Corinne Michaels is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author of The Salvation Series (Beloved, Beholden, Consolation, Conviction & Defenseless). 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.
Both her maternal and paternal grandmothers were librarians, which only intensified her love of reading. After years of writing short stories, she couldn’t ignore the call to finish her debut novel, Beloved. Her alpha heroes are broken, beautiful, and will steal your heart.
“Hey.” Zach peers at me as I shake off my thoughts. “I figured you’d be asleep.” He climbs the steps slowly as I get to my feet.
“I figured you’d be gone.”
I walk toward him, unsure of why he’s here. “I left for a bit, but wanted to come check on you.”
He snickers. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.” He’s close enough that I can smell his cologne. Even after a long night, being in the woods, he smells like home.
I take another step.
I’m so close I have to tilt my head to look into his eyes.
I breathe him in, feel his heat, and I can’t stop myself. I want him. I need him. I grip his neck and yank his mouth to mine. I kiss him. I kiss him and give in to everything I’ve been feeling. He doesn’t waste a second. His arms wrap around me, holding my body against his. My fingers grip his neck, keeping him exactly where I need him. This kiss is frantic, but God it feels good.
An excellent read. I fully recommend. A tearjerker from the very beginning, but where’s the satisfaction in a happy ending without a little loss needing to be counter balanced? Presley Benson is the mother of twin boys, who’s lost everything and come home. To find her first love again, the first man who left her. Zach Henneington has been home for years. He’s always regretted how things ended with Presley, and seeing her again, he knows he wants a second chance at the girl who got away. But Presley has a lot of secrets, and a lot to work through with the loss of her husband. She’s not sure she’s ready to start anything, let alone with a man that she’s not sure she’s willing to trust with her heart again. Or with her boys.
A hard-won second chance romance that draws you in further with every chapter. Presley and Zach are perfectly matched, and you’ll cheer with each hurdle they surpass on their road back to each other.
Zeus sent Hermes, and the Oracles have used their magic, with no success. A sparkle of hope arises when Eris, the goddess of Chaos, sends an invitation to her wedding engagement party. She’s holding Mason hostage, and Skylar and her friends only need permission to enter Eris’s world to rescue him.
At the party, Eris gives them one condition: In exchange for Mason, they must travel to the Land of Reverse and bring back the bottle of gold water King Midas used to wash himself free of his gift. Further chaos follows when Eris not only sets up a hunt in the Labyrinth of Crete, but makes a bargain with the Titans she rescued.
The Titans possess power more than anyone anticipated, and Cronus is hungry for revenge after his own children locked him up in Tartarus. No one is safe. Not even the humans.
Mary Ting resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one-Something Great. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children’s chapter book-No Bullies Allowed.
Nick sprang from behind and pounded on the invisible wall. “You crazy bitch! Let my brother go.”
Hades held him back. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s been going a bit crazy looking for his brother. I’m sure you understand.”
Eris glared and hissed, showing her perfect white teeth. “Don’t be a fool, Nick, or you’ll never see your brother. But he’s not really your brother. Isn’t he just a half-brother? Anyway, I can’t wait to call you brother-in-law. We’ll become one happy family.” She showed off her white teeth but didn’t smile.
Nick covered his ears. “Over my dead body.”
“Now, now. Behave, little one,” she scolded, waving her finger. “Or I just might give you what you wish for. Death is permanent, you know…at least for your kind.”
Nick growled, and light shot from his fingertips. Everett held him back. When Zeus gestured with his hand, Nick stilled.
Zeus focused on Eris again. “Where’s Cronus? Tell him to show himself.” His calm tone sounded confident, but I knew he feared his father.
“Cronus isn’t here.”
“Liar!” Zeus sent the lightning from his staff. It flashed into the invisible wall and burst in brightness, blinding us, but it didn’t penetrate the wall.
Eris laughed, like Zeus had told the funniest joke. “I’m the goddess of my domain. You can’t hurt me here. I call the shots, Zeus. Funny how the roles are reversed. I kind of like that. But don’t worry. You’ll see him soon enough—or not. When I say so. So, would you like to come to my party, or are we going to argue all day?” Eris brushed the side of her hair, smirking. “It’s funny how Zeus is begging to come to my party. It was the other way around before.”
