June Release & Giveaway: Nasty by R.L. Kenderson

R.L. Kenderson is here today to share the release of her new romance, Nasty! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!

Standalone: Sexy Workplace Contemporary Romance

 

Stevie

My Fairy Godmother had a wicked sense of humor, of that I was certain.

The first time I met Jackson Hart, I was on all fours with my ass in the air.

At the time of our meet not so cute, I didn’t know that the handsome man with the most captivating blue eyes was the wealthy, charismatic, and hot as sin hotelier, oh and my new boss.

Well, technically he is my boss's boss. Just skimming the company manual was maybe not the best idea.

But, I digress. Working at Hart Hotels & Spa was a temporary plan.

Now, that plan has changed. Jackson Hart not only wanted me in his bed and in his life, he wanted me working alongside him.

Some offers are too good to pass up.

Jackson

Premium scotch aged to perfection, making money before sunrise, nine holes of golf and interesting conversation. Those are the things most known about me. Toss in a leggy brunette or a stunning redhead at a society event for good measure and there’s a story to amuse the public. But, my story goes deeper—to the past that I left behind.

Sooner or later past and present collide. I never dreamed Stevie Brockman would be part of both.

Release Date: June 21, 2018

Cover Design: Hart & Bailey Design Co.
 

 

 

Monday Night Guy by Liz Lovelock

Release Date: June 21 2018

Cover design: Letitia from RBA Designs

Photographer: Lindee Robinson Photography

Models: Travis Bendall & Ali Abela

Genre: College Romance

Synopsis

Parker Kent . . .

Deliciously good-looking

Basketball captain

Complete and utter jerk

I made a vow—a vow to steer clear of guys like Parker. But when he shows up every Monday night at my workplace, that vow is torn to shreds. As much as I’d like, to I can’t ignore a customer.

At some point, a friendship forms. It’s not what I expected; he’s not what I expected. Those walls I put up are being torn down piece by piece, allowing Parker into my heart. Am I setting myself up for disaster, or is my Monday-night guy just the antidote my wounded heart needs?

Family Ties by Stephie Walls

Release Date: June 21, 2018

Cover Design: Wicked by Design

Synopsis

With a history like ours, the meaning of the word family tended to tangle into something unrecognizable. DNA and bloodlines didn’t tie us together, and neither did our last names. Various shades of grey blurred the branches of our twisted family tree.

I wasn’t her brother.
They weren’t my parents.
Not that it mattered…

May Release with Giveaway: Shameless by Gina Maxwell

Enter to Win a $25.00 Amazon Gift Card...TWO WINNERS!

SHAMELESS

Playboys in Love #1

Gina L. Maxwell

Releasing May 30th, 2016

Entangled: Scorched

People say I’m shameless. They’re right.

I like my work dirty and my sex even dirtier. It takes a hell of a lot to tilt my moral compass, and dancing as a private stripper for horny suburbanites doesn’t even register. Neither does hooking up with them afterward whenever the mood strikes—it’s one of the bennies of the job—but it’s always a one-and-done. I don’t do repeat performances. Ever.

Until I meet the one girl in all of Chicago not interested in dry humping my junk. She’s all I can think about, and that’s a problem, because I made sure she wants nothing to do with me. But I’ve seen her deepest secrets, her darkest fantasies, and they match mine to a fucking T.

I want her. Bad.

Now I need to show her how good it can feel…to be shameless.

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Chapter One

Jane

If such a thing as a Landlords of Chicago Convention existed, and said convention had an award for Worst Landlord of a Multi-Unit Building, mine would win by a landslide. A freaking landlord landslide.

Cursing his name for the umpteenth time in the last half hour, I wrap a Band-Aid around the cut in my thumb I’d acquired trying to unclog the pipes under my bathroom sink. God forbid Walter would actually do his job and call a plumber for me.

Since I’d moved into my small apartment in the South Shore area, my hot water heater, oven, and window A/C unit had all taken a crap at one point or another—just a few of the perks of living in a building so old that it predates the invention of the elevator—and each time it had taken Walter weeks to get them fixed.

But I’m nothing if not independent and self-reliant—traits born of being the child of workaholic parents. I’d managed to repair my garbage disposal and replace the tank assembly in my toilet by browsing the almighty Google and ignoring all my girly squeamishness at the ick factor of both. Neither instance had been pretty, but it wasn’t anything a hot shower and the satisfaction of a job well done couldn’t wash away.

