Release Blitz: Me and Mr. Jones by Christie Ridgway

Me and Mr. Jones by Christie Ridgway is AVAILABLE NOW!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KugZX6
iBooks: https://apple.co/2MqjSJq
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ADD TO YOUR TBR → http://bit.ly/2LFS6ca

Welcome to the famed resort, The Hathaway at Dragonfly Beach, where newlyweds come to honeymoon, where anniversary couples celebrate milestones, and where broken hearts find a place to heal.

Jilted bride Audra Montgomery wants to reset her life at the famed resort, The Hathaway at Dragonfly Beach. A good girl for far too long, Audra has penned a list of must-do experiences she’s sure will change her. When the hotel’s maintenance guy, a “Mr. Jones,” knocks on her door, she wonders if the sexy handyman might just come in handy when enacting some of the spicier items on her agenda.

Kane Hathaway, general manager of the resort, didn’t set out to deceive his guest when he performed a minor repair. But it’s freeing to imagine life without the responsibilities of the family business. Then there’s the whole “Heartbreak Hotel” designation—cynical Kane doesn’t believe for a minute that a stay on site can heal the wounds left by bad romance. But every moment in Audra’s company sparkles with magic—can this be love?

Me and Mr. Jones is book two in the Heartbreak Hotel series and is a STANDALONE.

About the Author:

Christie Ridgway is a California native and author of over forty-five contemporary romances. A six-time RITA finalist and USA Today bestselling author, she writes sexy, emotional reads starring determined heroines and the men who can’t help but love them. She has a Career Achievement award from RT Book Reviews and twice has received their Reviewer’s Choice award for best contemporary romance of the year. Married to her college sweetheart, Christie lives in Southern California in a house filled with boys and pets. She writes as an escape from sports equipment, football on TV, and dog hair.

Author Links:
Website: http://christieridgway.net/
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2sAZO0V
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ChristieRidgway/
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Twitter: https://twitter.com/ChristieRidgway

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Chapter Reveal: Butterface by Avery Flynn

Butterface, a fun and sexy romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Avery Flynn, is coming July 30th and we’ve got a sneak peek!

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Read the first chapter of Butterface today: http://wp.me/P2BIBX-11q

Synopsis

Looks aren’t everything.

It’s true. I’m not what most people would call “pretty” and, well, high school was rough. Fast forward ten years and life is good…

Until a bunch of jerks think it’s hilarious to put the “butterface” (AKA me) on a wedding Kiss Cam with the hottest guy ever—and that old humiliation hits hard.

I recognize him immediately. The hottest cop in Waterbury and totally out of my league.

But then he kisses me.

And we totally forget the room, the crowd, everything.

Then he tells everyone we’ve been dating for months.

Soon everything starts to feel too real, from adorable fights over “necessary” tools to fix my broken porch to surviving a free-for-all dinner with his six siblings to picking up where our last kiss left off.

But there’s something he’s not telling me about why he’s really hanging around, and I’m pretty sure it has to do with my mob-connected brothers.

Because this is not a makeover story, and Cinderella is only a fairy tale…

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Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2ykgQEa

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/Butterface

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Nook: https://bit.ly/2tmqf8m

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2K3Cn8U

Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2sSXjEL

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About Avery

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

She fell in love with romance while reading Johanna Lindsey’s Mallory books. It wasn’t long before Avery had read through all the romance offerings at her local library. Needing a romance fix, she turned to Harlequin’s four books a month home delivery service to ease the withdrawal symptoms. That worked for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the local book stores’ staffs knew her by name.

Avery 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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Connect with Avery

Website: http://averyflynn.com

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/avery-flynn

Mailing List: http://averyflynn.com/newsletter/

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Join the Flynnbots: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Flynnbots/

http://averyflynn.com

 

Blog Tour: Scoring the Player’s Baby (WAGS #3) by Naima Simone

THE NEXT STANDALONE NOVEL IN THE WAGS SERIES BY NAIMA SIMONE.

After a divorce from her cheating football player ex, PR whiz Kim Matlock would rather drive a pine tree through her walled-off heart than work at the Seattle Wedding Expo. And the last thing she expects is to be grabbed and kissed breathless by a hot giant of a man looking to fend off a stalker. She doesn’t want emotional entanglements, but she can’t say no to one scorching night with the sexy stranger.

To her shock, she finds out afterward that a) he’s a pro football player, aka her kryptonite, and b) she’s pregnant.

But nothing could have prepared her for his response…

 

 

About the Book

Scoring the Player’s Baby
by Naima Simone

Series
The WAGS Series (All Titles Are Standalones)

Genre
Adult
Contemporary Romance

Publisher
Entangled Brazen

Publication Date
July 9, 2018

Purchase Your Copy Today!
Amazon  |  Entangled Publishing  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  Google Play  |  iBooks

 

Excerpt:  

Scoring the Player’s Baby

by Naima Simone

Copyright © 2018 by Naima Simone. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

 

Chapter One

Jesus Harry Christ. Kill me now.

Ronin Palamo winced as his sister slapped him in the stomach. Two things occurred to him at once: he’d uttered his slightly blasphemous prayer out loud, and Hana packed a punch. Since he’d been the one to teach her how to throw a smack, he couldn’t prevent the thump of pride from pounding in his chest.

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen,” Hana grumbled. “You keep mumbling under your breath, and you won’t have to ask God to take you out. I’ll do the job myself.”

In spite of the threat she delivered with convincing menace, he grinned, wisely deciding to keep the “bridezilla” comment to himself. It still shocked him a little when he thought of their family’s tomboy with the Napoleon complex getting married. Hence this dreaded, mind-numbing, soul-snatching afternoon at the Seattle Wedding Expo.

He shuddered. Just the word “wedding” sent fingernails scraping down his back. And not in the good, hot-and-sweaty-mid-sex way either. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken out in hives. Yet.

Still, Ronin was the big brother—the only brother—of his loud, crazy, but loving brood of four sisters. And when Hana had come to him, asking if he’d attend this idea of hell with her, well, he couldn’t refuse. He loved her and would do anything for her. Including subject himself to boutonniere-induced seizures.

“You would threaten the man who gave up his Saturday—his last free Saturday before preseason starts, I might add? Talk about ungrateful.” Ronin tsked. “Who raised you? Wolves?”

“No, your mother.”

“Close enough.”

They glanced at each other and started snickering. Truth be told, their mother would probably find the comparison flattering. A fierce, dominant, protective female who provided for her pack and would rip anyone to shreds who dared cross them? Hell, the wolf was probably her probably her patronus. Thank you very much, Harry Potter.

“Seriously, Han, how much longer am I required to suffer? We’ve been here”—he peered down at his watch—“two hours already. How many floral arrangements and invitations can you look at in one afternoon?”