“I’m not begging,” Zeus growled, his eyes crackling with electricity. His rage shook the ground. “You’re forcing me to come. Get this over with before I do something I won’t regret. And to clarify: It wasn’t my wedding. I didn’t send out the invitations, but if I had, I wouldn’t have invited you anyway.”
Eris threw a daggered glare at Zeus and waved her hand. As the invisible wall started to disintegrate, a new world materialized.
I sighed heavily and gazed around Masquerade, an intimately lit London nightclub where everyone wore black domino masks, some elaborate and some plain, to hide their identity. A few die-hards even sported dark clothing with long, loose cloaks. Not me though. I’d gone modern with a slinky little number and three-inch heels, putting my height at nearly six feet. Yep, I’m the giant in the blue dress, towering over every girl and some guys at the bar.
My top teeth dug into my bottom lip as I gazed around the smoky club, my eyes bouncing off random faces. Even in a room full of party people, music, and strobe lights, I was lonely.
My groom was missing.
That’s right. Hartford Wilcox, Jr., aka Mr. Nice Guy at Whitman University in North Carolina, had jilted me two weeks before the big wedding day as we had dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, Mario’s.
And now here I was—on my honeymoon and getting trashed with my best friend Lulu who’d decided to skip her beach vacation and come with me at the last minute.
She poked me with her finger as we sat in front of the heavy wooden bar of the club. “Hey, Earth to Remi, get that glazed look out of your eyes and order a drink already. I’m thirsty.” She fluffed her pixie-cut pink hair and straightened her black tutu, eyes scoping out the club. “Dang, the men in here are hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch,” she said in her honeyed southern drawl.
I half-heartedly agreed, not really caring, more intent on scanning the bottles behind the bar. “I want tequila,” I murmured. “A whole bottle.”
Her face snapped back to me and her green eyes widened. “Uh-uh. No way. I know what happens when you drink that crap. You either eat a ton of tacos and puke, or you wrap yourself around some cocky bastard with a well-developed tush.”
True. I did love a tight muscular ass.
But I wouldn’t get one tonight.
A short laugh burst out of me, one of those I’m-miserable-but-pretending-to- be-okay-laughs that I’d been doing a lot of lately. For the past two weeks, I’d vacillated between a sobbing mess and an angry woman who became so incensed that “fuck” was the only word that seemed appropriate in any given situation. Going to the post office to mail he dumped me, but thank you anyway cards. Fuck. Going to the wedding venue and not getting the ten thousand dollar deposit back. Fuck. Realizing I was homeless fall semester—which was in two weeks—fuck. Listening to my mother tell me it was my fault. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The bartender delivered my bottle and poured me a shot. I sucked the tequila down while Lulu watched me warily. It tasted like bad decisions and gasoline, but tonight was about forgetting. The sooner the better.
A few minutes later, Lulu went out to dance with a British guy she’d been making eyes at. I sat glumly at the bar, fiddling with my diamond tennis bracelet, rubbing it like rosary beads. I needed to forget Hartford, and according to Lulu, that meant hooking up with someone.
Was she right?
Fate answered in the form of a beautiful man—and by beautiful I mean drop-dead sexy with a backside so delectable and muscular my mouth plopped open.
I snapped my lips shut and adjusted my velvet half-mask—the annoying feathery plumes on the sides kept sticking to my red lipstick—and turned ever so slightly to check him out, not wanting to appear obvious. He slid into the seat next to me, tall and broad with rippling shoulders and a massive frame.
I checked my appearance in a mirror behind the bar, mentally analyzing the odds of a girl like me snagging a hottie like him.
Although no one had ever called me beautiful, I did have two—okay, maybe three—things going for me in the looks department. My shiny, golden-brown hair that hung down in waves to my shoulders, my fluffy “pillow lips” as Lulu described them, and lastly, I had an itsy bitsy space between my two front teeth which were otherwise white and perfect. Lulu claimed the gap lent me an exotic look, like Madonna or Sookie Stackhouse. Whatever. I was a True Blood fan. I went with it.
He shifted on the stool, leaning closer to me. His cologne swirled in the air, the smell of expensive Scotch and musk mingling together to create a heady, slightly dangerous scent. I paused, goosebumps rising on my bare arms. The spicy whiff triggered a distant memory just out of reach.
