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Showing posts with label Reading Addiction Blog Tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reading Addiction Blog Tours. Show all posts
Friday, December 6, 2019
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Taken by the Outlaw by Tory Richards
MC Suspense Romance
Date Published: 10/15/19
She was on the run.
He might be her salvation.
Would you give yourself to a stranger? Gwendolyn Myers never thought about it until she runs into Marcus 'Bowie' Ford at the Pink Pussy. A run-down hotel at the edge of town. She's on the run, but one taste of the sexy biker convinces Gwen that her running days might be over!
Excerpt
I watched his hand slowly descend but before it reached my cheek another hand shot out, out of nowhere, clamped around the drunk’s thick wrist, and stopped his arm in mid air. Heat radiated off a presence behind me and I slowly turned, catching my breath. My eyes locked onto the narrowed, fear-provoking gaze of my savior, the hunky biker. His warm, whiskey laced breath bathed my forehead, and my gaze fell to his mouth, which was way too close. For a crazy second I wondered what kissing those sensuous lips would taste like.
Realizing that I was staring I glanced up at him.
"Run little girl, things are about to get fucking ugly."
I shook my head. "I don't want to cause any trouble."
"Then you should have heeded to my warning.” His tone said he was annoyed that I hadn’t. “Now get the fuck out of here."
I opened my mouth to speak but his expression darkened even more. I shivered from the intensity, realizing that his anger was directed at me as much as the drunk. I didn't know this man, and it occurred to me that I didn't want to. He might be hot as hell, but danger dripped from every pore.
He looked determined, and dangerous.
I don't know why I listened to him, but suddenly my arm was released, and I was heading toward the door. On my way there I dodged other bikers who were quickly heading toward the bar. I heard a loud commotion start but didn't turn around. Once I hit the door and was outside, I took a deep breath, not realizing until then that I'd been holding my breath.
Fuck! My heart was racing a mile a minute. That was…intense, and had happened so fast. I couldn't recall ever striking anyone before. My reaction to the biker's command pissed me off because Greg had always told me what to do. I didn't need some stranger taking his place, even if it was my fault for jumping when he said jump. If I was going to make it on my own then I needed to exert myself.
I checked for traffic before crossing the road to the hotel. I made it all the way to my door before remembering that I'd forgotten my damn sandwich. Crap! Well, I wasn't going back. The cheese and crackers I’d picked up at a convenience store earlier would have to do until morning. I unlocked my door, and headed straight to the bathroom, thinking about a nice long soak in the tub.
*Some of this book has been previously published. New cover. New title. New and updated content.
About the author:
Tory Richards is an Amazon bestselling author who writes smut with a plot. Born in Maine, she's lived most of her life in Florida where she went to school, married, and raised her daughter. She's retired from Disney and spends her time with family and friends, traveling, and writing.
Contact Links
Monday, September 23, 2019
The Devil and Dayna Dalton by Brit Lunden
Book 9: A Bulwark Anthology
Paranormal Romance
Date Published: September 30, 2019
Publisher: Chelshire, Inc.
Reporter Dayna Dalton’s reputation has been ruined since birth. The daughter of wild child, Becky Dalton, is expected to follow her mother’s footsteps; never given a chance to prove she’s different. Dayna’s been in love with Clay Finnes since she was a teenager. Her unrequited love for Sheriff Finnes leaves her empty. He’s happily married and unavailable. Instead, Dayna finds herself stuck in the revolving door of bad relationships. But this is Bulwark, Georgia, a town where strange things are always happening. Dayna is doomed to this loveless life until she can find someone who will appreciate the depth of her character. Can she overcome her fears and look beyond her own perceptions to accept a greater love?
*Contains Sexual Content*
Purchase Link
Excerpt
Chapter 4
“The devil is in the details.”
It was a steady beep that woke her. Dayna struggled to open her eyes. Her lids were heavy, as if they had been glued shut. She panicked for a minute, thinking she might have died and they had sealed her eyes. She lifted a hand to rub her face and felt the tug of something tethering her. She pulled, then moaned from the sharp pain near her elbow.