Yep, he was whining. He didn’t care if he was being a big man-baby. The occasion called for it. And if any of his teammates found out about this, he would be the brunt of every joke in the locker room. Didn’t matter that he was the star wide receiver for the Washington Warriors football franchise and had been for seven of the eight years he’d been on the NFL team. Didn’t matter that he’d been All Pro six years running. Nope, if any images of him studying wedding favors leaked, his ass would be in a sling from now until the end of the season.

Thank God, no one had seemed to recognize him, probably due in part to a “gently used,” black fedora he’d picked up from one of the thrift stores near his house, and his long hair tucked into a bun that “only samurais and girls should wear,” as his oldest sister, Alea, put it.

He scrubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. He wouldn’t dare steal any of his sister’s joy and excitement, but all these flowers with their cloying smells were like delicate-scented nooses strangling the hell out of him. Each slow pull drew him back to another time—exactly two years ago in just three more days—when baskets, arches, and sprays of flowers had filled a church, their fragrances suffocating him along with the dark hole of grief…

With something that felt uncomfortably close to desperation, he scanned the hall, searching until he located her.

The noose loosened a fraction, enough for him to drag in a cleansing, free breath of air. Yeah, this he was used to. Familiar with. How many times in the last two years had he eased the dagger-sharp pain of loss, the yawning, empty loneliness, with lust, with sex? Too damn many to count.

He’d noticed her almost the moment he’d arrived. Standing in front of a booth bearing a huge banner with an image of a glamorous hotel that looked like something out of a 50s black-and-white movie, and aptly named the Grand, she was a stunner. Rivaled the sophistication and beauty of the seven-foot image behind her. Even from across the convention hall, he noted her beautiful, almost…aristocratic features. Yeah, she had that “don’t come for me unless I call for you” vibe his youngest sister described as “resting bitch face.”

Except he didn’t see it as a negative.

No, she exuded graceful poise and confidence.

From the slanting, sharp cheekbones, to the elegant slope of her nose, to the full, damn near lush mouth that had his dick giving its stamp of approval, to the sleek fall of dark brown hair that framed her face and fell inches below her shoulders, she could’ve been a supermodel, or a warrior queen sitting on a throne, demanding her subjects’ attention and adoration.

And he should really lay the fuck off Outlander. All this poise–elegant-cheekbones–adoration shit was threatening his Man Card.

It would help if he could stop staring at her like a creepy stalker. But even with the features of a queen—there he went again—her body was that of a goddamn porn star. Slender, but damn, curves for days. The form-fitting black suit jacket and skinny skirt didn’t conceal the breasts that appeared to be a perfect handful—perfect for hands hissize—or the generous flare of hips that could no doubt take a little rough handling. Hell, she looked built for sex. And not the gentle, under the covers, all the lights out sex. No. Fucking. She seemed like she could not only take a fucking but give one out so good it’d make a man sell his soul for another raw, sticky-skinned, dirty round.

Need, rough and spiked, knotted his gut as he returned his regard to her lovely face. From this distance, he couldn’t detect the color of her eyes, but he’d bet his left nut her gaze was straightforward, unwavering, and didn’t take any shit. Damn, he wished he could see the color, so he could picture what they would look like glazed from a hard-won orgasm.

“Here,” Hana said, tearing him from his slightly obsessed scrutiny of a sexy-as-hell stranger. He glanced down to see her shove a small piece of cake in a sparkly paper cup into his chest. “Have some cake. You’re not yourself when you’re hungry.”

He snorted, but for the next half hour, he gorged himself on bite-sized samples of hideously expensive cake, going from table to table bearing banners for various bakers. Red velvet, devil’s food, strawberry delight… The sweets violated his strict diet, and he’d have to put extra hours in the weight room. But totally worth it.

“When I did this, I always imagined Mom with me, not you,” Hana murmured. She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Ronin pulled his sister close and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her dark curls even as he forced himself to swallow past the sadness, anger, and worry that had lodged in his chest. Clearing his throat, he squeezed her shoulders. “I wish she was, too.”

Because their mother should’ve been with her daughter, oohing and aahing over all this wedding shit that bored the hell out of him. And if she hadn’t just been diagnosed with stage two breast cancer, she would’ve been. So, he’d volunteered to go with his sister, all the while trying to remain strong for his mom, the woman who’d been his rock his entire life. Struggling to hide that he was shaken, hurting, and fucking terrified of losing her.

Jesus, he didn’t think he could survive another loss of someone he loved.

“Mom’s going to be fine. And if she knew you were at this expo upset, she would rip me a new one. And let’s be honest. My ass is way too nice for that.” Hana’s fist connected with his stomach, and he released an exaggerated grunt then laughed. “It’s almost time to check out these dresses that cost more than my car,” he announced. “Let’s go get a seat.”

This was Hana’s day. No sadness. He took her empty paper plate and tossed it along with his before letting her lead the way to the huge stage and runway set up in the middle of the convention center. Several rows of chairs flanked either side, and he groaned as Hana headed toward the few empty seats on the front row.

“I feel like such a pussy,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Hold my seat. I have to hit the can.”

Before his sister could object or stop him, he shot to his feet and slid past the row full of women, hurrying in the direction of the bathrooms…and freedom.

As soon as he cleared the area with most of the booths, he inhaled the first wedding-free breath he’d taken in hours. The heavy metal doors with their crossbars beckoned, and he detoured toward them. If he was going to make it the rest of the afternoon, he needed a break, even if it was a short-lived one. As long as it was absent of flowers, arches, dresses, and embellished card stock.

Pushing on one of the doors and exiting as if committing a jailbreak, he strode across the convention center’s lobby. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand all the fuss and money spent on one day, when the ceremony would probably last longer than the actual marriage. Why in the hell would someone willingly put themselves through the torture of—

“Ronin,” an unfortunately familiar voice called his name.

No fucking way. He groaned, not needing to turn around to lay eyes on the woman behind him to identify her. Marissa. The Clinger. Mentally, he slapped his palm to his forehead. How had she found him? Did she have a GPS tracker on his truck? As soon as he and Hana left this place, he was taking his vehicle in to be checked.

Damn, this sucked. His best friends Zephirin and Dom might call him a man-whore—and in all fairness, he might have earned that title in the last couple of years—but being raised by a single mom with four sisters prevented him from being disrespectful and offensive to any woman. Which was why he never lied to one, was always upfront about only wanting a night or two of mutually satisfying sex and nothing more. Most women accepted it. Sad but true—a lot of women he encountered just wanted the bragging rights of fucking a professional football player.

But Marissa was a whole ’nother story.

