Tuesday, December 5, 2017

#KindleCountdown Sale Touching Frost by Leigh Harde

I was compensated via Fiverr for sharing this post. I only share those books that I feel my readers will enjoy. Included within the post are also affiliate links. When clicked on, I may earn a small commission to help support my websites.



Touching Frost

Twice Elijah Frost has escaped death only to be left horribly scarred. He never thought that anyone would be able to break though the frozen barriers he surrounded himself with until a pair of mismatched eyes ignited a flame that burned a path through his cold heart. In a post-apocalyptic world, will Elijah finally be able to let go of the past and embrace a new future filled with acceptance and love? This is a complete story with no cliffhangers.


http://amzn.to/2BJQxoC


Also available in the Crack in the Ice: Post-Apocalyptic Tales of Man-Love series:

Mounting Snow



Sharing Winter



Coming Together


Friday, November 17, 2017

Touch Me by Adele Knight

I was compensated for sharing this post via Fiverr, but I only share books that I think my readers will enjoy. Some of the links are affiliate links. If clicked on, I may earn a small commission to support my websites.


Touch Me

Avril has secretly wanted Luke for three long years, but he’s an egotistical player like her cheating ex. She’s determined to make him beg—but a seductive dance and a steamy cab ride push her to the brink of submission.

Luke know’s what Avril craves, and only he can give it to her. When he knocks on Avril’s Apartment door with an old boyfriend and promises to fulfill her most scandalous fantasies, Avril is impatient to start.

But the sight of two gorgeous men sends an uncomfortable feeling prickling up her spine. The fire boiling in her veins can’t be jealousy. She only wanted one thing from Luke, right...?

Avril wants to resist Luke’s charm, take what she wants, and walk away—but what if Luke doesn’t want to let her go?


Buy links


About Adele Knight

Adele Knight likes her red wine with chocolate and her sweet romances with lots of heat. Her spicy stories are a bedtime treat with enough spark to warm your sheets and alluring characters to make you beg for more.

When she’s not writing, Adele can be found lost in other fantasy worlds. Whether it’s a hairy beast and a talking candle-stick or black leather and heels, Adele loves her heroines feisty and her heroes irresistible.

Connect with her on Facebook

Monday, November 13, 2017

Read an excerpt from Dangerously Dark by C.J. Burright with Giveaway



Some of the links contained within this post are affiliate links. If clicked on, I may earn a small commission to support my websites.


New Adult Paranormal Romance
Date Published:  11/13/17

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Some call him Purgatory’s Missing Prince. Demon Master. Overlord of Shadows. Only one woman may call him hers.

A master of dreams, a failure at life…

After another botched career attempt, Quinn Carmichael escapes to a remote lodge for a weekend recharge, needing respite…especially from the nightmares that haunt even her days. When a wounded, sexy-as-sin stranger faceplants unconscious on her kitchen floor, there’s something disturbingly familiar about him—as in he’s the boy from her childhood dreams. Mr. Dark, Dangerous, and Diabolical may be the key to unlocking the mysteries of her past and future, and Quinn isn’t about to let the opportunity—or him—escape without a fight.

His time is running out…

Known as Purgatory’s Missing Prince, Zaire’s existence has been one of endless pain, torture, and loss. Resigned to his fate, his final goal is simple—rescue his nephew before succumbing to the deadly darkness inside him. But when a fateful misstep brings him face-to-face with the one woman who could have saved him once upon a dream—the one woman he treasures above all else—he battles to keep his distance before he destroys her, too. But he would gladly sell his soul for just one taste.

Love draws them together, destiny will tear them apart

With ruthless enemies closing in, Quinn and Zaire must fight to save each other and those they care for before it’s too late—even if it means they’re doomed to live apart forever.


