RELEASE BOOST- In the End by Ariadne Wayne

 

 

Title: In the End
Series: Lifetime #3
Author: Ariadne Wayne
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 20, 2017
Blurb
The time has come for Finn to find out the truth about his father. When he seems to take it in his stride, Matt, Ella, and Sam are relieved. But nothing’s that simple when you’re seven years old.

Sam’s love life has been on hold while he gets to know his son. Meeting single mother, Natasha, rocks his world. She’s not had an easy life and he has to navigate through her past to make her see a future. The one thing that scares her, Sam’s guilty of. Love’s never easy, especially when there are secrets involved.

The last book in the Lifetime series features a boy finding out about his father, a father falling in love, and the last wedding you’d ever expect on the farm.

 

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AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Author Bio
Ariadne Wayne is the alter ego of Wendy Smith. She loves books and lives in Auckland, New Zealand with her husband and two children. Having always had a prolific imagination she now writes the words down instead of storing them in her head where she can’t share them. When she’s not writing she works in Telecommunications, frequently banging her head on the desk with the random things that can happen to the ordinary phone line.

 

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RELEASE BOOST- Lone Cougar by Nicole Lake

 

Title: Lone Cougar
Series: Solo Shift #2
Author: Nicole Lake
Genre: Shifter Romance
Release Date: April 24, 2017

 

Blurb

Sam:I didn’t particularly care for Ryan when he showed up for his first massage. And I don’t particularly care for him now, even if he’s the hottest thing in Green Holler. Especially because he’s the hottest thing in Green Holler.

He reminds me of every player I met in high school and college, he travels constantly because of his work, and I’m sure he’s got a girl in every airport. And his work? He’s the guy Dad hired for advice on expanding his art store, and I can just see him changing it into McArts or something cheesy.

Not that I’m looking for a man anyway. I don’t ask for much. Just a man who’s not a complete jerk, doesn’t mind living out here in the middle of the Ozarks, and won’t freak out when he discovers that shifting’s real and his girlfriend’s an owl shifter.

And Ryan’s not that man. Right?

Ryan:

The woman at the B&B’s trying to get me to date Sam–short for Samantha, she’s careful to point out. Not going to happen, even if Sam’s the most beautiful woman I’ve seen. For one thing, there’s plenty of beautiful women out there, but not enough damn-good massage therapists like Sam. On top of that, her dad’s my client, and that mixture of business and pleasure is a bad idea.

Why would anyone give up their big-city dreams, go back home to this Ozark tourist trap–sorry, I mean “this quaint Ozark town”–and hang up a shingle as a massage therapist, even a damn good one? I don’t get it, but I can’t afford to settle down like she did. With all the consulting gigs I do, I’ve got to stay on the road all the time.

Besides, when I’m on the road, no one can get close enough to find out about my cougar, and I can have a good time any night I want, anywhere I want, with almost any woman I want, with no commitments.

I’m not scared of commitment, but what woman’s going to commit to a guy who’s also occasionally a cougar? Certainly not Sam.

———————-

Imagine yourself as a shifter alone in a world that doesn’t know shifting exists.

This is the Solo Shift world: no packs, no guidance, no mates, and no prospects until chance, luck, trust, and love all intervene.

What can you expect from a Solo Shift book? A standalone story with lonely shifters, shifters who don’t know they’re lonely, love scenes, and no cheating. And at least one HEA, sometimes more.

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Free in Kindle Unlimited
Excerpt
Heard the front door
quietly open a little before Mrs. Webb’s session ended, so I figured my 4:30
had arrived. I tried to keep my focus on Mrs. Webb, but the planning-ahead part
of my brain promptly kicked in. 4:30’s
name is Ryan… Bishop. Ryan Bishop. Heh, wonder if Connie’s gonna text to bug me
about him in the middle of the massage, or if she’ll at least wait until he’s
off the table. Connie’s got John so she’s got pretty good taste in husband
material, but I wonder what her definition of “hot” is
.
“OK, Mrs. Webb, I’ll
be outside; just come on out whenever you’re ready, OK?” I have to help a few
of my clients off the table, but Mrs. Webb’s as spry as they come.
“That’s fine, dearie!”
With the clientele
I’ve got, I’m “dearie” to several clients!
I step out and close
the massage room door behind me, and I see him checking out my diploma and
certs.
Holy…
Tall.
Brown hair.
Beard and mustache.
Muscles.
Not a body-builder,
but muscles.
And nice fitting
clothes. Definitely not a slob, definitely not a blob.
Note to self: never,
ever question Connie Martin’s taste in men again. This guy was hot.
And he knew it. Matter
of fact, he looked like he left a long trail of women who knew it too.
C’mon, Sam, this ain’t
high school, this is your office. Time to be professional. Time to use your
waiting-room massage therapist voice, the one somewhere between your outside
voice and your calm, soothing, table-side voice. “Hello, are you Ryan?”
“Yeah—Samantha,
right?” Oooh, deep voice, amazing smile, dark eyes…
Get it together, Sam.
Act like you know what you’re doing. Friendly but professional smile, nod your
head, shake his hand, there you go. “Sam’s fine, thanks!”
And that’s when he
nods toward the diploma. “Who’d you have for Micro?”
Crap. Should I know
him?