Desperate, he surveyed the partially empty lobby. He could head back into the convention hall, but he didn’t put it past the persistent one-night stand from hell to follow him inside and cause a scene. He didn’t want to put Hana into that position.

Damn, he should’ve just kept his ass in the seat for the fashion—

The door leading to the wedding expo opened, and she exited. The woman from the hotel booth. The one who’d captured his attention and fascination.

His feet moved in her direction even before his brain had fully formed an idea.

“Landon, just let Rankin know that even though I’m in Seattle, the team that came up with the concept for his marketing campaign is still in place in Boston. Tell him everything is running smoothly and set to launch next week as planned. And if any issues pop up, I’m just a phone call away.” Kim Matlock shoved out of one of the wide doors and into the partially empty—and much quieter—lobby of the convention center where the Seattle Wedding Expo was being held. Holding back a relieved sigh, she continued her conversation with one of her Public Relations department heads from Bishop Enterprises’ Boston offices. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she listened as Landon continued on about the complaints from a high-maintenance president of an insurance company they’d recently acquired. “He should be satisfied that we’ll provide the necessary rebranding and publicity, as promised when Bishop Enterprises bought them. Listen, shoot me his email, and I’ll reply to him, okay?”

Seconds later, Kim ended the call and exhaled a deep breath.

This she could handle—projects, clients, campaigns. Give her a problem, and she thrived on solving it. As Vice President of Public Relations with Bishop Enterprises, her half brother’s financial and holding company, she’d spent the last eight years proving her presence and position had been earned rather than gifted through nepotism. And to some degree, she’d succeeded. But being a woman—and a woman with brown skin when her CEO brother’s was white—in a male-dominated field brought its own set of challenges. But damn if she didn’t meet those head on, too. She refused to be defeated.

In business, at least.

This time, she released the sigh that she’d previously held back and scrolled through the list of texts she hadn’t been able to answer for the past few hours. Today, all her attention had been devoted to ensuring the expo was a success for Bishop Enterprises as a sponsor, and the Grand as the hotel chain they were promoting. This expo was just step one in revamping the marketing and branding for the beautiful, old-world hotels. Advertising their huge ballrooms as the perfect wedding and reception venues to excited brides and mothers-of-the-brides had been one of the ideas she’d come up with when directed to take on this project. The Grand hotel chain was bleeding money, and if she didn’t turn the financial trajectory around in a year, they would have to dump it, sell to the highest bidder. Which would only piss off her father since the chain had originally been his acquisition. First, his son had taken over as CEO a year ago and had relegated Malcolm to the position of another Vice President. And now, his bastard daughter, who he resented the hell out of, had been called in to save his failing project. He was not overjoyed.

Still, regardless of her father’s connection to the hotel chain, she wasn’t letting it go under without a fight.

Even if it meant spending a weekend in her private version of hell.

Weddings. Brides. Love. Marriage. Commitment.

Lies. Pain. Betrayal.

Bullshit.

Only a few years ago, she’d been like one of those excited women in the convention hall, visiting the different vendors and ogling the wedding dresses in the fashion show.

But marriage to a cheating football player had obliterated those hopes of happily ever after, boisterous kids, a messy but deliriously happy home, and celebrated anniversaries. Her shit-show of a union had reduced her dreams to just that—dreams.

Now, thirty years old and divorced, she’d rather dance barefoot on a bed of Washington state’s famed prickly pine tree needles than be here among these smiling, foolishly optimistic and naive women. Lambs to the proverbial slaughter.

Her phone vibrated then pinged in her hand, dragging her from her morose, bitter thoughts. Thank God. She was depressing her own self.

“That was fast.” Glancing down at her screen, she expected to see an email notification from Landon, but instead… “Oh, shit,” she muttered, fingers tightening around the cell. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She narrowed her eyes at the little card-like text notification, but nope. The name stayed the same.

Matt Cooper. Her low-life, cheating, lying ex-husband.

Her ex-husband who obviously couldn’t take a hint about leaving her alone. This was the fourth text he’d sent in as many days.

Apparently, “I hope you die, resurrect, choke on a bag of dicks, and die again,” didn’t mean what it used to.

Swiping her thumb across the screen, she relegated the message to the trash can, unread. On a good day, she had a limited number of fucks to give, and this weekend’s event had drained her of every last one. But even if she’d been home doing her couch potato act, she still wouldn’t waste a single, solitary fuck on him, of all people.

“Damn,” she whispered, shoving her phone in her jacket pocket, hating that her hand trembled. Hating that even though a year had passed since she’d discovered Matt’s infidelity, she still resembled a bombed-out, burned shell of a house after a riot—looted, empty, scarred, abandoned…lonely.

Hated herself for allowing just the sight of his name on her phone screen to affect her.

Get it together, she ordered herself, jerking her chin up in a defiant gesture that was lost on everyone in the lobby except her. Matt, her marriage, the devastation he’d wreaked—they were her past. Her career, this project revamping the hotel—they were her future…

Big, thick arms covered in geometric patterns and swirls of black ink banded her waist, pulling her back against a rock-solid wall of muscle.

Holy shit.

Shock whipped through her like wicked, wild lightning, paralyzing every limb. Her lungs seized, trapping her breath but allowing her heart to pound out a rapid, What the living hell? beat.

Do something! Scratch! Stomp a foot! Grab a nut!

The mental shouts reverberated off the walls of her skull like ping-pong balls on speed, but every self-defense technique she’d learned at the YWCA absconded along with her ability to move.

“I think you might have mist—” she began, finally locating her voice.

“Help me.” The deep rumble vibrated against her back before the actual words reached her ears, reminding her of a bear’s growl. Not a Care Bear or Yogi, but a hungry grizzly just waking from hibernation. It was official; she was losing it.

She shook her head, trying to empty it of the inane thoughts. With that voice, she’d have expected him to say a smooth come-on or even something dirty and raw. Definitely not an S.O.S. Apparently taking the gesture as a rejection of his request, he murmured in her ear again with that gravel-and-midnight timbre, his lips brushing her skin.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I’m being hunted. Like big-white-hunter-on-safari hunted. Help me,” he repeated. “I’ll pay you back. A house. Do you need a house? Or maybe a car? Whatever, I got you. I’m desperate…”

Shut up, she mentally hissed at her faceless, flesh-and-blood wrap. And not because he’d just offered to buy her real estate. No, it was because he’d offered to buy her real estate in that voice. That dark, husky growl deserved an aisle in the back room of a sex shop devoted to it. Right next to the nipple vibrators and clamps.

“You know, this smacks of sexual harassment. #MeToo. Ever heard of it?” she asked, injecting a firmness in her tone that was lacking from her resolve not to notice how good. He. Felt.