Brisk hands tucked her arm under a sheet next to her side. She turned to find Jenna Finnes adjusting an IV line.
Their eyes met, and Jenna said in a flat tone, “Don’t yank the IV out.” She walked over to a whiteboard, erased someone’s name, and printed her own, her face grim.
Dayna cleared her throat. Before she got any words out, Jenna spoke without turning around. “They brought you in last night. Minor abrasions. Sprained ankle, nothing serious.” She turned around, and her face held no warmth. “Whoever you were rolling around in the woods with left you there.”
“I wasn’t…” Dayna coughed. Her throat hurt when she spoke. Jenna poured her a cup of water.
“Whatever.” Clay’s wife shrugged. “You were out for a long time. There’s a bump on your head, but the CAT scan was negative.”
Dayna took the water with one hand. The other cautiously touched a tender bump on the side of her skull.
“When can I get out of here?” Dayna asked.
“They’re not going to let you drive home, not that your car is here anyway. The doctor will give you more information when he stops by.” Jenna walked toward the door.
“Jenna,” Dayna called after her, “who brought me in?”
“Sherry and Terence found you.” Jenna answered without looking at her.
Dayna could feel hatred emanating from the rigid stance of the nurse’s body and closed face. She could not stop herself from calling her name again. “Jenna?” Jenna turned, her eyes unfriendly. “How’s Clay doing?”
Jenna pulled open the door and left without another word.
Dayna let her head fall back on the pillows. For all that Jenna had a sterling reputation, she was no Florence Nightingale. The pillows were flat and water had spilled, making the coarse sheet both damp and uncomfortable. Jenna hadn’t even asked if she could bring Dayna something for her aching head.
Tears filled Dayna’s eyes and slid down the sides of her face. “Stop that damn self-pity,” she admonished herself.
Outside, the overcast sky cast a dark shadow over Bulwark. Wind whipped the branches of the trees. It didn’t take a forecaster to know a storm was brewing.
Dayna’s stomach rumbled noisily. The bedside table was just out of her reach. While her clothes and purse were nowhere to be seen, her phone lay on the surface of the table. It buzzed, the noise making Dayna jump, reminding her of every ache and bruise. She stretched, her sore muscles protesting. Her fingers spun the phone in a circle, the momentum forcing it to fall onto the side of the bed.
It was the editor of the paper, Howard Bresen.
“Yes?” Dayna picked up the phone.
“What happened to you?” Howard’s brusque voice demanded.
“Nothing. I saw a wolf and followed—”
“You tie one on again? No wolves in this part of Georgia. Everybody knows that, babe.”
Dayna hated when he called her that. She took a steadying breath and tried to keep the resentment from her voice. “I know what I saw.” Did she? She shivered, thinking of those strange pupils. Dayna opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. She touched the tender spot on her head. She banged her head. That explained it, didn’t it?
“Yeah, you and half the population of Bulwark must be on LSD or something.”
“I don’t use drugs, Howard.”
“No matter, Dayna. I need an obit on JB Straton by tonight. It’s going on the front page. But if you’d rather argue with me, I can find someone else to do it.”
Dayna sat up, her head pounding, but she ignored it. The front page. “No, I want to write it. Can you send someone to pick me up? I have to get home.”
Howard growled that he didn’t have a staff of chauffeurs at his disposal. Then the phone grew quiet.
“Listen, babe, you didn’t see a wolf.”
“Howard, I know what I saw.” She paused, then finished, “I want to write a story about it.”
“I said you didn’t see a wolf. Got it?” Howard’s voice was stern.
If he was this way about the wolf, he’d go nuts if she mentioned the man with the blood-red eyes. For sure, that made no sense. It had to be a hallucination.
Dayna sat mute for a minute. When she opened her mouth, her boss added, “You want that front page or not? I won’t offer it to you again. No wolf. I want a nice tribute to a stand-up guy.” He mumbled something to someone in his office and said loudly, “Okay, I’m sending Lemuel. He’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“I have to get the doctor to release me,” she replied, her mind already forming the opening paragraph about JB Straton.