 

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Author Bio
Secret shifter romance novels. Secret shifter romance
novelist.
 
Wife of an IT geek—his words, not mine! Mother of two
kids, two cats, and two dogs. Incurable romantic.
 
What do I want in my romance stories? Men who aren’t
total asses. Women who avoid total asses—either from experience, or by being
smart enough to avoid them in the first place! Men who survive just fine
without a woman. Women who survive just fine without a man. Men and women smart
enough to know the perils of jumping into love, and brave enough to do it
anyway. And of course, a happily-ever-after!
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RELEASE BOOST- Tempting Justice by Fiona Archer

 

 

Title: Tempting Justice
Series: Sons of Sydney #2
Authors: Fiona Archer
Genre: Erotic Romance/Romantic Suspense
 Release Date: April 18, 2017
Blurb
He’s
sworn to uphold the law
His reckless behavior as a child caused the deaths of his entire
family. On the lonely Sydney streets, the orphan found friends. Found
“brothers.” Never again will Seattle Homicide Detective Heath Justice break the
rules and risk his new family. Order and discipline govern his life…until he
meets a curvaceous redhead. With two ugly murder cases to solve, the last thing
he needs is this disconcertingly lovely, whirlwind of chaos, yet…charmed by her
wit and intelligence, Heath can’t resist.
She
believes rules are meant to be broken
Deep into writing a murder mystery, author London Shaw is shocked when
she herself is implicated in a homicide. She can’t believe the
ever-so-authoritarian Detective Heath Justice expects her to simply ignore the
crime and go on about her business. Not happening.  Although the man’s whiskey rough voice,
cuffs, and masterful touch could melt any woman’s resistance—and does—she has a
craving to do a little investigating herself.
When all
or nothing is your only play
When Heath’s murder investigation threatens a far-reaching conspiracy,
everyone he cares for becomes their target—including the woman he’s come to
love.
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Excerpt
Heath had grabbed the flask from the SUV’s back seat when he glimpsed a figure through the rear window. A woman, wearing a blue hoodie and black sweatpants walked to the edge of Derek’s driveway and gazed at the house’s front door. A few seconds later, she began walking swiftly down the driveway, constantly checking the front door.Was she worried about being seen? A possible intruder?

Since he’d parked closer to the house further on from Derek’s parents’ property, the woman hadn’t spotted him. Heath replaced the flask on the backseat and gently pushed the back passenger door nearly closed. He waited until she had disappeared behind the side of the house before following.

Careful not to make noise, he followed the woman down the driveway and watched as she stopped in front of a side door to the garage, which was separate from the house. With her back to Heath, she pulled something from her pocket and tried to jimmy the door’s lock.

The woman glanced toward the back of the house, likely checking to see if she’d been spotted, then continued her efforts with the lock. A soft hiss and a “dammit” indicated her efforts were unsuccessful.

Heath also couldn’t miss the curvy shape of her figure outlined so well by the soft black material hugging her gorgeous arse. One shown off to perfection as she bent to look closer at the lock.

A tiny squeak of joy, followed by her opening the door, signaled the possible intruder had crossed a line. It seemed such a shame to stop his fun. Nevertheless, duty called…

Heath pulled out his 9mm from his shoulder holster and held it out in front of him as he moved forward. “Police! Put your hands on your head and step away from the door.”

The woman let out a high squeak, dropped the lock pick, and spun around, eyes wide. Her mouth formed an “O” at the sight of his weapon. “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness.” She covered her mouth with both hands before waving them in front of her, palms facing Heath. “It’s not what you think. Honestly.” Her gaze snapped to her left in the direction of the back of the house as if she expected someone to come out any moment.