Purchase Links


Excerpt

Quinn tossed the note on the coffee table and wrapped one hand around the warm ceramic mug, absently petting Wolfgang with the other. Dusk took over beyond the wall of windows, made darker by the blizzard. Falling snow hid the skirting tree line. Wind howled at the house corners and turned treetops into jerking puppets. The perfect meltdown location. No phones, no people, no problem. 
The lamp flickered and died, leaving her with only the dancing firelight, not that she minded. The power had lasted longer than she expected. Stoked fire, hot cider, and now she had a great excuse to procrastinate reading unhelpful flyers. She sipped her drink and wriggled back on the couch. 
Wolfgang launched off her lap, kicking papers everywhere and sloshing her drink. 
“Bad cat!” 
He scurried into the kitchen, out of sight. A distinct thud followed, which meant Wolfgang was up to no good. 
“I should’ve sent you off to the Nameless One.” Quinn shoved the remaining flyers aside and nabbed the flashlight from the end table. “You’d make an amazing hat, and there’d be enough fur left to make a stole, the perfect ensemble to compliment her plastic face.” 
She flicked on the flashlight and shuffled into the kitchen, ignoring how the light made all the shadows twist and scuttle on the walls and ceiling. Broken bones might bother her, but the dark never had. 
Wolfgang expectantly stood at the back door. He meowed, high and plaintive. Nothing looked out of place. Whatever had made the thud wasn’t in the kitchen. Maybe the wind had blown a loose branch against the house. 
“What, you’re a snow leopard now? There’s no fancy feline feast waiting out there for you.” 
Wolfgang rubbed his cheek against the doorframe, circled, and meowed again.Thud. The entire door shook. 
Quinn jumped. That was no branch. All the horror movies she loved to watch and ridicule flashed to mind, a lot less funny now. Alone in the woods. Killer storm. No electricity. No connection to the outside world. 
Wolfgang’s purr rumbled, and he slid his face over the jamb again. The noise hadn’t spooked him even a little, and animals always sensed evil. Wolfgang had had no problem detecting it in Molly. 
She squared her shoulders. No one would be roaming around in a blizzard. An animal had probably knocked the trashcan into the door, and a quick look would ease any worry. At the first glimpse of fur or fang—or red, glowing eyes—she’d go for the door slam. 
Pushing Wolfgang back with one foot, she cracked open the door. Wind exploded in, ripping the doorknob from her grip and firing snow and ice into her eyes. The door banged into the wall, and the storm’s full force rushed inside. Quinn scrambled for the knob and stopped, frozen by more than the sudden blast of cold. 
A man filled the entryway from threshold to frame, dark as the nightfall behind him. Steam drifted from his bare head. Frost coated his short, sable hair, and even in the flashlight beam, his complexion held an unhealthy blue-gray hue. One hand was anchored to the doorpost in a white-knuckled grip. The other brandished a wicked as sin knife. 
She shone the light on his face, and her stomach roller-coastered. Her demon. The one who’d haunted her nightmares years ago and then abruptly bailed, never to return. No matter what face he wore, his death-black, abysmal eyes were unforgettable. 
Or were her delusions returning with a vengeance? 
“Get out of my way.” His chest heaved, and he lurched forward, the knife pointed at her. His guttural words erased any suspicion that he might be another hallucination. He was too present, too solid to be anything but real.Merde. He was real.

About the Author

C.J Burright is a native Oregonian and refuses to leave. A member of Romance Writers of America and the Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal special interest chapter, while she has worked for years in a law office, she chooses to avoid writing legal thrillers (for now) and instead invades the world of urban fantasy, paranormal romance, or fantasy. C.J. also has her 4th Dan Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do and believes a story isn’t complete without at least one fight scene. Her meager spare time is spent working out, refueling with mochas, gardening, gorging on Assassin’s Creed, and rooting on the Seattle Mariners…always with music. She shares life with her husband, daughter, and a devoted cat herd.

Contact Links






Reading Addiction Blog Tours

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Read an excerpt from Master Me, Please by BJ Wane with Giveaway


This post contains affiliate links. When you click on them, I may earn a small commission to help support my websites. 

Master Me, Please

Krista Matthews thought nothing could be harder than losing her husband and Master to suicide until the man he’d entrusted her care to left her also. By the time Dr. Dax Hayes returned from an overseas, volunteer medical tour, she thought she was over his deflection and ready to re-immerse herself in the BDSM world she needed and missed so much without his help. One scene proved how wrong she was and after Master Dax’s timely rescue, she agrees to let him tutor her back into the lifestyle. She hadn’t counted on her growing feelings for the strict Dom or his refusal to take her over completely, like she craved.