“You’ve got one hour!” He hung up the phone.
Dr. Kent entered the room as the phone went dead.
“I have a deadline,” she told him, her palm outstretched in an appeal.
Dr. Kent had kind eyes. He was new to the town and had a reputation for being both warm and friendly to everyone he met. He sat on the edge of the bed and patted her hand. “How do you feel?”
“I’d feel better in my own home,” Dayna said with an edge of impatience.
“Uh-huh,” he said, shining a light into her eyes. He rotated her head, asking if anything hurt.
“Just a little sore,” she assured him.
He lifted the covers, then picked up her ankle. He had gentle hands with long, elegant fingers. His touch was cool and efficient. It calmed her.
“It’s not broken. Stay off it for the rest of the day,” Dr. Kent said while he wrote notes on a chart. She noticed he was left-handed and watched his hand curl unnaturally with the pen as he wrote.
“You’re releasing me?” Dayna asked hopefully.
“Are you asking or demanding, Miss Dalton?” He smiled.
Dayna grinned back, and the room was decidedly toastier than when Nurse Jenna Finnes was there.
“I have to write an article about JB Straton.”
Dr. Kent’s face darkened. “He was a nice guy. Helped me out just a few days ago. I ran into some trouble when I was jogging.” Dr. Kent caught himself and changed the subject quickly. “Well, no matter. It’s not exactly a tragedy. He was old.”
“Isn’t all death a tragedy?” Dayna asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “Not really. When a person is old or infirm, sometimes it’s a blessing.”
“I can understand the age part, but the infirm?”
“When a person can’t be healed or they are incurable, it may be for the best. Sometimes they want to go, as if they’ve finished their use here.”
“I thought your job was about saving lives,” Dayna said.
Dr. Kent looked up, his blue eyes piercing. “I assure you, Miss Dalton, I do everything within my power to save lives. It’s not always up to me.”
“Then who is it up to?” Dayna asked, her chin tilted.
He looked at her as if weighing how to answer. “That’s something I wrestle with all the time. I think that when it’s someone’s time, it’s their time to go.”
The reporter came to life in Dayna’s head. “Where do you think they go?”
“Who knows? The Elysian Fields, Heaven...”
“Hell?” Dayna asked.
“I don’t believe in Hell,” he said, then added, “Sometimes I think hell is here.”
“Well, that’s profound.” Dayna reached for her bag to get a pen, realizing she had neither. She stopped moving and looked up at him. “What makes you say that?”
Dr. Kent looked out the window, his face distant. “Sometimes life is torment. I equate torment with hell.”
“Are you tormented?” Dayna asked softly, not wanting the moment to end.
Dr. Kent stood completely still, as if he was thinking of a way to answer. He shook his head as he looked at her. “No, I never said that.”
Dayna opened her mouth to ask another question, but he silenced her with a response.
“Stay off your foot for a few days.” He resumed writing notes on her chart. “You should be much better by tomorrow. If you have any vision issues or headaches”—he paused and added—” or strange thoughts, come back to the hospital immediately.”
He glanced out the window again, his eyes far away. Dayna looked in the direction of his gaze. He was staring, lost in thought, at the new diner that had opened recently. There was something going on here. She’d give her new Louis Vuitton bag to get to the bottom of that story. Now wasn’t the time, though. She needed that front page and to gain her boss’s trust to give her more leeway.
The blood-red eyes flashed in her mind, and she crushed the thoughts ruthlessly. She needed to get moving.
“Dr. Kent?” she prodded. “Can I leave now?”
He nodded absently. “Weather’s picking up. You know, I moved here because I hated the climate in New England.”
Well, that was strange, she thought. Neat change of subject. He was well skilled at diverting attention from things he didn’t want to discuss.
“Yes,” Dayna agreed, watching him. “We hardly had a summer last year.”
They both muttered, “Global warming,” at the same time. Dayna laughed. The doctor shrugged and moved to the door.
“Dr. Kent?”
He turned around.
“Has anyone said anything about seeing any wolves around town lately?”
“Wolves?” He shook his head.