“I said, hands on your head.” Heath commanded, satisfied when the woman immediately obeyed. “Come forward, turn around, and face the garage door.” He saw her close her eyes in defeat before she obeyed. Heath grabbed his cuffs and shoved his weapon back in the holster. With efficient moves, he had her wrists secured behind her.

“Officer, I can explain.” She sighed. “I mean, I know everyone says that, but really, nothing illegal’s happening here.”

“Good to know.” He pulled her jacket’s hood from her head. Red hair. No, the description didn’t do the color justice, but he only knew guyspeak, which would have to suffice to explain the bursts of deeper red in amongst the lighter strands, all held in a ponytail.

Heath patted down his suspect. No weapons. And he’d have to be dead not to notice the way his hands fit over her hips, the roundness of her arse. He wasn’t a sleaze, not by any means, but he appreciated a woman’s body like any man.

Taking her arm in a firm grip, he turned his suspect around.

Green eyes framed with long, thick lashes blinked up at him. “When I say nothing illegal, I mean it depends on your point of view.”

“My point of view is as a cop, which doesn’t leave a lot of leeway on a range of subjects.”

She frowned at him, as if he was being unreasonable. “That’s a rather rigid stance. Not everything is black and white.”

Heath wasn’t prepared to debate the point. “Your disappointment is noted. Now—”

“Hey, I’m sure you’re a busy guy. And, uh,”—she licked her lips—“you need to go protect the community. That’s an important role. Absolutely. So, you know—” She broke off. “Shoo. Anyway, we can put a line under this and start the day over.”

Despite her opinion of his so-called inflexible outlook on life, he couldn’t help answering. “We can, huh?”

“Totally.” She nodded, sending her ponytail bobbing.

Keeping hold of her arm, Heath looked down at her black canvas tennis shoes to hide his mouth twitching.

It was a safe bet the young woman wasn’t a hardened criminal. But whatever the hell she was up to, he aimed to find out. First he needed to phone Derek.

“Do you know the owners of this house?”

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew huge in her face. “You don’t have to get them,” she rushed out.

“Oh, but I do.” He went to pull out his phone from his back pocket, and the woman jerked against his grip. She would have toppled over if not for him keeping his hold.

Oh, no, sweetheart.

He tightened his grip, reinforcing her captivity and moved closer, towering over her. “Lady, you could have hurt yourself.” The safety of suspects was important, and the thought of the little redhead causing herself harm propelled his alpha instincts center stage. “Resist once more, and I’ll use my belt to hogtie you.”

She drew in a sharp breath. What he didn’t see was fear. Not in her eyes or the way a blush stained the cool-toned white skin of her face. And swear to God, he felt her body soften against him.

An image of her hogtied flashed through his mind. Only she wouldn’t be in this driveway, but in his bed. Lying on his sheets. Her glorious long red hair spread over his pillow.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Heath looked over his shoulder. Derek stood at the side of the house, his hands jammed on his hips.

Dammit,” came from his suspect.

A look best described as misery—from the closed eyes and turned down mouth—covered her face.

“I caught a suspect attempting to break into your parents’ garage.”

Derek gave a dry laugh. “I’ve no doubt she’s up to something, but that’s no suspect.” He strode up the driveway, his frown reserved for the woman at Heath’s side. “Meet London, my baby sister.”

Heath swung his gaze to…Derek’s sister?

Those eyes, so wide and shocked before, were now narrowed with the promise of rebellion, even as she stood there—in his cuffs.

Ah. So bravado was her chosen defense.

Heath remembered the sweet color of her blush at his earlier threat of hogtying her.

Lightning might strike him down any second, but the woman intrigued him, even knowing she was Derek’s sister. The knowledge he didn’t have to call for a cruiser to take her to booking added a new dimension to the proceedings. Anticipation flowed through Heath. He was going to enjoy this visit, and for way more than pancakes.

Time for his prisoner to confess all.

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Author Bio
Fiona Archer writes erotic romance filled with masterful Aussie alpha heroes and teams them with sassy heroines who limit their submissive side to the bedroom. She lives in sunny environs of Sydney, Australia, and is harassed by a flock of wild cockatoos that take over the back yard each afternoon, demanding their feed. Her favorite hobbies include watching Nathan Fillion on television, shopping for that ever-elusive perfect shade of lipstick, and drinking iced coffee.
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RELEASE BOOST- Fox by S.M. Lumetta

 

 

Title: Fox
Author: S.M. Lumetta
Series: Bodhi Beach #1 (Standalone)
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: S.M. Lumetta
Release Date: April 17, 2017
Blurb

What’s a little sex between friends?Sophie Fordham never thought much about motherhood until her body forced her to. With the onset of early menopause, she knows if she wants to have a baby, it’s now or never. So what’s a single, financially-strapped girl to do? Go with what you know, of course.