Dr. Dax Hayes fell for Krista Matthews the minute he looked into her blue eyes and saw the sated, content look she shared with her husband, Dr. Kurt Matthews. He managed to keep his feelings and lust under control until his friend and colleague asked him to join him in gifting Krista with a menage for her birthday. Knowing it was a mistake, but unable to resist, Dax succumbs to the temptation of this one-time scene, never realizing where it would lead. A year later, after sealing his fate with a questionable act, he flees on a guilt trip only to return and discover nothing had changed-he still wanted Krista Matthews with an ache that wouldn’t be assuaged by anyone else.

Unable to resist stepping in when she gets herself in trouble, Dax again gives in to temptation and aids the one woman he can never have back into the lifestyle her submissive nature needed. When a vindictive woman tells Krista the truth, will her feelings be strong enough to forgive him, or did he gamble everything only to lose it all in the end?

DISCLAIMER: This book is intended for adults only. It contains elements of power exchange, BDSM, including explicit sexual scenes and anal play. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase this book.





Purchase Links

Read an excerpt:
“Why didn’t you stop?” Dax growled at the other man, each of them positioned at Krista’s sides and reaching to undo the cuffs.

“I didn’t hear her,” he snapped in defense, his posture as rigid and unapologetic as his icy tone. “She should’ve spoken up louder.”

Dax snapped his mouth shut and turned his attention to Krista’s shaken, perspiration damp body as she collapsed into his arms. Regardless of the less than favorable circumstances and his guilt, it felt damn good to feel the press of her soft, lush curves again. Lust joined his rage, the two volatile emotions a bad combination when they revolved around her. Wrapping one arm around her slender shoulders, he allowed her to bury her face in his shoulder for now as he reached for the clothes the Dom handed out.

“My apologies.”

Nodding, Dax watched the man stalk off without a backward glance and gritted his teeth against the urge to snap at him again. His indifference to Krista’s struggles proved what an asinine Dom he was, but nothing else. He sure as hell didn’t intend to call him back to fulfill his duties and take care of his sub. That job just landed in his arms, and he wouldn’t turn away from it this time like he had after Kurt’s death. Temporarily, for good or bad, she’d just become his to see to, at least for now.

“Get dressed. We’re leaving.”





About BJ Wane

I live in the Midwest with my husband and our two dogs. I love dogs, enjoy spending time with my daughter, babysitting dogs and kids, reading and working puzzles. We have traveled extensively throughout the states, Canada and just once overseas, but I much prefer being homebody. I worked for a while writing articles for a local magazine but soon found my interest in writing for myself peaking. My first book was strictly spanking erotica, but I slowly evolved to writing erotic romance with a touch of suspense. My favorite genre to read is suspense.

Contact Links:

bjwane@cox.net

http://bjwane.blogspot.com/

https://twitter.com/bj_wane

https://www.facebook.com/bj.wane



The author will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Review of The Club: Box Set by Karen M. Bryson



This post contains affiliate links. If you click on them, I may earn a small commission to support my websites.


Contemporary Romance
Date Published: 9/2/2017
Publisher: Short on Time Books

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The complete spicy hot CLUB series. Six sexy novels in one big box set!

THE CLUB SERIES includes:

BLACK DOG NIGHTS
Would you agree to be someone's mistress if he promised to pay your student loans?

SAPPHIRE BEAUTIFUL
She's a professor at a prestigious university, and he's one of her department's new graduate students.

MAD DOG DAYS
She wants to be with her roommate, the guy who she has been in love with forever, but he's still in love with her best friend.

GOLD DUST WOMAN
What happens when a world-renowned artist starts to have feelings for the man she's paying to be with?

YELLOW DOG BLUES
Washed up rock star, Maverick, is no prince and he has some work to do on his charming.

GREY CLOUDY LIES
What's a girl supposed to do when she gets pregnant and the father of the child doesn't want anything to do with the baby? How about seducing the nerdy next-door neighbor and making him believe the baby is his?