“They’re extinct here. Why? Are you seeing wolves?” He looked at her closely.
“No, of course not. It’s just that there have been reports from several locals.”
“Bulwark has its share of crazies. I wouldn’t believe everything you hear,” Dr. Kent said as he left the room.
A different nurse arrived to unhook her IV. She handed Dayna a plastic bag containing her clothing and purse. Dayna dressed as quickly as her bruised body allowed. She opened the door to her room and walked into the hall.
Dayna walked furtively to the intensive care section at the end of the corridor. She waited until an orderly flashed his identification card to open the old wooden swinging doors. Trout Parker turned around and smiled at her when he let her follow him through the entrance.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he told her, his voice low, his eyes raking her body. “Heard you went out with Skippy Benson.” He leered at her. “Maybe you want to go for a drink with me?”
Dayna shook her head. “Sorry, I’m kind of busy right now. I’m visiting an old friend,” Dayna finished with an edge of defensiveness in her reply.
Trout laughed and said slyly, “Sheriff Finnes is in the last room on the left.”
He pointed down the corridor and didn’t move. “You know he’s back with his wife, Dayna, but like I said”—he held his arms open wide, a wolfish grin on his face— “I’m available.”
“Yes, um...thanks, Trout. I’ll remember that.”
She felt his eyes follow her to the end of the corridor. That guy gave her a healthy dose of the creeps.
Dayna walked close to the wall. There was a window outside the room, and she could see Clay in the hospital bed. He was hooked up to machines, a bandage around his head. The bed was elevated, and Dayna could see he was awake. She touched the glass separating them.
The curtain that surrounded the bed twitched. Jenna walked in holding a cup of applesauce in one hand, a spoon in the other. Her cold eyes locked on Dayna, and with a sneer, she pulled the curtains across the window.
About the author:
Brit Lunden is a prolific author who’s written over 50 books in assorted genres under different pen names. Bulwark was her first effort in adult fiction and was chosen by several of her fellow authors as the basis for a new series, A Bulwark Anthology. Using her characters, they are creating new denizens in spin-off stories to this bizarre town. Brit Lunden lives on Long Island in a house full of helpful ghosts.
Contact Links
Tuesday, September 17, 2019
#NewRelease Dark Justice by Angela Smith with Giveaway
Romantic Suspense / Contemporary Romance
Date Published: September 17, 2019
She’s in love with her sister’s killer...
Lauren has loved Luke since first grade. They planned to marry—until he murdered her sister. The moment he was sentenced to prison, Lauren fled with her secret baby and made a new life. Now she’ll do anything to keep their daughter safe. But her hard won peace shatters when Luke is exonerated, and it sets her on a path of mixed emotions to discover the truth. Letting a killer into their tightly knit family is out of the question. Or is it?
She almost destroys her life by threatening his…
Prison stole his future with Lauren and twelve years of Luke’s life, so the last thing he needs from her is a knife in the back or a gun in his face. Lauren believes he killed her sister, and he has no plans to pick up where they left off. Luke can’t afford to trust her, but he wants nothing more than to convince her he’s worth fighting for.
Their daughter is in danger…
Luke is heartbroken when he learns they had a child together. Now his daughter is in danger. Lauren trusted the wrong person for far too long, but he hopes she’ll now trust him. Luke will risk everything to keep them safe. And Lauren will risk everything if she lets him into her heart.
Buy it on Amazon
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Should you make a purchase through my affiliate link, I may earn a few pennies at no additional cost to you. Thank you for supporting my websites!
Excerpt
When Lauren strode through the door and saw Luke, she halted. A panic switch flicked on in her chest, heart pounding in fight-or-flight mode.
Stay. Don’t run. She forced her erratic breathing to slow.
Laramie stood beside her. Laramie. Why hadn’t she picked up the car later, when Laramie wasn’t around? Oh yeah, because she never expected to confront Luke at the same body shop he recommended.
Jim Edwards approached. She didn’t know him well, but enough to know he was a good man and ran a good shop. He and his wife owned and managed it together. Despite Luke’s recommendation, Jim’s reputation made it her first choice. Knowing Luke worked here would have changed everything.