Fox Monkhouse has been Sophie’s gorgeous best friend since preschool. This sun-kissed surfer boy has no shortage of ladies, but she’s hoping he’ll put that aside to help her out. As there’s never been anything romantic between the two, things get awkward when she asks him to put a bun in her oven—especially since it has to be done the old-fashioned, no-pants dance way.

When Fox agrees to do the deed, Sophie is ecstatic. But she soon realizes that this chance at a baby could cost her everything. Keeping sex and emotions separate is clearly not in her wheelhouse especially when her best friend is involved. If their relationship can’t evolve into something new, their unusual arrangement could destroy the friendship of a lifetime.

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Excerpt
Chapter 1
The Diagnosis: “It’s menopause.”
Laughing. All the laughing. Until Doctor Beaufort looks at me like I’ve cracked. I stop myself and swallow. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘it’s menopause’?”
“Sophie, your symptoms and test results point to perimenopause. Your estrogen levels have been a little all over the place, and with your erratic cycle, it’s extremely likely that early menopause has begun.”
I’m glad I’m not drinking or eating because I would have choked. Oh, scratch that—I’m choking on my own spit. It’s so great that I don’t even need to put anything in my mouth to choke.
The studio audience in my head reacts on cue, complete with cheering and lewd gestures.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, my throat on fire as I cough roughly. I sound like a veteran smoker. Or maybe even like I’ve moved past that into voice box territory.
My doctor finally notices my insta-panic and waves her hands in front of her face. “That is to say it could be.”
I gasp, hacking up a lung for good measure and in hoping I heard her wrong. “But… I’m twenty-eight.”
This is where the audience supports my outrage with a sharp gasp followed by a dead silence.
Doctor Beaufort smiles, her teeth blindingly white next to her dark skin, but it does not comfort me. “I’m aware of your age,” she says with humor. “But I’m pretty sure this is premature menopause. It can hit women as young as their early twenties, though it’s rare.”
I stare at her, my mouth agape but still trying to form a word or two. All that comes out, though, is “buh buh buh… buhhh.”
For all the erratic and weird symptoms for the past six, maybe eight months, I never even considered this a possibility. Ever since I dumped that life-suck Brett, I blamed everything—from cycle woes to crazy unusual mood swings and a bout or three of awful night sweats—on stress and the breakup. Though the first missed period caused a different kind of nightmare. Or as my best friend Nora put it, The Pregnancy Panic Heard ’Round the World.
Dr. Beaufort is talking, but my brain is white noise. I’m forced to shake my head a bit to tune back in.
“Twenty-eight is certainly not common either but it’s not unheard of,” she continues, oblivious to my dumbstruck noises—or maybe because of them. “And it’s not immediate. As you probably know, menopause itself is a process. It can take years to complete itself. So you may still have time to have a child if that’s in your life plan! Many women going through menopause have a ‘oops’ baby.”
“Baby?” I ask, and I sound like I’ve never heard of them. I flash back to The Scare and for a quick second, wonder if that wouldn’t have been a blessing. Jesus, no. Then I’d be attached to Brett forever. I shudder. My credit score is still in the toilet because of him. That’s more than enough of a legacy and intrusion on my life.
My resulting silence stretches out before the both of us, but not because I have nothing to say or ask. It’s mostly because I find that I cannot speak.
“Sophie?” Dr. B begins, and I think she asks me a question, but it sounds like I’m underwater.
I have sudden trouble focusing and feel my body sway. The room leans into a cartwheel and everything goes black.
***
When I wake, I’m happy to find I did not, in fact, fall off the “spread and swipe” table after all. However, a nurse holds my legs up toward the ceiling. Dr. Beaufort hands me a paper bag.
“I’m not hyperventilating, Dr. B,” I murmur, pushing the bag away. I sound drunk. Great. Maybe I had a stroke, too? That would be a tasty cherry on top of this shit sundae. “I choked and then I freaked out.”
I’m well aware of my dramatic tendencies. At times. Occasionally. When it suits me.
“You passed out,” she says simply, no judgment. “Do you feel light-headed?”
I do a mental check. “I’m good.” Sitting up slowly and with assistance, I notice the nurse is my oldest friend in the world, Fox Monkhouse.
“What the fuck?” I try to kick him, but it comes across like the death throes of an extremely long, uncoordinated fish. “I’m commando, Fox! Shouldn’t there be a female nurse in here?”
The attempted kick seems even more foolish now. I pull my hospital gown tight in the back and slap my thighs together to hide my cooter.