Unfortunately, my stupid bathroom sink pipes aren’t going to be added to that list of accomplishments anytime soon. I don’t know if the slip nuts (thank you, Google Images) had been screwed on by the Incredible Hulk or fused in place by the lesser known supervillain Rust Man. Either way, those suckers aren’t budging for a mortal female with minimal experience handling a pipe wrench. (Feel free to insert dirty joke here.)

I glare at the standing water in the sink, hands on my hips, willing it to magically go down. I’m so focused on trying to Jedi-mind-trick the bastard into submission that I jump when my phone rings. Jogging into the living room, I snatch up the cell and answer as I plop onto the couch.

“Hey, you,” I say, greeting my best friend Addison Paige. “Aren’t you supposed to be burning the midnight oil?”

“It’s only seven p.m., but I’m sure I’ll still be here when midnight rolls around,” Addison says wryly. “You writing your paper?”

I laugh. Calling my masters thesis on social work a paper was like calling the Taj Mahal a chapel. I’ve been working on it for two years, and I’m almost—almost—done. Turning it in is the last step in getting my dual degree. Then I can finally get a job in my field and start making some real money instead of the piddly-ass wages I make as an intern and part-time waitress. (And then move.)

“Surprisingly, no,” I say. “I’m still trying to fix the clog in my bathroom sink, but all I’ve managed to do is pinch my thumb. Luckily, I managed to staunch the flow before I bled out all over the floor.”

“Damn good thing, because if you die before I get my fun friend back, I’ll kill you myself.”

“You know what I love about you?” I ask, laying the sarcasm on thick. “It’s that you make complete sense when you threaten me. I think it’s what makes you the best lawyer ever.”

“And I love that you love that about me. And also that you repeatedly tell me I’m the best lawyer ever instead of acknowledging my pathetic peon status. This boys club of a law firm isn’t going to give me my own cases anytime soon.”

“Nonsense. It’s only a matter of time before they see your brilliance and make you a partner,” I say with confidence. “Wait—since when am I not your ‘fun’ friend? I’m fun.”

“Seriously? When was the last time you went out? For fun. Not for school or work or any other life-sucking activity. Like, to a dance club or a bar or a fucking baseball game? I don’t know…anything.”

I open my mouth to respond with a list of all the things I’d done recently that qualified—because surely there is a list—but came up with nothing. I honestly can’t remember the last time I’d gone out to be social. I’ve hung out with Addison, but that was more lunch dates and Netflix than clubbing and cavorting.

“Um…”

“Exactly,” Addison crows.

Okay, so she’s not wrong. It’s been a while since I’ve had a social life and an even longer while since I’ve had a sex life, which makes me grateful she didn’t bring that particular nugget up. My recent hermit status may have slipped my notice, but I’m painfully aware of how long it’s been (for-freaking-ever) since I’ve been satisfied by someone other than myself.

Completing my masters coursework in two years instead of three, and then replacing school hours with work hours, doesn’t leave me with any time to invest in a relationship. I’m all for casual flings or even one-night stands, but the handful of forays hadn’t been worth shaving, much less the Brazilians I’d splurged on. After my last underwhelming sexual rendezvous, I decided that I wouldn’t drop trou for anyone else unless I’m positive it’ll be worth the pain of getting my pubic hair ripped out by the roots by a sadistic woman armed with strips of hot wax. If you’ve ever subjected yourself to that particular brand of cosmetic torture, you know that’s setting the bar for sexual excellence pretty high.

So while I wait for Mr. Mind-Blowing-In-The-Sack, I bought a Hitachi Magic Wand—God bless the misguided man who thought he designed a great neck massager—and became a frequent purveyor of internet porn.

That’s right. I’m a closet porn addict.

Don’t judge me. It gets the job done. With the right video, I can be turned on in minutes. Then, depending on my mood, I’ll either watch several to build the anticipation, or simply dive right in and get myself off in what I call an “express O.” Bing, bam, boom, done.

But like I said, it’s not something I’m ready to share with the class. Not even with Addison. Not because I think she’ll judge me—that girl is all for owning your freak flag and letting it fly—but because I’d inevitably have to answer questions about how often do I watch it (several times a week), and what kind do I like (the rougher, the better), and do I have a favorite porn star (hands down, James Deen). I’d just rather not get into the gory details of how I take the edge off my sexual frustrations, thank you very much.