Jim was tall but squatty, with a permanent curve to his back, a twinkle in his eyes, and salt and pepper hair. Grease covered his clothes. He rubbed his hands in a towel but didn’t offer a shake.
“Ms. Cooper, good to see you again. Your vehicle is ready. You wanna look it over first?”
The shop was full of grease and tools and contraptions expected to be in such a workplace. A sign to her right pointed to the office. That’s the direction she should have gone. If only she had known to avoid Luke.
“Um.” She wet her lips, swallowed, and ignored Luke’s gaze from the other side of the garage. “Who handled the repairs?”
“Oh, that’d be Luke Fuller. Great technician. He’s standing right over there if you’d like to talk to him.”
Jim pointed, but she knew exactly who Luke Fuller was.
What kind of joke was this? A joke with destiny? How had Luke been the one to repair her vehicle? It was practically his fault she had wrecked. Not directly his fault, but indirectly. She had been running from him and from all the emotions he’d wrought in her.
He should have told her he worked here.
“Luke,” Jim called, waving him over. She hadn’t answered, so he must have thought that meant she wanted to talk with the technician.
She didn’t. She wanted to get into her car and run away. She’d have to force herself to go slow and easy so she didn’t wreck. Luke’s long strides ate up the distance between them.
“That’s okay, we’re good to go,” she told Jim, but he kept waving Luke over.
She had wanted to talk to him. Tell him how sorry she was about everything that happened. But now wasn’t the time. Her whole body shook, weakness assailing her when her daughter gasped beside her.
“Laramie, get in the car,” she whispered.
Laramie was busy studying the man coming toward them, blatantly curious. She undoubtedly recognized Luke from her online search.
He stopped in front of them. Lauren tried to turn Laramie away, but Jim spoke.
“Can you go over the Escape with Ms. Cooper? I’ve got to run. Great to meet you and do business with you, ma’am. You can settle up your deductible in the office there. Claire will take care of you. Or Luke can take care of it, too.” He nodded toward the door and offered his hand. “Have a great day, little lady,” he said to Laramie. The man walked away, and she stared at his disappearing back, her mouth opening but no words formed.
I don’t want to talk to Luke, she wanted to say.
She avoided his gaze and eyed Jim’s retreating back as if he was her lifeline. But when she turned back to Luke, his brows creased and his head swiveled between Laramie and her.
She planted her hand on Laramie’s shoulder. “Get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.” Her voice was shaky, empty, and way too tactless not to sound suspicious. She couldn’t have him studying Laramie too long. She didn’t need him to figure things out. And she damn sure didn’t want Laramie questioning anything.
“As you can see, ma’am, we replaced the passenger door and fixed the front fender. The bumper was a bit skewed, and—”
She whirled on him, her eyes flashing fire. “And what else did you do?” Her whisper was a silent but scorching scream, only meant for his ears. But not silent enough Laramie wouldn’t hear the irritation. Her daughter continued to stand beside her, but she was too shocked to do anything about it.
He gave a slight headshake as if confused by her outburst. “Excuse me?”
“I’m supposed to get into this vehicle now? After you’ve touched it?”
He took a step back, his mouth opening.
“I replaced your fender and repaired your passenger door. Your bumper needed a bit of adjustment, too.”
Angry fire clogged her throat, her voice an eerie grumbling twang. Laramie stood silent beside her, watching her, observing her reaction. Lauren bit back on her fear.
This was Luke’s daughter. Luke’s daughter, and he didn’t know it, didn’t need to know it. She never would have brought her if she’d known he was working here. But now her best interest was to know everything she could about him, including his daily routine and where he worked, so she never had to run into him again.
Best to stay composed and avoid attention. She didn’t need her daughter wondering, or Luke studying her daughter too much.
She needed to get out of here.
His gaze flipped to hers, then to Laramie’s. She shielded her by shifting ever so slightly in front of her, but the question in his eyes revealed his curiosity.
“Mom?” Her daughter’s voice held that tween-angst-trust-no-one-and-question-everything tone.