“Believe me, I’m down with the #MeToo movement. I completely love and respect women. But my virginity is being threatened. Help.”

“Uh…” What the fuck did she say to that? She weakly plucked at a thick wrist. Which was a colossal mistake. Because then she couldn’t help but notice the size of said wrist. Her shock thawed, curiosity creeping in. Jesus. Would her fingers be able to fit around it? As if her hand had seceded from her brain, she could only watch as said fingers sought an answer to the question, circling one of the wrists across her waist. A gap separated the tip of her middle finger and her thumb. Damn. He must be a freaking giant. As if that one thought unlocked a door, a deluge of impressions—of sensations—flooded her.

He surrounded her.

Those heavily tattooed and muscled arms. The wide chest that completely covered her back and shoulders. The thighs that bracketed her legs.

She closed her eyes. Another mistake. His scent—wild like a rain-burdened wind before a storm, and earthy like sunbaked, freshly turned soil—enveloped her in a sensory embrace. The feel of his hard, big body against her smaller, softer frame became even more pronounced, and an image of him holding her the same way in a bed instead of in the middle of a convention center lobby flirted in her head before she could evict it.

Him behind her, his arms still holding her close, thighs spreading her legs wide, hot damp skin branding hers, a cock worthy of the size of those wrists penetrating her, stretching her, setting her on fire…

She shuddered. Had it been so long since she’d been touched that even a stranger whose face she hadn’t even seen could elicit such a strong, visceral reaction? Yep. The answer echoed in her mind as this man nuzzled a spot directly beneath her ear. A spot, coincidentally, directly connected to her nipples. The long-neglected tips hardened as if doing their own happy, it’s about damn time dance. It’d taken Matt a year of dating to discover that particular erogenous zone and this stranger, oh, five-point-two seconds to locate it. Another shiver rippled through her as soft but coarse hair grazed her jaw.

A beard—whoever he was that had her body zooming into hyperdrive sported a beard. She preferred clean-shaven men, not even a five o’clock shadow…didn’t she?

Yes, she firmly—desperately—reminded herself. And no way in hell was she imagining how that hair would feel brushing her inner thighs or her feminine flesh as he lapped at her clit… Aforementioned thighs trembled as heat rolled through her in a long, sinuous wave.

Good God. She was losing her mind along with her control. Scrambling for a tenuous foothold in common sense, she plucked at his wrist again.

“Please. Did I mention I’m desperate?”

“I—” She cleared her throat. Tried again. “Um, fine. But what do—”

He abruptly released her, only to grip her shoulders and turn her around. She just caught a flash of dark eyes with the thickest lashes before a firm, wide mouth settled over hers.

Covered hers.

Sank into hers.

Whoa.

Firm? Had she thought firm? No, his lips—his incredibly mobile, talented lips—were soft, sensual. A man with the voice of a grizzly had no business possessing such a lush mouth, capable of delivering the gentle brushes he currently swept over hers. Bristly hair caressed her chin. Strong teeth nipped at the center of her bottom lip seconds before he soothed the tiny sting with a tender lick and slipped inside her.

A moan escaped her. Shivers overtook her, centering in her chest, belly, and knees. Desperate for purchase in this sudden, confusing landscape of shock and lust, she curled her fingers into his T-shirt, her knuckles bumping a rock-solid wall—or his chest. A big hand cradled the back of her head, another cupping her hip, holding her still. And close. So damn close. For an insane moment, a sense of safety swamped her. In that crazy instant, she believed that anything or anyone gunning for her would have to get past the giant plastered to the front of her body. And even more nuts? She suspected he would mow down anyone who tried.

Safety. Protection.

Just ludicrous.

Especially since his stroking, sucking tongue was the most threatening clear-and-present danger to her sanity, her body, her control.

Yet, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she stood there, allowing her mouth to be fucked. She leaned her head into his palm, opened her mouth wider to the increasingly more demanding thrusts and pulls of his mouth. Enjoyed the harder grip of his fingers on her hip. Savored the darker rumble of his groan. It vibrated against her, setting her nipples into peaks so tight, so tender, she barely stopped herself from rubbing against him like a cat in heat.

“Ronin?” an angry falsetto demanded, penetrating the erotic, midnight haze that had wrapped around her. “Are you serious?

The mouth that had become the center of her universe for the last few moments lifted, abandoning hers. She immediately turned so he couldn’t glimpse the shock, and God yes, lust that probably suffused her face. Lifting trembling fingers to her swollen, sensitive lips, she dipped her head because, yeah, maybe she didn’t want to see his face either. Didn’t want to see that maybe the kiss that had rocked her world had left him completely unmoved.

The huge body that had been pressed against hers shifted, aligning against her side. A heavy arm slid over her shoulders, anchoring her to that frame. Good thing. Her knees still hadn’t recuperated from their Jell-O-like state.

She blinked, steadying herself just as a pair of fire-engine red stilettos and endless, slim legs appeared in her line of vision. They were connected to a gorgeous, furious-looking brunette in a halter-style dress with a knee-length, flared skirt. Behind Kim, the handsy, I-kiss-total-strangers giant, who she assumed was Ronin, didn’t drop his embrace, and she couldn’t miss the fine tension that invaded his body. Especially since he was wrapped around her like an anaconda.

“Hey, Marissa.” He greeted the other woman, the amused and relaxed drawl belying the tautness in his giant frame. “I didn’t know you were attending the expo. What a coincidence. Right, sweetheart?”

Kim blinked again. What reality show hell had she just been dumped into the middle of?

“Sweetheart?” he repeated, giving Kim a not-so-gentle squeeze.

“Right. Coincidence,” she blurted, forcing her lips into a smile that felt as fake as the Gucci wallet the street vendor outside had tried to sell her. “I’m Kim. Nice to meet you.”

Marissa glared at Kim’s extended hand as if it were infected with scabies. All righty then. She lowered her arm.

“I thought you didn’t do girlfriends,” the other woman sneered, scanning Kim from head to toe. One corner of her mouth curled into a derisive smirk. “Isn’t she a little…bland for your tastes?”

Bland? Okay, that was uncalled for. So all her lady bits were covered in a perfectly respectable suit jacket and skirt. That didn’t make her boring; it made her professional. Bitch.

“Maybe he just needed something a little”—Kim paused and pursed her lips, tapping them with a fingertip—“different for him to change his mind,” she finished, pouring so much sugar in her tone that diabetic shock was a real possibility. She shrugged, not an easy feat under the weight of that heavy, tatted arm, and turned in his embrace, dismissing the brunette. “Sweetie, we should really get back inside. The fashion show is starting, and you know I wanted…your…opinion… … Oh, fuck.”

