Thursday, May 19, 2016


Excerpt

 “You are all kinds of tattooed hotness, Kayden Wilkens. Hawk.”

His lips curve. “Is that you talking or the wine?”

“It’s called liquid courage.”

“You’re adorably drunk.”

I stroke his cheek, which feels much better than mine. “But you’re here, and you are The Hawk and I know I’m safe.”

“You are safe with me, Ella.”

“I am, but you’re dangerous to everyone else.”

His expression sobers. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Don’t go getting serious on a drunk person. I didn’t mean that negatively—you’re everyone’s protector.” I grab his T-shirt. “I meant that the bad guys are in trouble when they piss you off. And I meant it like you’re a badass, thus the ‘you’re sexy’ comment. Wait. Did I say that or think that? I’m saying it now. You’re sexy.”

He flattens his hand at the small of my back. “Badass?”

“Badass.”

“Do you know how badly I want to be inside you right now? Right here?” His hands go to my sides, traveling to my breasts, his thumbs stroking my nipples to hard peaks.

I grab his hands as my cheeks flush. “Too bad I wore jeans. You’ll have to behave.”

“Will I?” he asks, flicking my nipple.


I grab his wrists, firming my voice. “Stop, because yes, you do. I am not getting undressed in public.”

He reaches down and fingers the easily undone laces that line the front of my jeans. “I’ll settle for you having an orgasm until we get home.”

I reach for his hand. “I can’t have an orgasm in public, either,” I say, but my body betrays me, my sex clenched and wet.

“That sounds like a challenge—and this is barely public.” He pulls several of my laces loose. “I told Niccolo I couldn’t command you to orgasm. I want to try.”

“You can,” I assure him. “You can pretty much just look at me and I’m wet.”

“Are you telling me you’re wet now?”

“Very—so take me home and do something about it.”

His hand goes to my jaw and he drags my gaze to his.

“I never thought I’d use the word home again—let alone have a woman I want to use it with. I love you, Ella.”

“I love you too—” He slips his fingers beneath the laces and suddenly they’re intimately pressed to my sex. “That was unfair!”

“You’re not wearing panties,” he observes, slipping a finger inside me.

“Kayden—”

“And you are very, very wet.” His head lowers, lips at my ear. “I would kill to feel you around me right now.”

I pant, and my sex clenches around his fingers. “You’re about to embarrass me.”

“No one can see us.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean—” He thumbs my clit and presses another finger inside me. “I’m going to come really fast.” He kisses me, a deep slide of his tongue, and oh . . . oh . . .





Ella and Kayden’s story continues in Demand by Lisa Renee Jones on May 31st!

Pre-order your copy TODAY!


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Grab Denial (Book One) for $1.99!







Blurb

Still struggling with amnesia, Ella questions everything she’s known about Kayden Wilkens—the alluring stranger who claims to have found her unconscious in an alleyway a month earlier. But was he truly a stranger—or did Kayden know her before his supposed rescue? Tormented by the potential betrayal he denies, with fleeting memories of a bombshell in her recent past, Ella must face a hard reality. Every action has consequences . . . and trusting Kayden, the one thing she most desires, might result in the direst consequences of all.




Although the Careless Whispers series is a continuation of Lisa’s Inside Out series, the books from Inside Out do not have to be read first. However, Denial, Demand and Surrender, must be read in order.


Book one, DENIAL, is available NOW and ONLY $1.99!

Book three, SURRENDER, coming January 2017
B&N and Audible coming soon

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series, which is now in development for a television show to be produced by Suzanne Todd of Team Todd (Alice in Wonderland). Suzanne Todd on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy - a modern girl we all can identify with. I’m thrilled to develop a television show that will tell Sara’s whole story - her life, her work, her friends, and her sexuality.

In addition to the success of Lisa's INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin's Press.
Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women's Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

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








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DIRTY GIRL

By: Meghan March



Desperately seeking rich, famous, single guy with a giant cock to make my lying, cheating, should’ve-been-born-dickless ex-boyfriend realize what he’s just lost.
Oh, and I give great head. Just sayin’.