As slyly as I could, I studied his profile from top to bottom. Like me he wore a black mask, although his was more masculine, not hiding his chiseled, movie star jawline. His lips were carnal and luscious, the bottom more plump than the top with a slight indentation in the middle. As I watched, his tongue swept out and caressed it, his top teeth biting it as if he were deep in thought. He raked a hand through his dark, longish messy hair, held it suspended above his head for a few seconds and then released it, letting it swish back into its tousled yet perfect place.
I tore my eyes away.
Something about him sent loud warning bells ringing in every atom of my body.
Danger, danger. Don’t touch that.
But my gaze would not be denied as I took in the tight black shirt and sculpted chest that was obviously used to the inside of a gym, right down to an arm that looked like it could snap a board in half—or me.
Nice biceps, Mr. Beautiful.
The pièce de résistance was the vivid blue and orange dragonfly tattoo displayed on his left arm. It was larger than my hand and took up most of his bicep. My eyes traced the contours of the design from the papery wings to the multi-faceted eyes. A bold black color outlined the insect, giving it a masculine feel.
True Religion jeans stretched down long legs and ended in a pair of black Converse without socks, giving him a boyish quality that was in direct contrast to the crazy-sexy-bad-boy vibe he had going on.
Maybe. He was the polar opposite of Hartford who was blond, lean, and tattoo-free.
I nibbled on my fingernail. How do I get him to notice little ol’ me?
Just then a redhead with fluffy Farrah Fawcett hair strode up to his stool, bold as brass, wearing a tight, white mini-skirt that barely covered her booty. She brought with her the smell of sweet, cloying perfume, the kind I always got spritzed with at the mall.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, casually rubbed her finger down his arm and struck up a conversation. Her fake, black lashes—which she’d somehow managed to get outside the eyeholes of her mask—batted. She puffed out her well-developed chest.
He smiled back at her with a wicked grin, his relaxed body language telling me he was confident when it came to women. She whispered in his ear, boobs right in his face, but whatever he said back wasn’t what she wanted to hear because a few ticks later, she crossed her arms, glared at me, and stalked away.
I blinked. What had I done?
Then he turned and pointed his devastating smile at me.
Shit, he’d made eye contact—as much as you could with a claustrophobic mask on.
Was he crazy?
Because if he’d turned down her flirtation, I didn’t have a shot.
I didn’t know how to do the fingers-tip-toeing-up-his-arm-thing and sexy hair flicking. I didn’t know a thing about applying fake eyelashes. I didn’t know how to make my breasts sit up that high. I looked away from him and took another shot, feeling anxious and strangely off-kilter.
Mr. Beautiful ordered a drink from the bartender, his British accent smooth as silk as it washed over me. I froze. I almost knew that voice—deep with soft rounded vowels that made you tingle in your lady parts.
What was it about this guy that had me all jacked up and hot for him?
Hello, tequila, my inner voice said. But it was more than that.
Getting brave, I pivoted on my barstool, and found Mr. Beautiful’s eyes on me once more, searching my face. As if he too recognized the pull between us.
My heart played hopscotch, jumping against my chest. My skin prickled. I shivered.
Did I know him?
It was his voice, the same deep quality, the kind of voice that made you want to hop into his bed and ride him like a cowgirl.
My breath hitched, and I swallowed down the emotion that zipped up my spine whenever I thought of him. He was my one mistake, the time I’d tossed inhibitions and carefully laid plans aside and went with my instincts, only to have them tossed back in my face.
But the man next to me wasn’t Dax. Thank God.
Last spring at the campus-wide end of the year fraternity party with Hartford, I’d seen Dax, and he’d had shorter hair, like always, and zero tattoos. Yeah. No way.
Plus, last I heard, he was in Raleigh where his father lived.
Dax was British. He could have family here. Maybe he got a tattoo?
Nah. I mean, what were the odds of us both being at the same club on the same night in a country where neither of us lived?
I tore my eyes off Mr. Beautiful and waved at a bartender for more limes, but somehow my tennis bracelet snagged on the bodice of my dress, leaving my wrist dangling like a wet dishrag in a most inappropriate place.
I wiggled my arm.
Even went so far as to jerk, but it wouldn’t separate.
Sweat popped out on my forehead. Holding my breath, I twisted and tugged the bracelet, forcing the delicate material in my bodice to stretch beyond normal limits.
“Well, hell,” I breathed, pausing to assess.