A dark, piratical eyebrow arched high at her hoarse curse, and scalding heat poured into her face. But shock had kidnapped her voice once more, and she couldn’t apologize. Because damn.

Ronin was gorgeous.

Like stunning, swashbuckling, shiver-me-timbers gorgeous. Or gleaming bare chest, loincloth, dancing around a roaring fire gorgeous. Black eyebrows with a wicked arch slashed over equally dark eyes that flashed with humor. Strong cheekbones and an elegant blade of a nose that any model would’ve put out a hit for almost drew attention from a sensual…generous mouth that she intimately knew could deliver on every erotic promise it hinted at. The full, but trimmed, beard completely covered his jaw and framed those lips, making them appear lush, more carnal.

And his body. As her very British mother would say, “Oh my giddy aunt.” She’d felt it pressed up against hers. Surmised from how he damn near surrounded her that he was a big guy. Hell, his hand had nearly spanned her head when he’d cradled it. But she hadn’t been prepared for…this. Her ex had been a large man at six-feet-two, but Ronin… He towered even taller, his shoulders wide and straight. The navy-blue Pac-Man T-shirt covering his chest—that rock-solid wall her knuckles had brushed against when she’d been fisting his shirt—and upper arms couldn’t hide the tight muscles that had her fingers itching to pinch and stroke. Lean hips and powerful thighs completed the package of a man who looked as if he felled trees for a living. Single-handed. The vintage shirt and even older-appearing, faded jeans only added to his almost overpowering masculinity.

He wasn’t pretty; he was too powerful, too virile, too raw, too…just too to ever be labeled that. Even the black hair tucked into a loose bun at the nape of his neck couldn’t detract from her impression of him as a fierce warrior. She’d bet her last Michael Kors purse that at least one of his parents or grandparents could boast of a proud Samoan or Polynesian heritage. With his beautiful golden skin and the big body that towered above her?

Oh yeah, last purse and shoes.

“Overly anxious, isn’t she?” The brunette snickered. “I don’t mind sharing you, Ronin. I think it would be kinda…hot,” she purred.

Oh, for the love of… “Can we go? It’s a little crowded out here,” Kim gritted out.

“Of course,” he murmured, finally removing his arm from around her. And no, damn it, that wasn’t a tiny shaft of disappointment sliding through her. “Nice seeing you again, Marissa,” he said to the other woman then, placing a wide palm to the small of Kim’s back, guided her toward the doors leading toward the convention hall. He grabbed the steel bar, glancing back over his shoulder before releasing it. Relief passed over his features. Turning to face her, he heaved a sigh.

“Thank you for that.” He flashed a sheepish, perfect grin. Of course it’s perfect. Why wouldn’t it be? “And I’m sorry for placing you in that position. But I’m not going to lie. I was scared.”

I will not be charmed. I will not be charmed.

“Just be glad I don’t charge for my services by the hour.” She heard the words as soon as she uttered them. And groaned. Damn. “I didn’t mean—”

His bark of laughter cut her off, and hell, even that was sexy. The low timbre of it slid its way down her spine, culminating in a sizzling tingle in her lower back where his hand had touched her. “Sweetheart, for you, I’d pay by the minute. I have the feeling you’d be worth it. Kim.” He stated her name slowly, as if sipping it like a fine wine, savoring it.

Unnerved by the image, and the coiling in her stomach, she snorted. “I’m sure that was a compliment in a Pretty Woman sort of way. Is that the line you used to land Marissa back there?”

“Of course it was a compliment. But to be fair, you introduced hourly rates into the conversation. And since you asked, it was my”—he leaned closer, as if about to impart a deep, dark secret—“wit that landed Marissa.”

She arched an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, but is that what they’re calling dicks these days?”

Another loud burst of laughter escaped him, turning heads in their direction, and she cringed. What was wrong with her mouth? She didn’t banter with strange men—hell, men period. After being with Matt so long, she’d forgotten the art of flirting. And since finding out what a cheating douche the man she’d been married to was, she hadn’t had the desire to flirt, date, or have sex. To say she was rusty in all areas man-related would be like saying the Grand Canyon was a really big pothole.

She should go, return to her booth. Walk away and forget all about this incident and the man who’d incited it…

“Can I ask you a question?” Inside her head, what the hell are you doing? reverberated. “Why don’t you just tell her the truth? If you’re going to such drastic measures to fend her off, you’re clearly not interested. Why not just tell her you don’t want to be bothered and back off?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” He shrugged. “What kind of jerk do you take me for?”

“Umm, one who will plant a kiss on one woman when he doesn’t know her from Tom, Dick, or Harry, just to avoid confrontation with another?”

He gasped. Seriously. Freaking gasped. “I would never kiss Dick. He’s married, and I’m not that kind of person,” he objected, offense coloring his tone. Part of her was surprised he didn’t press a hand to his chest, clutching non-existent pearls.

“Really?” she drawled, holding back a snort. Barely. Who the hell was this guy? “Are you serious right now?”

“Hell, yeah. I respect the institution of marriage,” he added, one of his piratical eyebrows arching, and that already deep, somehow melodic voice lowering. “And if I were less than the gentleman my mother raised me to be, I would gladly point out that your tongue wasn’t exactly trying to evict me from your mouth. It was too busy tangling with mine. And you were definitely”—he paused, his dark gaze dropping to her suddenly sensitive lips—“tangling.”

She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the twist and grind of lust in her stomach. What the hell? Men who had hair longer than hers, who didn’t shave, and whose fashion sense included T-shirts bearing 80s video game icons weren’t even remotely her type. She favored urbane, well-groomed, clean-shaven men. Men who looked like they stepped out of the boardroom, not the bedroom. As in, just rolled out of that bed. And yet… It didn’t take much effort to still feel that mobile, giving mouth on hers. Didn’t stretch her imagination in the least to once more hear that low, hungry growl. Would only require a sweep of her tongue over her bottom lip to savor the lingering taste of his kiss…

“So glad you’re too much of a gentleman to mention it, then,” she said, aiming for wry, but the breathlessness in her voice torpedoed the hell out of her best intentions. “Still, if you’re going to indulge in booty calls, you might want to prepare a good escape plan afterward.”

God, when had she started sounding so prudish and…bitchy. Uh, right. A year ago. When her husband imploded their marriage with his succession of hookups that, according to him, “meant nothing.” Too bad they’d meant everything to her.

“Does anyone even call it a booty call anymore?” he asked.

She snorted, trying to purge the picture of him and the Marissa woman from her brain. Not that it bothered her. Because it didn’t. Much. “I’ll concede your point. It’s as 80s as that shirt.”