No man in his right mind would answer that ad.
Except thousands did.
My name is Greer Karas, and I should never be allowed near another bottle of booze again. Because when I drink, my friend and I do stupid things. Like take a page out of my older brother Creighton’s playbook and post something completely asinine on the Internet. Waking up with a giant hangover to find my humiliating personal ad has gone viral is not my finest moment.
Cue my look of shock when one of Hollywood’s hottest new bad boys, Cavanaugh Westman, comes knocking at my door and drops his pants to prove that he does indeed have a giant cock.
What he doesn’t have is an explanation for why he disappeared from my life without a word three years ago, only to show up on the big screen two years later, killing bad guys in action flicks.
And now he wants me again.
What the hell do I do now?







EXCERPT:



Greer

No. Fucking. Way.

Can you photoshop real life? Because that’s the only way I can possibly be seeing through my peephole what I’m seeing right now.

Cavanaugh Westman. In the flesh. Outside my door.

The knock stopped me mid-shuffle on the way to my coffeemaker. So that makes me an uncaffeinated, makeup-less, messy-bunned, legging-wearing couch surfer who hasn’t showered in the two days I’ve spent holed up in my apartment.

He can’t see me like this.

I’ve had so many fantasies of how it will go when I finally came face-to-face with Cav again. I’ll be wearing something sexy, yet classy. Perfect hair, makeup, eyebrows. I’ll adopt a casually disinterested mien. He’ll be devastated when he realizes what he missed out on by standing me up that night and disappearing without a word.

There’s no way in hell I’m answering that door. Cav Westman can sit out in my hallway all day. Not opening it.

But Cav reads my mind, the bastard.

“Open the door, baby girl. Your message came through loud and clear with that ad.”

A barely audible gasp escapes my lungs.

“That’s right, I know you’re standing there. So, open the door, Greer.”

His deep, gravelly voice stirs memories I thought I wiped out of my brain. Apparently not.

I rush to the couch to grab my phone. I need to text Banner. Need to freak out with her and schedule an emergency spa day so I can be all the things I need to be before facing him again.

My thoughts come to a screeching halt. I do not need to impress Cav Westman. He’s nothing to me. And I can prove it right now by opening the door. He’ll see exactly how much I don’t care about his opinion.

Before I can change my mind, or look down at my shirt to make sure I’m not sporting any stains from yesterday’s coffee, I reach for the dead bolts and unlock them before I twist the doorknob and tug.

As soon as the door is open, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Through the peephole, he was marginally distorted. On the billboards and movie posters plastered to the sides of buses in the city, he looked like a total stranger. But Cav in the flesh?

Devastating.

I lose my grip on the door and it swings open.

How does he not look older? No new lines bracket his mouth or crease the corners of his eyes. Instead, a new scar curves along his jaw, giving him a sexier, more dangerous look. His shoulders are impossibly broader, making his hips seem even narrower.

His hazel eyes flash as he takes me in—at least they haven’t changed. Today they’re more tawny gold than gray or green. Guessing what color they would be was part of the game I played with myself before. His dark brown hair is sexy and disheveled, longer than the buzz cut he had before, but everything else is the same. Worn jeans, a plain T-shirt, and scuffed boots. Strong, bold features that many a man would find impossible to carry off, but are the reason millions of women would line up to have Cavanaugh Westman’s babies.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper, reminding myself that I no longer have some naive fantasy of being the one for Cav.

His gaze returns to my face, and I know his inspection of me can’t be nearly as flattering as mine of him.

I’m waiting for him to say something . . . anything. Like an apology or an explanation for disappearing three years ago, but instead I get something completely different.

His hands drop to the button of his jeans. “Based on your ad, the inspection isn’t quite complete.”

If my jaw could drop to the floor like a cartoon character’s, it would.

Oh. My. God. I never saw what he was packing before, only a grazing handful the one night I finally got bold, but he put me off, promising me a night that never happened.

I stand like a slack-jawed moron and force my gaze to his face.

“What are you doing?”

His wicked grin—one he uses so rarely, even in the movies of his I’ll never admit I’ve seen—wipes away the three years between our past and present.