Skin-tight with a plunging neckline, the dress was mostly a stretchy fabric held together by sequined straps and a zipper on the side. Slated as part of my honeymoon wardrobe, it was a Tory Burch and had cost four hundred dollars, the most I’d ever paid for a fun outfit, and no way did I want to damage it. I might have to return it to rent an apartment at Whitman.
Lulu. I needed Lulu. She was a whiz with wardrobe malfunctions.
I spun around on the barstool and used my free hand to wave at her, but she was slinging herself around dancing, having a great time and completely oblivious. I resorted to flapping both hands at her, one high and one low. Several people waved back with baffled expressions, but Lulu didn’t notice. Dammit.
I groaned and slumped down in my seat, ready to scream. Now what? Go to the bathroom and repair it there? Good plan.
But the club tilted when I stood, the strobe lights making me squint as they flashed in my face. I wobbled in my leopard print heels—that Lulu had insisted I wear—and grabbed the stool to keep my balance. `
I sucked in a breath to gather myself, but I couldn’t think straight. The room spun, and I was suddenly queasy, and why did I slam all that tequila, and oh my god, my wrist is currently attached to my tit like a T. rex arm.
I had to get out of here before someone noticed what an idiot I was.
Trying to be stealth like, I reached across the bar to get my beaded clutch, but because it was my left hand and not my right that I used most of the time, I got off balance and stumbled—and my ankle folded in on itself. I yelped as my shoe catapulted off my foot and vaulted off toward the dance floor, while I fell forward, straight into Mr. Beautiful’s lap.
Two weeks before her wedding, Remi Montague’s fiancé drops her faster than a drunken sorority girl in stilettos. Armed with her best friend and a bottle of tequila, she hops a plane to London to drown her sorrows before fall semester begins at Whitman University.
She didn’t plan on attending a masquerade party.
She sure didn’t plan on waking up next to the British bad boy who broke her heart three years ago—the devastatingly handsome and naked Dax Blay. Furthermore, she has no clue how they acquired matching tattoos.
Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.
But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…
One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.
*A modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet*
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She’s addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.
She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.
When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.
Lochlanach has traded the great beast for something far more terrible, a Lashed enemy veiled in beauty, deception, and a vengeance passed down through generations: Rozaria Rocato. And she’s offering the hunter Paxton Seabolt power and acceptance he could never receive in his homeland. Pax must decide how far he’s willing to go under her tutelage, knowing she is the opponent of Princess Aerity Lochson.
In a land where traditionalists dread change, the Lochlan throne must contend with mysterious foes and traitors, while attempting to keep revolt at bay. As dire circumstances strike the royal family, matters of the castle are left in Aerity’s hands. It’s time to put aside her fears and grasp the reign, taking actions that have the potential to save or destroy her people.
One hunt has ended, but the pursuit for love and justice continue. In this sequel to The Great Hunt from New York Times bestselling author Wendy Higgins, political intrigue and romance intensify in another thrilling fantasy. Princess Aerity embraces a quest for identity and passion before making the ultimate sacrifice for her kingdom.
He’s imagined the sexy brunette in his bed more times than he can count.
She’s everything he’s ever wanted, but the only problem is…
She’s his brother’s ex.
For years, the stoic sheriff’s deputy has fantasized about the sweet, bubbly dance teacher who stirs his deepest desires. But Lane’s too loyal to ever move in on forbidden territory and he knows that while he can look, he definitely can’t touch. Fighting his attraction to Delilah is nearly impossible, but the infuriating-and incredibly sexy-woman seems determined to drive him crazy.
And she’s bringing him to his knees. One smoldering kiss at a time.
My Review: 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
Smolder is a fabulous follow-up to a fantastic beginning. Ignite was hot, and Smolder sizzles. The fires burning in Wildwood just aren’t the kind that are easy to put out.
In Smolder, we have Lane Gallagher, the often surly Deputy who is super serious about his job and has strict rules about how he lives his life. One of the big ones? No matter how much he wants Delilah Moore, he’s determined that she’s off limits. After all, she’s his little brother’s ex. So, no matter how often he thinks about those long, dancer’s legs of hers, he’s convinced that they can’t be together. More than that, even, he’s convinced that relationships aren’t for him, and Dee’s the kind of girl who deserves the world. Keeping her at arm’s length, that’s what’s best for both of them. At least, that’s what he believes.