“Now look here, woman.” His brows arrowed into a fierce frown, but the amused gleam in his eyes ruined the pretense of affront. “You can talk about my manners, my kissing technique—which we both know is stellar—or my avoidance of potential ugly-cry skirmishes. But my vintage T-shirts? Off-limits. I have to draw a line somewhere.”

Laughter at his inane argument bubbled up inside her chest. But she tamped it down, the sensation…foreign. Which was just fucking sad. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. And not against the convention center’s air-conditioned breeze, but in self-preservation against his rough charm. “You should’ve drawn the line at the door…of the store you bought it from.”

His laughter seemed to boom off the walls of the large lobby, drawing curious gazes from the people milling about. Not that he seemed to notice. His grin and the twinkle in those bottomless eyes—whose eyes actually twinkled, other than Santa Claus’s?—were pinned on her. As if no one existed for him but her.

Another strange feeling. It’d been a hell of a long time since she’d been anyone’s sole focus.

She shook her head again, harder this time, as if the sharp motion could dislodge the crazy thought.

“I like you,” he said, the soft rumble in his voice sliding over her. Under her suit jacket and shirt. Over bare skin.

Combatting the disconcerting sensation, she scoffed. “Uh-huh. Like Marissa.”

He frowned, and this time, it was barren of amusement. He studied her, and she fought not to fidget or flinch under the piercing inspection. It was startling for all that playfulness to so suddenly disappear, and it left her momentarily reeling.

“Another thing I don’t do to women—lie. I was upfront with her about what I wanted, about what I could give her. And that didn’t include a relationship. Sex. Hot, good, harmless fucking—that’s what I promised. She turned the tables. She tried to make it into something I never wanted or agreed to. But that’s still no reason to be unkind, to treat her like shit.”

Stunned, she stared at him, rocked by his quiet, dignified statement. In that instant, she became the bitter bitch she’d sworn she wouldn’t allow Matt’s betrayal to transform her into. It was one thing to believe football players were walking dicks just waiting for a willing pussy to stick themselves into. But now, she’d judged a man she didn’t know, a regular man who had been attempting to be chivalrous in his own ass-backward way. Or so it seemed.

He very well could be as upfront with other women as he claimed. Yet, he was still here, at a wedding expo, with a woman hunting him down like he sported ivory tusks. Hell, she didn’t know. It would be refreshing if he was as honest as he claimed. Truth be told, she would’ve appreciated honesty from Matt. At least then she would’ve had the choice whether or not to continue in their sham of a marriage.

She lowered her arms, cocking her head to the side. “A word of advice, though?” At his nod, she dipped her head in the direction of the wide doors that led back to the hall. “You might want to keep the kissing of strangers to a minimum if you’re at a wedding expo. I don’t know if you’re here with someone, but—”

A look of absolute horror crossed his face. It would’ve been comical if not for the real terror in it. “Oh shit! Hana.”

Between one moment and the next, he vanished, having disappeared through the doors in a speed that was surprising for such a big man. Bemused, she stared after him. Or rather the place he’d once stood. Shaking her head, she followed him several minutes later.

God.

Kissed by a complete stranger. Confronted by his pissed-off one-night stand. Chatted up about the aforementioned kiss, Pac-Man T-shirts, and booty-call protocol.

This had to be the weirdest wedding expo ever.

 

My Review:  🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Ronin may be my new favorite Washington Warrior!
Scoring the Player’s Baby is quite the ride right from the start. Kim and Ronin are made for each other, from scars to strengths. Their relationship may begin with a one-night-stand that Kim considers a mistake almost immediately after the fact, but it soon becomes more for both of them, above and beyond the consequences of Ronin’s momentary lapse in judgement during their time together.
I gotta say, the WAGS series continues strong, and I can’t wait to see what comes next, both for the next couple, and for the couples that are already happily together within the series this far. I’m more than ready for the next installment, as I absolutely inhaled this one. It’s not the kind of book you’ll want to put down once you get started, so plan accordingly.

 

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of SCORING THE PLAYER’S BABY by Naima Simone, we’re giving away for a $25 Amazon gift card!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open internationally. One winner will be chosen to receive a $25 Amazon gift card. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Entangled Publishing.  Giveaway ends 7/13/2018 @ 11:59pm EST. Entangled Publishing will send one winning prize, Pure Textuality PR will deliver the other. Limit one entry per reader and mailing address. Duplicates will be deleted.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

 

About Naima Simone

USA Today Bestselling author NAIME SIMONE’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey, Sandra Brown and Linda Howard many years ago. Well not that many. She is only eighteen…ish. Though her first attempt at a romance novel starring Ralph Tresvant from New Edition never saw the light of day, her love of romance, reading and writing has endured. Published since 2009, she spends her days—and nights— writing sizzling romances with a touch of humor and snark.

She is wife to Superman, or his non-Kryptonian, less bullet proof equivalent, and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, sometimes domestically-challenged bliss in the southern United States.

 

This promotion is brought to you by Pure Textuality PR.

 

Release Blitz: Bad Habits Boxed Set by Staci Hart

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Six best friends. Three love stories. One big city. Countless laughs.

The Bad Habits Boxed Set, a must read collection from Staci Hart is LIVE!

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WITH A TWIST

West Williams has been friends with Lily since the day she moved into their building and he saved her armoire from a swift, sudden death by staircase. Their friendship has always been easy, the boundaries clearly defined. With neither of them willing to risk their relationship, they’ve drifted happily through the years as companions, never considering more. Until they do. And that realization changes everything.

CHASER

Everyone knows you should never say never. Cooper never saw Maggie coming–she was just his best friend’s little sister, the curly-haired, freckle-faced girl from Mississippi who was absolutely off limits. Maggie never expected to find her fiancé banging her maid of honor an hour before she was set to walk down the aisle, but life’s funny that way. The only option to save her sanity is to get the hell out of Jackson and move to New York where her brother lives. The only downside: Cooper is there too. And she just doesn’t know if she can stay away from him — the filthy rich, dead sexy playboy who’s allergic to commitment.

LAST CALL

Patrick Evans is no stranger to consequences. When your mother walks out, your dad drifts away. When you leave home, you’re on your own. And when you run away from the girl you love, you lose her. He finally has an opportunity to rebuild the bridge he burned with Rose, and it’s not one he’ll take for granted. But he’ll have to fight for her, even if it hurts. Even if it means he’ll walk away brokenhearted. Because deep down, he knows that she’s it for him. The trick will be to get her to admit she feels it too.

HAPPILY EVER HABITS

Who has babies? Who’s getting married? Who has a horrible pun battle, and who tosses their cookies? Find out in this exclusive 30,000 word novella that follows the Habits crew through their very own happy endings.

*This box set includes three full length, bestselling novels, plus an exclusive epilogue novella.*

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Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2J3TByr

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/BadHabitsSH

Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2ugooCN

About the Author

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life — a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey.