The hiss of the zipper comes next.

I keep my gaze on his face as his eyes dare me. To look or to stop him, I’m not sure which.

“Apparently you’ve changed your requirements for wooing, baby girl.”

The endearment on his lips brings back another wave of memories, but the flex of his bicep against the sleeve of his T-shirt steals my attention.

Oh. My. God.

He’s gripping his cock, stroking it, isn’t he? All I have to do is look down, and I’ll have more than one question answered.

“You know you wanna look.”

The dare is there again. And he’s right. I want to look. So I do.

Sweet Jesus.

Oh. My. Hell.

Well, let’s just say Cav knocked that requirement out of the park. The sight of his long, thick cock in his big, capable hand sends heat rushing south through my body, pooling between my thighs. My nipples, sans bra, strain against the material of my shirt. Cav’s gaze drops as well—to my chest.

The room pulses with a desperate intensity. Hanging between us is the night we never had. The one he walked away from.

I have two choices. Take what I want, what I asked for, or hold on to the rejection he dealt me three years ago.

My brain short-circuits on one thought—life is short, and you never know if you’ll get a second chance.

So I step forward, wrap one hand around his neck and the other around his cock, and kiss him for everything I’m worth.










ABOUT MEGHAN MARCH
Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She's also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she's ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.








Henry Alexander's story in The Spiral Down by Aly Martinez is NOW LIVE! 



 Download your copy of this M/M Standalone TODAY!



Blurb
I was afraid to fly.
He made me soar.

After years of climbing the ladder of success in the music industry, I finally had everything I could want.
Yet I still found myself wandering through life alone.

Captain Evan Roth was the one man I never saw coming.
Tall, dark, mysterious… Straight.

We were both damaged beyond repair and searching for something so elusive we weren’t sure it even existed.

But, when two broken souls collide in midair, falling is a given.

I just never expected to crave the spiral down.



Excerpt

Henry

“How about you and one of your girls come out to my show in L.A. next week? My treat. Dinner, drinks, the whole deal. Evan and I would love to take you two beautiful ladies out for an evening.”

“Excuse me?” he exclaimed, cocking his head to catch my gaze.

I leaned back into my seat and lifted a hand to massage his shoulder. I was barely able to suppress a moan when the angle of his firm trap muscle met my palm.

Fuck, this guy was built like a brick wall. And I was going to love every second of watching him crumble for me.

“Oh, come on, Evan. It’s the least we can do. Double date.” I winked at Jessica. “You can fly them out! My plane should be ready by then.”

Jessica’s eyes jumped to Evan’s. “You’re a pilot?” Her smile spread irritatingly wide.

Back off, Ginger Spice.

Snapping my fingers in her direction, I corrected, “He’s my pilot.”

Subtlety was not a virtue I possessed. Was subtlety a virtue at all?

“Your temporary pilot,” he amended before shaking his head and then tipping his beer to his lips for a long pull.

“Anyway. Do we have a date?” And, by date, I meant feeding her dinner while I attempted to work my way into Evan’s pants.

She pressed one finger to her lips and then nervously flashed her eyes around the cabin.

“Oops. Sorry.” I shrugged sheepishly. Lifting my drink to my mouth, I discreetly passed her my cocktail napkin and then not-so-discreetly brushed my forearm against Evan’s chest as I pulled away.

He offered her a tight smile just before she disappeared.

I grinned proudly.


“What the fucking hell was that?” he whisper-yelled at me.

“That was me getting a woman’s number.”

He arched an eyebrow. “A woman. Really?”

“What? Is that not allowed?” I feigned innocence.

He clenched his fist in his lap, and it made me suddenly aware that my own hands had stopped trembling—and in record time, I should note. Evan seemed to be quite useful in the art of distraction.

He leaned closer. “Don’t bullshit me. I looked you up. You’re…” He stopped, unwilling to say the big, bad “G” word.

“I’m what?” I taunted.

He rolled his eyes and chugged the rest of his beer.

We went back to silence until Jessica came back by with another drink, complete with her phone number written on the napkin.