“Mr. Monkhouse was just outside when you fainted. And he has a master’s in nursing,” Dr. B adds, unaware that I’m familiar with his qualifications. Even so, that doesn’t mean I want him all up in my lady biz. “He’s a professional.”
“Yeah, but a professional what is debatable,” I say.
He breaks into a huge grin.
Jerk. “What are you even doing here? You work at Shoreline!”
Fox rubs the corner of his eye with his middle finger. “Same hospital network,” he says, faux professionalism oozing everywhere. “They needed a floater today.” He makes an incredibly immature face behind Dr. Beaufort’s back as I try desperately not to crack up at “floater.” His immaturity rubs off too often for my own good. A few instances of which flit through my mind. The facial expressions that result are likely horrifying. I’m glad I cannot see my face right now.
“Are you all right, Sophie?” she asks, looking at me with concern. “I take it you and Fox are friends.”
I fake a cough and clear my throat. “Fine. And yes, I guess you could say we’re friends.”
Fox snorts, tucking a stray sun-kissed curl behind his ear. The rest of his shoulder-length blond hair is tied back. “I’ve known Sophie since we were… I’m not sure, five?”
“Four,” I correct, just to be a bitch. He rolls his eyes, and I smile. “When my family moved in down the block, I hadn’t started preschool yet.”
“Oh, right. We bonded over the ice-cream man.”
“Rocket Pops.”
“Ohh,” he moans, damn near orgasmically. Dr. Beaufort shoots him a look, but he’s not paying attention. “I loved those.”
“It’s basically frozen sugar and food coloring,” Dr. B throws in her two cents. “It’s—”
“Don’t crap on my childhood, Beaufort,” he snaps jokingly, but realizes his place with an “oh shit” expression. “I mean, yes, doctor. Sorry. Yes, of course. You are totally correct.”
The idiot pauses to clear his throat. I catch Dr. B minutely shake her head in what I assume is exasperation. I completely understand where she’s coming from. After an awkward beat, he picks up where he left off.
“Anyway, Sophie wouldn’t go to school unless I was in the same class. She needed me.”
“He was held back,” I add. “Started preschool at seven.”
Fox coughs, “Asshole!”
Dr. B rolls her eyes before looking at me. “I stand corrected on the professionalism. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m good, Dr. B,” Fox says.
“I’m okay,” I say at the same time. At least, I’m okay where the fainting is concerned. The rest is still pretty sketchy.
“Good,” she says, eyeballing Fox with a sliver of a smile on her face. She pats me on the shoulder and tells me to get dressed. “We can chat more in my office before you go. Mr. Monkhouse, let the patient dress, please?”
“I will,” he says with a nod. She smiles as she walks out.
“Did you sleep with her? Or are you trying?” I ask him.
“I don’t shit where I eat,” he says.
“Oh, really?” My eyebrows jump for my hairline as my eyes drill into him my blatant disbelief.
“She’s twenty years older than me!”
I tilt my head, waiting. He’s holding out. He knows damn well he’s nailed a colleague or two well into their forties. Such as… “Rita?”
His mouth drops open, his dual-colored eyes going wide. Thanks to his scrubs, the green one shifts to blue-green or turquoise like the ocean and the hazel one looks golden. I still marvel at how strange yet beautiful they are.
“Wow, pulling out the stops,” he says. “Fine, I have cleaned up on the nurse aisle before, and a couple docs, but I’ve learned my lesson. It gets ugly.” He opens the door and stops. “Get dressed.”
I wait for him to close the door behind him before I peel off the gown and put on my clothes.
“Why’d you faint?” he asks when I get out into the hall. He’d clearly waited just outside.
I lightly punch his arm, noting a slight sunburn on his nose. Someone went surfing this morning and forgot his sunblock. “Don’t you have actual work to do, stalker?”
“Not at this very moment.” He looks around. “So what’s up? Are you okay?”
“Low blood sugar,” I lie. It feels gross, especially given his sincerity. I never lie to my best friends. “Forgot to eat this morning.”
“Forgetting to eat? That’s not like you.” Likely sensing my bullshit, he steps a little closer. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
I’m warmed by his concern, but I’m not yet ready to discuss anything. Time to redirect.
“Are you calling me fat, Monkhouse?” I like giving him shit. Not to mention, I’m quite comfortable in my own skin. At five foot nine, I’m pretty lanky with the exception of a bit of a bubble butt that popped out when I was in college.
“Always, Porky.”
An elderly woman walks by at that very moment. She stops to spit at him and expresses her extreme outrage on my behalf. “Horrible man! You want me to crush his man business?” she asks me, holding up her cane, which has flames painted on it.
“Um,” I stammer. I pretend to think about it while Fox’s eyes grow wide.
He purses his lips as if to say, “be serious!”
I turn back to my savior. “That’s very tempting, thank you. But I’m okay.”
“You’re sure?” Harley Quinn’s grandma doesn’t buy it, and is clearly looking to dole out a beatdown. Maybe she got bad news today, too.