“Get in the car,” she told Laramie, biting back her name. She refused to speak her name in front of Luke, as if that made everything real.
“You have a daughter?” Luke’s voice rose in a choppy wave of aggression.
No one besides them was in the shop. What would Jim’s reaction be if he knew he’d left her alone with the man who had sired her child and gone to prison for murdering her sister?
Her belly tightened. The car stereo fired up, jolting her back to reality. Laramie had climbed into the car, doing as asked, and a boomy bassy song blared from the speakers. The rumble resonated in her heartbeat.
“How old is she?” Luke asked. Why was she still here, her feet planted into the concrete floor as if stuck? His eyes flashed, lips curled. Her entire body shook. Curled into knots.
She squared her shoulders. “Thank you for the repair,” she said, then turned on her heel toward the car.
About the Author
Angela Smith is a Texas native who, years ago, was dubbed most likely to write a novel during her senior year in high school. She always had her nose stuck in a book, even hiding them behind her textbooks during school study time. Her dream began at a young age when her sister started reciting 'Brer Rabbit' after their mom read it to them so often. She told her mom she'd write a story one day and never gave up on that dream even though her mom was never able to see it come to fruition. By day, she works as a certified paralegal and office manager at her local District Attorney's office and spends her free time with her husband, their pets, and their many hobbies. Although life in general keeps her very busy, her passion for writing and getting the stories out of her head tends to make her restless if she isn't following what some people call her destiny.
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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
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
Purchase Links
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.
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.
Contact Links
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
So, you think you want to be a writer? by Ella Adamian, author of 'His Name Is Kilian'
So you think you want to be a writer
Starting Out As a Writer – 5 Things You Should Know
1. People might hate your book.
And many of them will be vocal about it. Many will hate the storyline. Or the characters. Or your writing style. Or the lack of it. And many will miss the point. But you can’t sit near each of your readers and explain to them what you meant or what your characters meant. Try to write as good as possible, treat your readers with respect, and remember that you are not your book. If a reader didn’t like it, it doesn’t mean they don’t like you.
2. People might love your book.
You might think it’s the best thing that can happen to a writer. Readers loved your book. Yay! They send you emails and ask about the sequel. And you feel yourself the happiest writer in the world. Then your blood runs cold. Can you do that again? Will you be able to write something as good? Will your muse stay with you till the end? Your readers have certain expectations now, what if they will be disappointed. What if they want the ending you hadn’t planned? How are you going to deal with the pressure, with the fear of failing?
3. You might be stoned and bullied.
Internet has let the bullies loose. The World Wide Web is teemed with all the types of bullies (and psychos). Many will use insults you didn’t know existed, will stone the book that took you months to write and cost you $$ (considering your book is well edited and has a good cover). You might feel devastated. You love constructive criticism, but you hadn’t signed up for internet abuse. These people aren’t called trolls for no reason. And remember that the trolls should not be fed.
4. You won’t get away with things that famous authors get away with.
Why? Because you’re not famous. Or maybe because you’re labeled as an indie author. Or because someone wasn’t in the mood today. Or just because. Stephen King has an orgy scene involving six 12-year-olds in one of his books. Do you think you’ll get away with something like that? I highly doubt it.
5. You will be terrified from the amount of competition.
80.000 new books are published on Amazon every month. And the old ones don’t go anywhere. There might come a day when there will be more books than readers. What do you plan doing then?
And tonight, after you write down 5000 words, then go to bed and prepare to sleep, think about this: do you still want to be a writer?
If your answer is YES, then welcome to the family! :))
His Name Is Killian
Date Published: November 25, 2014
Killian Stone paints harpies.
Killian Stone is not into vanilla sex.
Killian Stone suffers from mood swings.
Killian Stone has done something very bad.
The day the painter approaches her on the bridge and asks her to pose for him is the beginning of a lust Melissa won’t be able to bridle. When Killian Stone offers her a month of submission, she’s already too captivated to turn him down. His unhinged sexuality lets her explore her own dark fantasies, but his anger outbursts are scary and devastating. As the time goes by, Melissa realizes there’s something more than just irritability and anger. He has done something which doesn’t let him rest.