From roots in Houston to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.

AuthorPics

Connect with Staci:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2hv5OA5

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/imaquirkybird

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/imaquirkybird/

Website: http://stacihartnovels.com

Newsletter: http://stacihartnovels.com/get-the-newsletter/

Join Her Reader Group Here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/stacihart/

 

Blog Tour: Kissing Jenna (Big Sky #2) by Kristen Proby

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Kissing Jenna by Kristen Proby
Series: Big Sky #2
Release Date: July 10, 2018

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Synopsis: From New York Times Bestselling Author Kristen Proby comes the newest installment in her beloved Big Sky Series…

Jenna Hull owns and manages vacation rentals in her hometown of Cunningham Falls, Montana. She’s just completed the construction of her most exhausting project, the one she’s put her heart and soul into. The inviting, opulent Snow Wolf Cottages are the first ski in/ski out tree houses in the world.

Her biggest dream is about to come true, and she can’t let anything distract her.

Christian Wolfe is Hollywood’s it actor. If the magazines are to be believed, he’s the sexiest man on earth. He’s preparing for the biggest movie role of his life, and his agent has booked him in a hot new ski lodge in Montana, tucked away from crazy fans. He can’t wait for the break.

But what Christian isn’t prepared for is Jenna. With a face that could easily co-star with him in a movie and her ambition to put her stamp on Cunningham Falls, he can’t stay away. But even more intriguing than her beauty is the fact that she’s not at all impressed with his celebrity status, only turned on by the man behind the fame.

The love they’ve found is perfect—but time is running out before real life intrudes. Can they survive with both their dreams—and hearts—intact?

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Read today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2K5cZMB
B&N: https://goo.gl/TpKfM9
Kobo: https://goo.gl/CrAh5F
iBooks: https://goo.gl/xa3gLM
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2Ixp7Vc

Grab Charming Hannah, Book 1 in the Big Sky Series.

Amazon:https://amzn.to/2thMTzy
B&N: https://goo.gl/3oD8qt
Kobo: https://goo.gl/QjS1M8
iBooks: https://goo.gl/GJdQXe
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2IvQJtC

Excerpt:

“Come on in. This is your home away from home for the next four weeks.” I pause in the kitchen while he wanders through the space, looking outside, then taking in the blue kitchen cabinets, the large gas fireplace, and the comfortable furniture. “In the email correspondence, you asked for extra groceries to be stocked in the kitchen, and I’ve done that for you.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Where’s the closest Starbucks?”

I lean my hip on the counter and take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee. “In town.”

“Not on the mountain?”

“There’s a coffee shop up here, yes, but it doesn’t open until tomorrow when the season officially starts. I believe that’s the case for the restaurants up here, too.”

“So, no food up here?”

I shake my head. “No, but I’ll take pity on you and make you dinner tonight, if you like.”

His eyes narrow, suspicion written all over his face. “Why would you do that?”

I lean in as if I’m about to tell him a secret and whisper loudly, “Because I’m a nice person.”

He doesn’t smile.

“You can figure it out for yourself if you want to.” I shrug and lead him to the barn door that closes the small bedroom off the living space. “This is the bedroom on this level. There’s a bathroom here, too. I’ll show you the upstairs.”

I climb the stairs, certain that his eyes are on my ass, and hear him gasp when we reach the top.

“Cool, huh?”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs again, looking up.

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My Review:  🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

An excellent, sweet meet-cute featuring the second Hull sibling: Jenna; which I absolutely loved and could not bring myself to put down for any reason. Told in dual POV, Jenna and Christian’s story has all the makings of a Hallmark movie, with the celebrity hero taking some downtime and researching for a role, and a strong, independent heroine he happened to rent property from for his stay.
Jenna treats Christian like a normal person, and wouldn’t dream of pandering to his wants, or even looking for her fifteen minutes of fame by taking a selfie with the movie star she’s getting up close and personal with: Christian Wolfe.
And Christian is easily captivated by this gorgeous small-town girl, with her fiesta spirit and kind heart, who understands that he has a need to be treated like a normal person, because her brother is rich enough to garner some of the same kind of negative attention. They both intend for their time together to be a fling, with a defined end date.
But it doesn’t take long to realize that Jenna gives Christian something real, something he’s desperately been missing in his life, and that what they have has staying power. Only…Jenna’s life is in Cunningham Falls, and Christian’s in LA. Find out if they go the distance or if the obstacles between them and a happily ever after are too great to surmount in Kissing Jenna. And don’t missing the first book in this series: Charming Hannah, which features Jenna’s big brother Brad, the police chief, and the local gynecologist Hannah.
Next up in the series is Tempting Brooke, which I can’t wait to get my hands on!

Meet Kristen:

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Kristen was born and raised in a small resort town in her beloved Montana. In her mid-twenties, she decided to stretch her wings and move to the Pacific Northwest, where she made her home for more than a dozen years.

During that time, Kristen wrote many romance novels and joined organizations such as RWA and other small writing groups. She spent countless hours in workshops, and more mornings than she can count up before the dawn so she could write before going to work. She submitted many manuscripts to agents and editors alike, but was always told no. In the summer of 2012, the self-publishing scene was new and thriving, and Kristen had one goal: to publish just one book. It was something she longed to cross off of her bucket list.

Not only did she publish one book, she’s since published close to thirty titles, many of which have hit the USA Today, New York Times and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists. She continues to self publish, best known for her With Me In Seattle and Boudreaux series, and is also proud to work with William Morrow, a division of HarperCollins, with the Fusion Series.

Kristen and her husband, John, make their home in her hometown of Whitefish, Montana with their two pugs and two cats.

Connect with Kristen:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BooksByKristenProby/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Handbagjunkie
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kristenproby/
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kristen-proby
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Website: https://www.kristenprobyauthor.com/
Newsletter: https://mailchi.mp/kristenproby/newsletter-sign-up

 

Cover Reveal: Hold You Close by Melanie Harlow & Corinne Michaels

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“I’ll never be able to keep her.”

Hold You Close, an all-new second chance standalone romance by New York Times bestselling author Corinne Michaels and USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow, is coming August 20th!

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Hold You Close by Corinne Michaels and Melanie Harlow

Publication Date: August 20, 2018

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Photographer: Lauren Watson Perry, Perrywinkle Photography

Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative

Synopsis

From NYT Bestseller Corinne Michaels & USA Today Bestseller Melanie Harlow, comes a second chance standalone romance.

Ian Chase broke my heart at seventeen, and I’ve spent the last eighteen years hating him for it.

He makes it easy, with his smart mouth and playboy lifestyle—which I unfortunately have to observe since he lives behind me. Every time I see him climbing out of his pool, practically naked and unreasonably sexy, my blood boils.