“Totally.” Leaning toward her, I cup a hand by my mouth to offer an aside. “I have it on excellent authority that his dangle isn’t exactly swinging in the breeze, if you know what I mean.”
She nods knowingly and threatens Fox with her badass cane one more time before walking away.
“Wow,” I say after she turns the corner. “That was like tenth grade all over again.”
In high school, I struggled to keep on weight because my metabolism was pretty high. Some incredibly rude people called me “Rexy,” so Fox would call me “Chubs” in protest. He got in loads of trouble because the perceptive teachers of Bodhi Beach High assumed I was, in fact, anorexic and Fox was bullying me. Since the actual name-callers were girls, that slipped right under their radar. Fox, however, was loud and proud about it. It was a hell of a mess, but in the end, it was just my friend sticking up for me in his own poorly thought-out, controversial way, as per usual.
“I’ve never been threatened with the official cane of the Hells Angels before,” he says, wiping the spit off his scrubs.
“Go back to work,” I say with a giggle. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“You coming to the barbecue this Saturday?” he calls after me. “It’s my birthday, you know.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, old timer. Is the bonfire going to be legal this time?” I wink. Fox’s house is on the beach. It was his grandpa’s and he inherited it, the lucky prick.
“Of course not!” He rethinks his volume. “I mean, yes. Yes, it is. Bring beer. Oh, and is your brother coming?” he asks.
“You know, I haven’t talked to Cameron in a few. Seems like he’s been a little incommunicado, according to my mom. I don’t see how he’d miss it though.”
Fox nods. “Well, I hope he can make it! Tell him to come in drag because I want to motorboat him again. I don’t know where he got those falsies, but they were super comfortable to stick my face in.”
I perform the expected eye-roll followed by an about-face toward Dr. Beaufort’s office. “See you then, perv,” I call.
“Takes one to know one!”
***
After a more in-depth conversation with Dr. B, I’m not very good anymore. I may only have one good year of fertility if I want to conceive a baby without assistance. Or I could have five years, maybe more, but even that’s hard to say. Menopause is not only hard to predict, but makes my cycle erratic, which heavily lends to the odds against me. I thought I wanted kids but I’m hella single at present. It’s been eight months since I dumped Brett, and after that debacle, the “do I want kids” question is, well, questionable. With my new and the-opposite-of-improved timeline, I’m forced to address an issue I should have had more than a decade to consider.
Freezing some eggs is supposedly a legit option as I’m otherwise healthy and a good candidate for it. “But I wouldn’t wait,” Dr. B had said, stressing the point that I might not have very long to decide. “Think about it. You have a little time, but don’t think too long. Before you know it, it could be too late.”
I told her I didn’t have to think. I don’t have tens of thousands of dollars to plunk down on iced egg-os. Thanks to Brett’s bullshit and my stupid trusting heart, I loaned him the money to start his deejay business. I blame blind lust.
I ended up charging a bunch of stuff, which the imbecile sold for cash to blow at the bookie’s. Turned out, he didn’t want to start a business, just further a secret gambling habit. My credit took a nosedive along with our relationship. I’m still wading out of the debt he helped create and I have no money left to take out a hit. Where’s the justice?
I have my grandma’s 1967 Mustang convertible that’s worth a little money, but she’s not all original or in the greatest shape. I’d also need much deeper, unindebted pockets to pay for the work needed to make her a showstopper. I can’t imagine parting with it to pay shit off for my stupidity.
With all this on my shoulders, I sit in my not-very-cherry classic Mustang convertible in the parking garage and cry. And cry. And cry until I’m thoroughly dehydrated and have a mark from the steering wheel on my forehead. The setting sun is piercing directly through the structure when I come up for air.
It’s well past rush hour, and there shouldn’t be much in the way of gridlock left on the 405. So there’s that.
Author Bio
S.M. Lumetta was born in Detroit, MI, and now resides in NYC. Since she was small, she has adored storytelling in all its forms, especially books and films. Sooner and later, she figured out that since her love of words was overwhelming, she had no choice but to take the words in mind and share them. Romance is her favorite read, but horror and crime novels are a close second. She loves to travel and has a bucket list of places to visit long enough for several lifetimes. She also has a plethora of unnecessary t-shirts, a penchant for sarcasm, and a unholy love for the oxford comma.
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RELEASE BOOST- Fallen Crest Home by Tijan