Purchase Links
Amazon * Barnes and Noble * Kobo * iBooks


Read the first chapter of Yellow Dog Blues

One
My hand shakes as I open the front door to The Club.
I have no idea what I’m doing here. Am I really contemplating selling my body for money?
I consider turning around and trying to figure something else out, but I’ve exhausted nearly every option I can imagine.
My next door neighbor, Cali, referred me to The Club when she found me locked out of my apartment with an eviction notice plastered across my door.
Chad, my boyfriend of six years, decided to join the Peace Corps without telling me. He finally admitted he was leaving when I found him packing for his flight to Africa. He left me with an apartment I had no way to pay for and several months of utility bills that were past due.
Despite all of my best efforts to secure gainful employment I haven’t been able to find a job. Not even a nibble. Not even after a nationwide search.
I guess earning a Master’s degree in Creative Writing was much less marketable than I ever imagined it would be.
Out of complete and utter desperation I dialed the number on the black business card Cali gave me. The gruff woman who answered the phone asked me only two questions: how old I was and if I was a blonde. Then she told me to meet her at three pm, quickly spat out the address and hung up on me.
So here I am at five minutes to three, my heart practically pounding out of my chest, trying to convince myself to go inside.
You have no job and nowhere to live, I remind myself. Not to mention a six figure student loan that’s about to come due in a few months. How I’ll ever be able to afford those monthly payments is something I can’t even contemplate at the moment.
I take in a deep breath and force myself to go inside.
As nondescript as the exterior of the building is, the interior is in sharp contrast. It’s rich looking with dark wood everywhere. The décor reminds me one of those men’s clubs from the movies. One of those places that only admits rich old men and exudes an atmosphere of excessive wealth and old money.
The Club probably caters to the same demographic.
There’s a young woman standing behind a large mahogany desk. I expect her to give me some type of greeting, but she just stares at me with her big doe eyes.
As I get closer I realize just how tall she is. She towers over all five foot four of me. It would surprise me if she wasn’t some kind of model. She’s rail thin and has that emaciated look about her.
“I have an appointment with Claudia.”
I’m surprised that she doesn’t check an appointment book, or even an electronic calendar, until I realize there is absolutely nothing to check. The desk is completely bare.
“Follow me,” she says.
She doesn’t give me any time to reply. She takes off down a long hallway at a pace so brisk I practically have to run to keep up with her.
When we get to the door at the end of the hallway she turns to me and says, “Go inside. Claudia is waiting for you.”
Before I have a chance to reply she takes off back down the hallway leaving me alone with the drumbeat of my pounding heart.
It takes several impossibly long moments for me to gather enough courage to open the door to Claudia’s office.
I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from gasping when I enter the large space. Everything in the room is completely white. Even Claudia herself is dressed in an all-white outfit. The decor is in sharp contrast to the heavy and dark reception area.
She looks me up and down before she instructs me to take a seat.
Claudia’s voice is husky, like someone who has smoked cigarettes for twenty years. She looks like an older version of her receptionist. She’s rail thin, and could have probably been a model a few decades ago.
I sit down in the only seat in the room that isn’t occupied. It’s on the other side of Claudia’s desk directly in front of her.
“I have a unique situation with a new client,” she tells me. “Normally we require clients to pay for at least six months in advance. This client insists on paying on a month-to-month basis. I like my girls to have a little more job security, at least six months per contract, but he’s willing to pay extra. You’re a cute blonde with a hot little body. I’ll have no problem making another more stable arrangement if things don’t work out with this client.”
She definitely gets right to the point.
I already feel dizzy with emotion. The only guy I’ve ever been with is my ex-boyfriend. We met our freshman year of college and were together for six years. Now Claudia is talking about the possibility of selling me to not one, but two different men. I’ve barely wrapped my head around the idea of being paid to be with one guy.
“He’s willing to fly you home immediately if things don’t work out.”
“Fly home?” I mutter.
“The client is located in Hawaii. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we can go any further with the negotiations because you will recognize his name.”
“Okay…” I gulp. My head is spinning. I’ve never been outside of the Midwest.
She pushes a piece of paper in front of me along with a pen. I quickly glance over the document and wonder if I should actually take the time to read it. When I look up at Claudia her scowl says don’t waste any time. So I grab the pen and scribble my name on the bottom of the non-disclosure agreement.
Once Claudia snatches the paper from my hand, she says, “My client is Maverick.”
I choke.
Did she just say Maverick? As in the musician who had the biggest selling song my junior year of high school?
His music topped the charts for months. He was so popular with teens that Hollywood producers cast him in a movie with America’s sweetheart, Katie Lawrence. The two had zero chemistry together and they blamed the box office bomb on Maverick. Then his second album came out and it failed to gain traction. His downward spiral continued when his movie star fiancée dumped him after he made national headlines with three porn stars in a hot tub. The final blow was his DUI arrest. He completely disappeared after that.
That’s who she wants me to have sex with? A washed-up pop star? When he rose to fame the media portrayed him as an A-1 asshole.
She must see the hesitation in my eyes.
“He’s willing to pay you eight thousand dollars for the month.”
That’s a lot of money and I don’t have any other options at the moment.
How bad could it possibly be? My neighbor, Cali, made it sound like I’d be his mistress. Mistresses in movies are treated well. Candlelight dinners in secluded restaurants. Weekends in lovely hotels. And plenty of diamond jewelry.
At least he’s not old. Well not that old. Thirty.