Read an excerpt:
Killian didn’t say more but ran after Melissa. She had almost reached the exit. When she saw the already familiar erotic images over the walls, she rushed forward, stumbled upon the iron door, told the guard to open it, and threw herself out of the building. The yellow light of the street pole hurt her eyes after they had been too long in the dark. She looked up, as if searching for solace in the dark skies, and at last took a deep breath of the cold air.
“Melissa!” she heard his voice behind. She didn’t turn. Instead, she took a step, but her legs were losing their strength, and she felt weak in the knees.
“Baby.” He was close now, and she turned around and pushed him in the chest.
“Damn it! What the hell was all that for? What for?”
Laughing, Killian tried to envelop his arms around her, but she shrank back.
“Come here.” He made another attempt to hug her and met resistance again. “Come, stop it. Let me hug you, and you’ll calm down.”
“Leave me!” she yelled louder as Killian forced his arms around her. “Leave me, you…pervert.”
“Baby, sweet thing, little angel, I’m sorry if it scared you,” Killian muttered, pressing her to his chest and rubbing her back. “I didn’t think you were so impressionable. Those were just S and M games in a BDSM dungeon.”
“You said it was a museum!” she cried out, trying to get out of his grip. Killian held her tighter, and her efforts became more vigorous.
“Calm down,” he said, feeling her tears on his neck.
“Why would you do that to me?”
“Calm down.”
“Let me go! I can’t stand you!” She pushed him harder, but the steel arms weren’t letting her free. The claustrophobic feeling was back again, and Lessi pushed him with all her force. At last he loosened his grip but didn’t let her slip through his hands and kept her at an arm’s length by her shoulders.
“Calm down, nothing bad has happened,” he said as she again tried to get out of his arms.
“Here, hit me.” Killian cupped her hands in his and balled her palms into fists. “Hit me, and you’ll feel better,” he said, hitting her hands against his chest.
Melissa tried to pull her hands back, but he tightened his grip and once again hit himself with her fists. “Do it! You’re so mad with me. Hit me and you’ll feel better.”
“Stop it.”
“Hit me!”
About Ella Adamian
Ella Adamian lives in a small country named Armenia and writes in English. She also hides her identity, so that the local law enforcement bodies won’t fine or detain her for her explicit erotic novel “His Name is Killian.” Currently she’s working on the sequel of her first book.a Rafflecopter giveaway
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Review of 'Running Interference (Cleveland Clash #1)' by Elley Arden
Date Published: January 19, 2015
Blurb:
As an offensive linewoman for the Cleveland Clash, Tanya Martin is tough inside and out. The 5'9" beauty can take a hit and keep on going. But when the man she was best friends with - and secretly in love with - in high school comes home the same day she learns her father's gym is in financial trouble, she's unexpectedly blindsided.
Super Bowl MVP Cam Simmons is only back in town to convince his mom to move out of her failing neighborhood and live in luxury with him in Boston. But running into Tanya stirs up plenty of old feelings he never resolved. He was happy to leave his old life behind him when he hit the NFL, but walking away from their friendship was a mistake he wants to rectify.
As they work together to help save her dad's gym, Cam and Tanya's easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry resurface. But can she open up enough to trust him with her heart a second time around?
Super Bowl MVP Cam Simmons is only back in town to convince his mom to move out of her failing neighborhood and live in luxury with him in Boston. But running into Tanya stirs up plenty of old feelings he never resolved. He was happy to leave his old life behind him when he hit the NFL, but walking away from their friendship was a mistake he wants to rectify.
As they work together to help save her dad's gym, Cam and Tanya's easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry resurface. But can she open up enough to trust him with her heart a second time around?
Read an excerpt:
“I was thinking, what about a celebrity boxing match?” Tanya asked.
“Uh, no.” Hell, he couldn’t even keep up with her in the ring.
“Back her into the corner!” some guy yelled.
What? Cam took his eyes off her for only a split second.