 

Title: Fallen Crest Home
Series: Fallen Crest #6
Author: Tijan
Genre: Young Adult/New Adult/Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 17, 2017
Blurb

It’s been years since my mother was in my life.

I healed.

I learned to accept love.

I lived.

That’s all done. She was away, and now she’s back.

I’ve avoided her for a year and a half, but I can’t hide anymore.

Mason has an internship in Fallen Crest, so we’re heading back for the summer.

And when we got there—no one was prepared for what happened.

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Excerpt

My hand cradled the back of his neck, holding him prisoner.I didn’t want him to look away, to move away.

I wanted him inside of me.

His eyes darkened and as if reading my mind, he moved back to pull his pants off. After grabbing a condom, and pulling it on, he came back and settled between my legs.

My arms went back around him, like returning to their home.

“Sam,” he murmured, tracing a finger down the side of my face. He tucked some hair behind my ear, and then I felt his lips against mine again.

Yes. Home.

That’s what this was.

I groaned, my head falling back, and I felt his soft chuckle against my skin, but then he reached down and shifted, lifting my leg until I wound it around his waist. He dipped in, shifting, and I felt him at my entrance. He paused, then slid inside.

My eyes closed and I relished the feel of him in me.

He began moving, thrusting inside of me.

As he kept going, and he slid his hands up my arms to capture my hands, I opened my eyes. We were staring back at each other, watching each other. I could feel him reaching inside of me, searching, claiming me. Everything in my body yearned for him, yearned for more. I wanted more. I needed more.

The second he touched me, everything blared alive. I was awakened. Always.

In and out. Mason kept thrusting.

My fingers clamped down over his, sinking deep as his pace quickened.

“Mason,” I gasped. Weak. His onslaught kept going, harder, faster. “I love you.”

He groaned, climaxing, and his body clenched as he thrust into me a last time. It sent me hurdling over the edge, and I wrapped both arms around his neck, hanging on.

A moment later, he brushed a soft kiss on my forehead before he slipped out.

I still lay beneath him.

I didn’t want to move.

I didn’t want him to move, and eventually, we slept like that.

 
I woke later, but I was still in his arms. He was curled up behind me, and I went back to sleep again. All the doubts and questions would be there tomorrow. 

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Start the series with Fallen Crest High
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HATE TO LOVE YOU
Releasing Fall 2017
Author Bio
Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side. Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others. She is currently writing Fallen Crest Seven (untitled) along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.

 

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RELEASE BOOST- Turning Back by JA Huss

 

 

Title: Turning Back
Series: Turning #2
Author: JA Huss
Genre: Dark Erotic Suspense
Release Date: April 12, 2017
Blurb
I lived in the dark for three years. My whole world revolved
around the whims and happiness of three men. It was just a trip into the
forbidden. A way out of a bad situation and forward into nothingness.
Quin, with his easy smile and charming good looks. He was
always there for me… Until he wasn’t.
Smith, and his dispassionate attention. He was never there
for me and he never regretted it.
Bric, the one who listened, but only to himself.
Self-absorbed, self-obsessed, and self-serving. He was never the one I wanted.
And now he might be the only one I have left.
It was good while it lasted, I guess. But it could’ve been
so much more. It could’ve been so much better. 
And that’s why I’m turning back.