**My thoughts**

I have been a fan of Karen M. Bryson's books pretty much from the beginning. I have read almost all of her books, even when they were under her former pseudonyms. They are published under Short on Time Books, because that is exactly what they are-- hard-hitting, quick romances that you can zip through in one afternoon. This collection took somewhat of a different direction than her other books, which threw me off a little bit at first when they started coming out. And yet they are still a great escape for a couple of hours at a time. I'm sad to admit that I had lost track of how many books there actually were in the series, so finding the boxed set was an awesome surprise.

This series, which originally published under Ren Monterrey, is much darker and steamier than the other series that came out other Karen's other pen names. The Club is one of those places that you hear about and stories love to take place in, but you don't really know of one that exists. (And if you do, I am oddly intrigued.) It's the kind of place where you find  a lot of sad people who are struggling to find love. They use money and somewhat manipulative means to achieve their goals. Sometimes you aren't going to agree with how they do it. You may even find yourself questioning your own value assumptions. We think we know what we would do in situations such as these, but do we really? It's another way that you get sucked into the stories.

Different people are going to walk away with different impressions of the series as a whole. It's going to speak to some and not all. Even within the series, you are likely to really like a couple of the stories and may not like another quite as much. I think the evolution of the characters is going to surprise you, as that is often lacking in steamy collections such as this one. You'll find more depth than you expect, despite the short length of each.

You can use this set to give you an afternoon's escape every day of the week (if you also include the free prequel). But you may find yourself wanting to binge read all the way through.


Also available ~ the prequel to the set:
Free on Amazon


About the Author


KAREN M. BRYSON writes new adult, love in midlife, and romantic suspense with a little spice and lots of heart. She is a winner of the prestigious RONE Award for Excellence in the Indie and Small Publishing Industry.

Karen is also an award-winning/optioned screenwriter.

When she's not at her computer creating new stories, Karen enjoys spending time with her husband and their bloodhounds.

Karen previously wrote under the pen names SAVANNAH YOUNG, SIERRA AVALON, REN MONTERREY and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR DAKOTA MADISON.


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Monday, November 6, 2017

Read an excerpt from His Redneck Girl by Lindsey Brookes



This post contains affiliate links. If you click on them, I may earn a small commission to support my websites.


His Redneck Girl


Possum Hollow Series, Book One
Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance, Chick-lit
Date Published: October 2017

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Jimmie Joe Johnson has spent years living up to his hound dog reputation. If he can’t have the one female he truly wants, then any female will do. When he isn’t off diddlin’ some female, he’s practicing for pool playoffs, determined to get his pool team to Vegas. Not only for bragging rights, but for the free trip to ‘Sin City’ and cash prize that comes along with it.

Baylee Jean Brown has never gotten over her first and only love, Jimmie Joe Johnson. So when she discovers the truth about why he really ended things with her all those years before, she sets out to get her man back. And no other thigh-parting female is going to stand in her way. She just has to find a way to make him take notice of her, considering he’d been avoiding her since that day her spell-threatening aunt (yes, she does come from a long line of witches), threatened to place his man-parts in a jar on her windowsill.