She popped him again and smiled. “Yeah, that’s probably a terrible idea. I mean who wants to pay to see you get your ass kicked?”
She danced around him, eyes blazing. Focus, man.
He managed a jab to her gut before she moved away.
“Thatta way!” the guy cheered.
She approached again. Cam swung. At the last minute, she spun, and his fist hung in midair. More dancing. Little hops. And a rush of laughter. He loved when she had fun. There was nothing more beautiful in the whole world.
She popped him again. Right in the flank.
The guy booed. Cam may have, too, because this didn’t seem fair.
“You know, it’s okay to hit a girl in here,” she said. “I don’t want you getting hung up on political correctness and looking like a fool in front of your … ” she glanced at the guy who was watching them, “fan. Singular.”
Smart ass. He lunged, and she dodged.
“Come on,” she said. “Show me what you’ve got, superstar.”
Oh, he’d show her all right. Just not in here. Later, they were going to finish what they started. He would find someplace where they wouldn’t be interrupted by roommates or family members, someplace where they could …
She bounced to the left and clobbered him. His brain rattled.
The guy gave a disgusted sound, and then walked away.
His one fan had bailed.
Time to stop the insanity. “Okay!” His louder than normal voice halted Tanya in her tracks, but a second later, she was bouncing again.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Just me announcing that the match can finally begin. I think you’re good and warmed up.” He grinned. “In fact,” he bobbed his brows, “you’re looking super-hot to me.”
Her feet slowed, and her eyes narrowed. “How ‘bout from now on you keep your thoughts to yourself? This is a boxing ring, not group therapy.”
Yep, he’d unnerved her, and he was just getting started.
“I’m being courteous,” he said, shuffling closer and lowering his voice. “I like to let my opponents get a feel for my size before we really get down and dirty.” He bit into his cheek to keep from laughing.
“You wish,” she said, but she was smiling too.
He advanced. She backpedaled, and then she hit the rope.
“Trapped,” he mouthed.
“Never,” she whispered.
**My thoughts**
I was first introduced to Elley Arden in her Kemmons Brothers Baseball Series. I am a sucker for sports romances. I loved the interactions between her characters, her strong women, and of course the hot leading men. In the third book, we are introduced to a women's professional football team, called the Cleveland Clash. MJ is the quarterback, who starts a love affair with a sports doctor. In that book, we meet her friends, one of whom is Tanya Martin. This is a spinoff series, featuring Tanya as the leading woman.
Tanya is another strong woman. She is physically strong, taking out the opposition on the field as an offensive lineman. She is family strong, one of five children, and has a very close relationship with her father, known as Pop. She has strong bonds with her friends and teammates. She also has strong convictions about love, or so she thinks.
Her past with Cam is her Achilles heel. The two of them were best friends in high school, who shares just about everything. When he became a pro football player, and a good one at that, they eventually lost touch. That hurt her deeply and she has never quite gotten over it. When he suddenly returns to town, that vulnerable side comes back out again. Her growth comes in the form of learning how to trust and to love again.
Cam is riding a high, having just been named the Super Bowl MVP. His career with the Patriots continues to soar. He has also never quite gotten over that girl from his past, but doesn't quite realize how much until he sees her again. Tanya is one chink in his armor. His mother is his other. Despite being such a force of nature on the field and in life, he has a softer side when it comes to his women. He claims to hate his Cleveland town and can't imagine why anyone would stay there. Cam's journey helps him to remember why home is where the heart is, even if you have moved on.
The two of them have an undeniable chemistry from the very moment they meet again. They go through their ups and downs, as all romances should. Their story is another good one, that helped me pass the time on a snowy afternoon. My appetite has been whet for this new series. I recommend it.
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Elley Arden
Elley Arden is a born and bred Pennsylvanian who has lived as far west as Utah and as far north as Wisconsin. She drinks wine like it’s water (a slight exaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, and believes almond English toffee is the key to happiness.Charming characters. Emotional stories. Sexy romance.
Website: elleyarden.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Elley-Arden-Author/540667649278016?ref=hl
Twitter: @elleywrites
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