“I’m not going on a double date,” Evan said as I tucked the napkin into my pocket. “You want me to fly them out? Not a problem. Schedule it with Jackson. But that’s the extent of my professional responsibilities. And, since I’m off the clock right now, I’d also like to mention that I think whatever play you’re planning to run on that woman is fucked up.”

My head snapped to his. “I’m sorry. Play?” I asked with more attitude than I had originally planned.

“Yes. Play,” he sneered.

I stirred my drink. “Let me get this straight. I’m offering to fly her out in a private jet, feed her dinner at one of the best restaurants in the city, and put her front row at a concert that has been sold out for over a year. That doesn’t seem like a play to me. It sounds like I’m trying to do something nice for a woman I was rude to earlier.” I casually leaned back in my seat. “My conscience doesn’t ‘play’ when it comes to apologies.”

“Right. Well, maybe you should have a chat with your conscience, because she looks like she just won the date of a lifetime. Meanwhile, you don’t even like women.” He stalled, no doubt looking for just the right word to express his disgust without sounding like a bigot. Judging by his gentleness when we’d taken off, he wasn’t the type of guy to go for the fag bomb.

I watched him intently, excited to see how he was going to handle this.

“You’re gay.”

I frowned at his lack of creativity. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. But I’ll have you know I love women.”

It wasn’t a lie. I adored women. Especially Levee and Robin.

I just didn’t like pussy. Meh. Semantics.

He gaped. “You’re bi?”

“And I’ll repeat: None of your damn business. But yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”

Again, it wasn’t necessarily a lie.

Was I bisexual? Fuck no. My cock was in no way an equal opportunity employer.

I was somewhat bilingual though. I knew how to ask for a blow job in English and Spanish. I pretended that was what he meant.

Chupame la verga.




About the Author:
Aly Martinez
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.



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Title: Moonshot
Author: Alessandra Torre
Genre: Romantic Suspense/Sports Romance
Release: July 4th
Cover Artist: Sommer Stein with Perfect Pear Creations
Model: McKinli Hatch
Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography

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Synopsis:

Baseball isn’t supposed to be a game of life and death…

The summer that Chase Stern entered my life, I was seventeen. The daughter of a legend, the Yankees were my family, their stadium my home, their dugout my workplace. My focus was on the game. Chase … he started out as a distraction. A distraction with sex appeal poured into every inch of his six foot frame. A distraction who played like a god and partied like a devil.
I tried to stay away. I couldn’t.

Then, the team started losing.

Women started dying.

And everything in my world broke apart.


MOONSHOT WEBSITE CLICK LINK TO VIEW
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Alessandra Torre is an award-winning New York Times bestselling author of eleven novels. Her books focus on romance and suspense, all with a strong undercurrent of sexuality. Torre has been featured in such publications as Elle and Elle UK, co-hosted Dirty Sexy Funny with Jenny McCarthy, as well as guest blogged for the Huffington Post and RT Book Reviews. She is also the Bedroom Blogger for Cosmopolitan.com.

You can learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com, or you can find her on Twitter (@ReadAlessandra) or Facebook.

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How many times can someone be forgiven? How long does it take for a man to change? What if the person you're married to isn't who you're in love with anymore? What if infidelities have caused a person to lose trust and hope in their relationship? I don't recognize the woman I've become. I'm bored. Lonely. Unsatisfied. Weak. It's crippling me. After seven years of marriage I'm throwing in the towel and starting over. Bennington Winthrop is my boss. He's made it clear he wants me. When I think my life can't get more complicated I become involved in a sexual relationship that both terrifies and excites me. I can't resist the pleasure, or the pain he gives me. I need to feel something again, even if I get lost along the way. I have to decide if his lifestyle is the change I'm looking for or something I need to run from and never look back. I'm Macy Stone, and this is how I let go of the woman I used to be in order to discover hidden desires I never knew could exist. My only obstacle now is coming to terms with the consequences, and being able to accept who I've become.  





 





Jennifer Foor is an award winning Contemporary Romance Author. She's best known for the Mitchell Family Series, which includes ten books.


She is married with two children and spends most of her time behind a keyboard, writing stories that come from her heart.