Avoiding Baylee Jean Brown in a town the size of Possum Hollow is hard enough, but all of the sudden she’s dressing sexy and aiming all that female heat in his direction. He tries to convince her that she’s better off without him, but how can he expect her to listen to reason when his own heart and body refuse to? Now his man-parts are in a whole different kind of danger. Not because her aunt might still carry through with her threat to pickle them, but because he knows no other woman will ever do.


Recent Praise for His Redneck Girl:

"Irreverent, bawdy, laugh out loud funny. The most hilarious book I've read in years--maybe ever! In fact, I'm pretty sure this book is the reason the term "ROFLMAO" was invented. If you combined Jeff Foxworthy's humor and Jason Stackhouse's good looks and libido, you'd end up with Jimmie Joe Johnson, one smokin' hot hound dog and one hilarious read!" --New York Times bestselling author C.L. Wilson


Purchase Links


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Excerpt

“Hey there, Jimmie Joe.” A hand grabbed my ass through my jeans, giving it a firm squeeze.

The cue ball missed the rack completely, bringing about another round of snickers from my teammates. I knew, even without lookin, who that sugar sweet voice and bolder-than-hell hand belonged to. Memories from the past came rushing back. Baylee Jean always knew just how to touch me to drive me wild.

I turned to face her. “What the hell...?”

My eyes bugged out just like one of them there cartoon characters. And I was pretty sure my mouth was hanging open, too, but I couldn’t say for certain. All my thoughts were centered on the female standing in front of me. My gaze slid down Baylee Jean’s curvy form. Where the hell were her bibs? They hid a lot more flesh than what she was wearing and the last thing I wanted to be at that moment was tempted.

“Baylee Jean?” I choked.

Smiling, she tucked her hands into the back pockets of the cut-off jean shorts she wore, drawing my gaze back up to the pair of tits ready to burst out of the Bedazzled halter top she had on. Big, round, make-a-man-want-to-nibble-on-them kind of breasts.

Her smile widened. “You like? Randi Lynn gave me a few fashion tips.”

The words—Hell, yeah! —ricocheted around inside my brain. Instead, all that came out was, “Does your aunt know you’re runnin’ around town dressed like that?”

Her smile sagged for all of about two seconds, then it returned full force. She tipped her chin upward. “I’m old enough to dress like I please. And I decided it’s time for a new style.”

It had been hard enough avoiding her all these years the way she used to dress. My gaze slid over her again and I bit back a groan. Now, it was gonna be damn near impossible.

Bo let out an appreciative whistle. “I like your new style.”

The rest of my team, nodding in agreement, stared at Baylee Jean like she was the last beer left in the cooler.

“Thanks,” she said and then her gaze slid back to me. “You ain’t said what you think ‘bout my new look, Jimmie Joe.”

I was thinking that her breasts would be way too easy to access in that top. And damned if I wasn’t tempted to run my hand up between those tanned thighs and feel the heat I knew existed there.

“It looks good on you,” I muttered, trying like hell to tamp down my desire.

Her lips parted, drawing my gaze. The tip of her tongue slid out, moving over her lips in a slow, deliberately teasing swipe that had my cock stirring beneath the fly of my jeans.

Think of anything but how damn good she looks standing there, I told myself. The only thing guaranteed to come out of my diddling with Baylee Jean Brown was trouble.

She reached up to run her fingers back through her long, silky black hair. Not the straight hair I had always seen her with, but hair that had been curled just enough to make it look soft and touchable.

“I’ve been dreamin’ ’bout you,” she said with a sexy smile.

Damned if her words didn’t send a bolt of sexual hunger straight to my cock. I didn’t wanna hear about her dreams. Didn’t wanna think about her sprawled naked across her sheets period!

“Ooh,” Hit Man said with a grin. “Ain’t you a lucky son of a bitch? Havin’ a woman dream about you.”

“Most women do,” I replied, shooting a cocky grin to my buddies. Besides, it wasn’t the first time a woman told me she dreamed about me. I couldn’t help that I was the kind of man female fantasies were made of.