 

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Excerpt

“So then
what happened?” Bric asks.
We’re
sitting at our booth in the White Room. Before I left, I’d sit in the middle of
the bench, Quin would sit across from me in a chair, and Bric would sit to my
left.
Bric is
still to my left, Quin isn’t here yet—if he’s coming at all—and Adley is in her
baby seat on my right.
Everything
is familiar—but off.
“Then he
went to bed.”
“What’d you
do?”
“I sat
there on the couch for a while trying to figure out what happened.”
“What did
you come up with?” Bric is looking very intently at me. Like everything I’m
saying is critically important.
“He hate-fucked
me, that’s what I came up with, Bric!”
“Rochelle,”
Bric says, throwing me one of those Don’t overreact looks.
“I’m
serious. There’s no other explanation for it. He hate-fucked me. Revenge fuck.
Whatever you want to call it. That’s what happened last night.” I sigh and try
not to feel depressed and sad. “And then this morning I got out of bed to go
check on Adley when she woke up, and when I came back, he was gone.”
“Gone?”
Bric asks. “Where’d he go?”
“Just
left,” I say. “I texted him. Asked if he’d be here for breakfast. And he never
texted back.”
“He’s just
mad,” Bric says.
“I know.” I
huff. “He told me that last night too. He spelled it out very clearly. He was
worried about me. Sad about my leaving. But then when I came back—”
“Now he’s
just angry.”
“Right.”
“It’s a
pretty typical reaction,” Bric says.
“I realize
that. Which is why I’m not going to make a big deal about this. But I don’t
know if this is going to work, Bric. He might not want me. He might just want
to hurt me. Exactly the way I hurt him.”
“No,” Bric
says, like I’m being ridiculous.
“I’m not
being ridiculous,” I say. “Maybe he’s not out to hurt me. But he’s doing
something, Bric. He’s playing a game, but I’m pretty sure we’re not all playing
the same game.”
“He’s mad,
Rochelle. You have to expect that. He’s gonna come around.”
“What does
that mean? Come around? Do you really think he’s gonna fall back in love with
me the way he was? Because I don’t. I think he’s here for us. Me, you, and him together. And that’s all.”
Bric rubs
his hand across his scratchy jaw as he thinks this over, so I check on Adley.
She fell asleep in the car on the way over here and hasn’t woken up yet. Bric
is still thinking.
“I don’t
want an us, Bric.”
He looks me
in the eye and says. “I do. But I get it. And I’m fine with you and Quin
getting your little happy ending. But I’m telling you, Rochelle, he’s just
trying to protect himself right now and the best way to let him work that out
and ensure you two get back together is to have an us.”
“He said he
doesn’t trust me.”
“He has a
good reason,” Bric counters.
“I know
that,” I say, starting to get angry. “I understand that. But the whole point of
us doing this… game… or whatever it is, was so that you can help me figure this
out. I want him, Bric. You’re supposed to help me.”
But as soon
as the words come out of my mouth I realize how stupid that is. I trust no one
and I have very good reasons for that. I’ve learned over the course of my life
that people are selfish. People are out for themselves. People are liars. I
have a lot of experience in being lied to.
Elias
Bricman definitely fits all those assumptions I have about people. And then
some.
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Releasing July 4, 2017

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Author Bio
JA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.

 

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RELEASE BOOST- The Banker by Piper Rayne

 

 

Title: The Banker
Series: Modern Love #3
Author: Piper Rayne
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: April 5, 2017


Blurb
Who knew my brother’s friend could be Mr.
Right, and not just Mr. Right Now?
 
My brother refused to introduce me, so I blame him. If he’d just
caved, and introduced me to Jasper, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I mean, really,
what’s the big deal? I’m not interested in the guy’s looks. 
Oh no, I want his cold hard cash. (Be honest, you were expecting
that other four letter ‘c’ word weren’t you?) 
Now, before you go getting all judgy, I’m not a gold digger. I
have a legitimate business opportunity for Jasper to invest in. The problem is
that my stick-up-his-ass brother is embarrassed that his twin sister invents
kick ass sex toys. His problem, not mine. 
So, I took matters into my own hands. Defeat isn’t a word in
Lennon Hart’s dictionary. 
Using my stealthy P.I. moves, I narrowed my search to a time and
place where I knew I could find him. It was completely innocent. A chance
meeting that would give me the opportunity to pitch my business. 
It wasn’t until I sat down across from the gorgeous panty soaking
man in front of me, that I realized I wanted so much more than just his money.
I could very well want his heart if I wasn’t careful. 
Apparently my P.I. skills aren’t as stellar as I thought because
Jasper had his own secret—and it changed EVERYTHING. 

 

 

 

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Author Bio

 

Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two established authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?


We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We’re both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We’re both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.

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