I’ve always loved to loathe him.

I never planned to need him.

***

London Parish is my little sister’s best friend, not that it stopped me from falling for her.

Our history is complicated. The only thing we have in common is being godparents to my sister’s three adorable kids—until our lives are changed in one tragic moment.

Now we’re trying to raise the children we love, mourn an unthinkable loss, and fight an undeniable attraction.

My life is already upside-down, and the last thing I need is for old feelings to resurface.

Because I’ll never be able to keep her, no matter how hard I try to hold her close.

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Pre-Order Now

iBooks: https://apple.co/2Jcl6Ga

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2uovt4k

Print: https://amzn.to/2N8rCQC

For a text alert when Hold You Close is available on all platforms:

Text CMBOOKS TO 77948

Or

Text HARLOT to 77948

*US only due to carrier restrictions*

Add to Goodreads:http://bit.ly/2L5BB8J

About the authors:

New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Corinne Michaels is the author of nine romance novels. She’s an emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun loving mom of two beautiful children. Corinne is happily married to the man of her dreams and is a former Navy wife.

After spending months away from her husband while he was deployed, reading and writing was her escape from the loneliness. She enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak and finding a way to heal them through their struggles. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love.
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Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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Get Connected!

Connect with Corinne:

Facebook:https://bit.ly/1iwLh6y

Twitter: https://bit.ly/2Jcp29z

Instagram: https://bit.ly/2L1Vzo6

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2N1H2Gb

Amazon:http://amzn.to/1NVZmhv

Pinterest: https://bit.ly/2m7MkEL

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Stay up to date with Corinne and sign up for her mailing list:

To sign up for monthly text alerts: Text CMBOOKS TO 77948

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Connect with Melanie:

Facebook: https://bit.ly/1RiTP7z

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Website: http://www.melanieharlow.com

Stay up to date with Melanie, sign up for her Mailing List: http://www.melanieharlow.com/subscribe/

To sign up for monthly text alerts: Text HARLOT to 77948

 

Blog Tour: Consume (Civil Corruption #3) by Jessica Prince

 

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Consume by Jessica Prince
Publication Date: July 9th, 2018
Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis: Killian Everett is condescending, egotistical, and a complete jerk.
When I started as the new assistant for the famous rock band Civil Corruption, I thought I’d hit the career jackpot…
but I was wrong.

With his attitude, bad behavior, and stupid good looks, Killian has made my life a living hell since my very first day.
We may fight constantly, but that doesn’t make me want him any less.
And now I know he wants me too.

He wants to seduce me.
He wants to own me.
He wants to consume me.

And if I’m not careful…
I just might let him.

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Read Today!
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2ufvR59
Amazon: UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07F8GVK48
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07F8GVK48
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07F8GVK48
Add to Goodreads! http://bit.ly/2JN2Gke

Excerpt:

“You’re just too much fun to tease, Thumbelina. Every time I talk to you, your face and neck get all… hot and red.” His thumb scraped slowly along my cheekbone, his eyes shooting down to my lips. “I noticed you don’t get this outta sorts with the other guys. Only me. Why do you think that is?”
“I-I, um, don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The corner of his mouth trembled like he was fighting back a smile or laugh. “That so? Then why does your soft skin feel like it’s on fire, sweetness?”
God, he was so damn close. And he smelled so damn good, like whiskey and spicy, citrusy cologne. “I’m just…” Just what? my brain screamed. For the love of all that’s holy, think of words, Gina! “… hot-blooded.” Sweet, merciful mother of pearl! Had I really just said that?
“That you are,” he mumbled in a low, husky voice. “That you certainly fuckin’ are.”
My mouth went dry as a desert. Trying to swallow was like trying to force a wad of cotton down my throat. “Wha—uh, what’s happening here?”
He took another step, coming so close everything about him overwhelmed my senses. “If you don’t know, I’m really off my game. And I’m never off my game.”
After doing a crazy impression of a goldfish, I somehow managed to pick my jaw up off the floor long enough to ask, “Are you hitting on me?”
With his next step, his shoes bumped into the toes of my heels, forcing me to move backward until the balcony railing dug into my behind. Killian placed his hands on either side of my hips and leaned in closer. “You can play coy all you want, but you can’t fool me. You know that’s exactly what I’m doing. And I know you want me just as bad as I want you. It’s written in red all over your cheeks. There’s a damn good reason why I’m the only one of the guys you can’t manage a full sentence around.” My heart threatened to beat through my chest, and I was pretty sure my panties were about to spontaneously combust.
“What do you say we have a little fun tonight, huh? Something tells me you need it,” he whispered before the tip of his tongue peeked out and teased the skin behind my ear. “I’ve been dying to see what you wear under that little barista getup for months.”
“Y-you have?” I asked, my eyes nearly bugging out of my skull.
“Fuck yeah.” It came out in an almost aggressive growl as he closed the last few inches of distance between us, pushing his body flush against mine. A surprised gasp passed my lips at the feel of his thick, steely erection pressing against my belly before quickly turning into a moan when he bent his knees so his cock could brush at the apex of my thighs.
What do you say we have a little fun tonight?
His question kept replaying in my head. I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun. My life was all about responsibility and stress and constant worry.
It had been so long since I had a bit of fun without feeling guilty for it that I barely remembered what it felt like. His proposition suddenly held more appeal than it should. Killian Everett was all kinds of wrong for me. He was a player, the very definition of a man whore.
But I desperately wanted a little fun. I wanted to forget my shitty luck, and how life had a tendency to kick me even though I was already down. And I couldn’t help but think that maybe Killian was just the man to give me that.

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About the Author:

Born and raised around Houston Texas, Jessica spent most of her life complaining about the heat, humidity, and all around pain in the ass weather. It was only as an adult that she quickly realized the cost of living in Houston made up for not being able to breathe when she stepped outside. That’s why God created central air, after all.

Jessica is the mother of a perfect little boy–she refuses to accept that he inherited her attitude and sarcastic nature no matter what her husband says.

In addition to being a wife and mom, she’s also a wino, a coffee addict, and an avid lover of all types of books–romances still being her all time favs. Her husband likes to claim that reading is her obsession but she just says it’s a passion…there’s a difference. Not that she’d expect a boy to understand.

Jessica has been writing since she was a little girl, but thankfully grew out of drawing her own pictures for her stories before ever publishing her first book. Because an artist she is not.

Connect with the Author:

Website: www.authorjessicaprince.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorjessicaprince
Instagram: http://bit.ly/JessPrinceInstagram
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JessPrince2013
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/_KJ0n
Jessica’s Princesses: http://bit.ly/JPsPrincesses

 

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