“Reckon so.” She moved to brush up against me like a cat in heat. “So watcha doin’?”
I knew what I wasn’t doing. I wasn’t gonna give in to my thumping cock. And I sure as hell wasn’t accomplishing what I’d come there for—shooting pool.

“Gettin’ drunk,” I replied stiffly as I set her away from me. I already had a laundry basket imprint on my ass. I sure as hell didn’t wanna add Callie Rae’s talon marks to my already-tender flesh.

“So I can take advantage of you?” she asked, not the least bit deterred in her pursuit. 

“’Cause I would, you know?” she said, not giving me a chance to reply. And followed that up with another dart of her pink tongue across those glossy lips.

Thump. Thump.

Hearing her say those things, all grown up and dressed like that was threatening my sanity. With a curse, I tossed the bar stick down on the table and walked back to the bar. “Duffster, you’re up.”

“Reckon I ain’t the only one,” he said with a grin as he walked past me.

I looked down at the fly of my pants with a groan.

“Not gonna take her up on her offer?” T-Bone asked as she reached for her beer.

“Hell, no.” I was glad I didn’t have to ask a Magic 8-Ball that question, because I had a gut feeling its response would be—SIGNS POINT TO YES. And there was one big sign doing the pointing right at that moment, just below my favorite GOT BEER belt buckle.

The front door swung open and Randi Lynn stepped into the bar.

“Well, if it ain’t little Miss Smell-Good,” Skeeter hollered.

“Better than smellin’ like a stinky ol’ fish,” she replied with a toss of her long black hair.

He sniffed himself with a grin. “You mean my catch-of-the-day cologne ain’t makin’ you wanna strip me naked?”

“Only thing I’d be strippin’ you naked for would be a bath.”

“You offerin’?”

She muttered something under her breath I’d have guessed was a curse or two if she were Baylee Jean. But Randi Lynn’s mouth was about as clean as they come. I reckon their momma had used up all the cursing genes on Baylee Jean.

Ignoring Skeeter, who tended to set her off anytime they were near each other, Randi Lynn scanned the room. “Baylee Jean,” she said. “Aunt Callie’s lookin’ for you.”

“Shit,” Baylee Jean cursed with a frown. Every bit the girl I remembered. Gotta love a female with a dirty mouth.

“She’s drivin’ around town. I cut through the woods to warn you.”

“I’ll be right out,” Baylee Jean replied, the frustration clear in her voice.

With a nod, her sister turned and disappeared behind the closing door.

Baylee Jean’s toe-peeping, red high heels clicked across the cigarette-butt-littered floor as she moved toward the front door. Halfway there, she stopped and turned.

I might have had my back to her, but I knew she was looking my way and wanting what she couldn’t have. It was a family gift all us Johnson men had. E.S.P—Extra Sexual Perception. We knew when a woman wanted us.

“One of these days, Jimmie Joe,” she said, “you’re gonna be servicin’ me again and only me.”

She had no idea how close she was to being serviced right then and there. The second the door closed behind her, air whistled through my teeth.

“Holy shit, Jimmie Joe,” Bo said, dragging a hand down over his bushy beard.

I reached for my beer, taking several long swallows. Holy shit was right. The button at the top of my fly was about to give in to the pressure beneath it and launch across the smoke-hazed bar.

What the hell was going on? Baylee Jean had barely spared me a glance for the past ten years—deservedly so. Now, all of a sudden, she was oozing honey and coming after me like a Bluetick coonhound fixing to tree a coon.

My cock twitched. I wanted to be that coon. And despite knowing it was best to keep things the way they had been between Baylee and me, I had to admit I was real tempted to let myself get treed by her. Just once. Maybe then I’d finally be able to get her out of my blood—for good.


 photo His Redneck Girl by Lindsey Brookes on tablet by wine glass_zpsber77e2s.jpg


About the Author


Award-winning romance author Lindsey Brookes is a four-time RWA Golden Heart finalist, as well as a past American Title III finalist, and winner of Harlequin's Great American Romance Novel contest. She has written for, Kensington Publishing, Amazon Publishing, and has indie-pubbed several of her young adult and adult contemporary romances. She is represented by Michelle Grajkowski with 3 Seas Literary Agency.







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