woman’s body was calming. Her breathing was evening out. Her pulse was slowing. Her muscles were losing their tension.

“That’s it. That’s good. Just watch me and breathe with me. Don’t stop. We’ll kick this thing, don’t you worry.” He stroked his hand over her hair, wanting to soothe her. The color was so rich it almost matched the bronze of her dress. Her hair was beautiful and soft. As was the rest of her, all golden skin and pretty curves. Her weight felt good in his arms. She turned her face into his hand, just the littlest bit, and he stroked her hair again. A jagged scar ran along her forehead and into her hairline over one eye.

The scar triggered the oddest thought: That wasn’t there before.

His gaze cut back to those eyes. Hazel with the gold. And he suddenly knew he’d seen them before. Years ago. Right here at Blasphemy. A name clicked into place.

“Cassia?” he asked. Cassia. As in Cassia Locke, a submissive he’d flirted with quite a few times and was once supposed to play with…but she’d stood him up the night of their scene.

“Y-yes, Sir,” she whispered. “H-hi, Mas-ter Q-quinton.”

So she recognized him, too. Did she remember that night? He shook off the thought. Their history wasn’t something to deal with just then.

“Hi yourself, kid.” He gently scratched his fingertips against her scalp and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths that she mimicked. Studying her, Quinton noticed another scar on her right shoulder. Her hair was also much longer than the almost boyish style she used to wear. Finally, Cassia went limp in his lap, and her ease unleashed a satisfaction in his blood. “Feeling better?”

She gave a long sigh, the sound exhausted and defeated. “As better as I can feel after utterly humiliating myself. Sir.”

He shook his head. “No such thing happened. Not as far as I’m concerned.”

Her gaze skittered away.

“Did I tell you to stop looking at me?”

Cassia’s eyes snapped back to meet his. “No, Sir.”

Her obedience unleashed even more of that satisfaction. The attraction of BDSM, to him, was as much about the psychology of it as the physicality of the acts. Her reaction—that obedience—represented an ingrained instinct, a need to serve, a desire to surrender. And that fucking heated his blood. He arched a brow and nodded. “Good girl.”

She shifted in his lap, but kept her eyes on his. The movement reminded his body that he’d been planning to find a partner, but he locked that shit down tight. First, because she’d been through something tonight he didn’t entirely understand. And second, because given that she’d stood him up and never bothered to follow up to explain, he wasn’t sure what to make of her anyway. And trust was kind of a thing, for him. Well, for most Doms, really. Which meant he needed to know.

“Now, tell me what happened,” he said, nailing her with a stare. “And tell me the truth.”

 

 

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Books in Series:

Hard to Serve #.5

Bound to Submit #1

Mastering Her Senses #2 – 2/21/17

Eyes on You #3 – 7/11/17

 

 

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Join the MASTERING HER SENSES Facebook Party on February 21st!
JOIN THE PARTY HERE!

 

 

Laura Kaye - headshotAbout Laura Kaye:

Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty books in contemporary and erotic romance and romantic suspense, including the Blasphemy, Hard Ink, and Raven Riders series. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. Laura also writes historical fiction as the NYT bestselling author, Laura Kamoie. She lives in Maryland with her husband and two daughters, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

 

 

 

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