And then there’s Delilah, who’s more of a free spirit than Lane. She believes in going after what you want in life with all you have. What she wants more than anything, what she’s wanted for years now, is Lane. For a while now, she’s thrown herself at the man every chance she’s gotten. And every time she starts to think they’ve finally made some progress, he pushes her away. Waiting for him to make a move, to give up his perpetual hot-and-cold routine, seems to be a serious exercise in futility. So much so that she’s about ready to throw in the towel, no matter that she’s invested years in chasing after the man. But she makes one last effort to make him see what she sees: that they’re seriously perfect for each other.
Smolder is a sizzling read from start to finish, sparks flying every time you turn a page. Take one stubborn, protective, stand-offish Deputy who’s convinced he knows best and isn’t capable of romance. Have him collide repeatedly with one feisty, determined dancer who wants to take care of him in any and every way possible. And stir in an arsonist who keeps getting bolder by the day. Mix well, until everybody’s all whipped up and emotions run high.
And hang in for one helluva ride. Savor the fires started in Wildwood. Once Ignited, they Smolder forever. There’s no escaping the heat, and you won’t want too. Pick up Lane & Delilah’s story today! And, if you’ve missed West & Harper, check them out, too. Next for Wildwood is Torch, out in August!
USA Today bestselling author Karen Erickson is a firm believer in romance and happily ever afters. The author of too many contemporary romance books to count, she lives in central California on 14 acres of property with her husband, three kids, one dog and too many cats. Being a romance writer and bringing her characters to life is her greatest dream come true.
IGNITE, her newest release, is the first in her new Wildwood series with Avon Impulse.
Dirty Sexy Cuffed by Carly Phillips and Erika Wilde Series: Dirty Sexy #3 Release Date: June 21, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Romance
“Scintillatingly sexy. Phillips and Wilde deliver a sinfully hot story you won’t soon forget!” K. Bromberg, NY Times Bestselling Author
“The love story Phillips and Wilde crafted was rare, dipped in a reality so natural and organic it held my heart from the very first page.”
Audrey Carlan, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author
Are you ready to get Cuffed?
As a cop, Levi Kincaid is all about discipline and control . . .in the bedroom, and out of it, and he’s always been very careful about choosing women who abide by his rules.
Hot sex and intense pleasure?
Emotional commitment and forever promises?
But he never anticipates falling for a blue eyed angel who makes him want to cuff her to his bed and do dirty, sexy things to her. And that control of his? It doesn’t stand a chance against Sarah Robins, the one woman he can’t resist . . .
Carly Phillips is the N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of over 50 sexy contemporary romance novels, including the Indie published, Dare to Love Series. She is happily married to her college sweetheart, the mother of two nearly adult daughters and three crazy dogs. Carly loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers.
The highly anticipated second book in #1New York Times Bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout’s Wicked Trilogy has a cover! The amazing TORN cover was created by Sarah Hansen from Okay Creations with photography by Kelsey Kukal-Keeton from K Keeton designs. Check it out below! TORN is set to release July 19th. Be sure to grab the first book in the series, WICKED, which is on sale for $.99 for a limited time!
Torn between duty and survival, nothing can be the same.
Everything Ivy Morgan thought she knew has been turned on its head. After being betrayed and then nearly killed by the Prince of the Fae, she’s left bruised and devastated—and with an earth-shattering secret that she must keep at all costs. And if the Order finds out her secret, they’ll kill her.
Then there’s Ren Owens, the sexy, tattooed Elite member of the Order who has been sharing Ivy’s bed and claiming her heart. Their chemistry is smoking hot, but Ivy knows that Ren has always valued his duty to the Order above all else—he could never touch her if he knew the truth. That is, if he let her live at all. Yet how can she live with herself if she lies to him?
But as the Fae Prince begins to close in on Ivy, intent on permanently opening the gates to the Otherworld, Ivy is running out of options. If she doesn’t figure out who she can trust—and fast—it’s not only her heart that will be torn apart, but civilization itself.
Things are about to get Wicked in New Orleans…
Don’t miss the first title in the series, WICKED, now just $.99 for a limited time only!
#1 New York Times and #1 International Bestselling author Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki.
Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV. Her young adult romantic suspense novel DON’T LOOK BACK was a 2014 nominated Best in Young Adult Fiction by YALSA.
She also writes Adult and New Adult contemporary and paranormal romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.