“What’s it called when the lawyer is being an obnoxious asshat?” I ask my best friend. “Is it contempt? I find you in contempt of court, and I object. Your argument is erroneous. I don’t need a good time right now, I just need someone to fix my pipes.”

“Yeah, your lady pipes,” she jokes. “Things are probably just as rusted shut down there as they are under your sink.”

Actually, since I don’t use a dildo of any kind, it’s highly likely. “Okay, that’s it,” I say, laughing in spite of myself, “I’m hanging up. You need to get back to work, and I need to do anything other than talk to you at the moment.”

Sighing dramatically, Addison acquiesces. “Fine, killjoy. Does this mean you don’t want the number of a handyman who came highly recommended to me?”

I sit up a little straighter, perking up at the words “highly recommended.” Growing up in the digital age as I have, you’d think that I would trust online reviews of products and services. But things on the internet can be bought or faked. I’d much rather take the word of someone I know, and I’m ready to cry “uncle” and be done with this whole situation. “Who recommended him?”

“Rebecca, one of our paralegals. She said he’s worth every cent and more. I believe her exact words were ‘the best ever.’”

That sounds promising, so I grab the pen and pad of paper from the side table. “Okay, what’s the number? I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”

“One sec, I’ve got another call coming in. Hang on.” And with a click the line went silent.

I lean back on the couch, staring at the spidery ceiling paint, following the bigger cracks and admiring how they fan out with reckless abandon. Of course, they probably knew what I knew: no way was I standing on a ladder and painting upside down to fix them. When Addison clicks back over, I tell her, “All right. I’m ready for the number of my miracle plumber.”

“No need,” she replies. “I just called and paid in advance. Consider it an early birthday present. He’ll be there in about an hour.”

“What? It’s too late for anyone to be making house calls on a Friday night.”

“Riiiiight. Because everyone’s shit only breaks between the hours of eight and five on weekdays.” Addison is just as fond of sarcasm as I am. It’s one of the reasons we make such great friends.

“Point taken, but you still shouldn’t have called.” I hate it when she tries to pay for things. Peon or not, she makes a good living as a lawyer and likes to make up dumb reasons why I should let her pick up the tab on stuff. “My birthday’s not even for another six months.”

“So then it’s a half birthday present. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to look a gift-friend in the mouth? Have some wine, read a book, tweeze your eyebrows. I don’t care, as long as you let the man do what he’s hired for when he gets there, okay?”

“Yes, Mother,” I say with the tone of an audible eye roll. But then I add a sincere, “Thanks, Addie.”

“You’re welcome, babe. Oh, and make sure you call me tomorrow and tell me all the juicy details. Ciao!”

Before I can comment on the ridiculousness of anything involving a middle-aged man with plumber’s crack being “juicy,” she hangs up. Belatedly, I realize I never even got the name of the guy or his business. I almost call her back to ask, but figure it’s not a big deal. The odds of someone showing up coincidentally under false pretenses as a handyman in disguise are pretty much nil.

It’s been a long week, and that glass of wine Addison mentioned is suddenly calling my name.

Blowing out a deep breath, I stand and head to the kitchen where I have an open bottle of red. For once, I’m going to take my friend’s advice: enjoy a glass of wine and a book while I wait for the “best ever handyman” to arrive and do his thing. Now that I know help is on the way, I’m really looking forward to getting my pipes fixed.

Gina L. Maxwell is a full-time writer, wife, and mother living in the upper Midwest, despite her scathing hatred of snow and cold weather. An avid romance novel addict, she began writing as an alternate way of enjoying the romance stories she loves to read. Her debut novel, Seducing Cinderella, hit both the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists in less than four weeks, and she’s been living her newfound dream ever since.

When she’s not reading or writing steamy romance novels, she spends her time losing at Scrabble (and every other game) to her high school sweetheart, doing her best to hang out with their teenagers before they fly the coop, and dreaming about her move to sunny Florida once they do.

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Excerpt & Giveaway: One Last Shot by Gillian Jones

Title: One Last Shot(Pub Fiction 3)

Author: Gillian Jones

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: June 6, 2016

My name is Claire Knox.
People say I’m the female version of a player: a boyslayer, if you’re fluent in urban dictionary speak.
I hate long term relationships. I’ll never commit to sticking around long enough to get attached to the notion of love, marriage, or the proverbial two point five kids.
No sirree Not this girl.
There’s no way I’ll let myself get hurt by losing someone I love ever again.
Been there, felt that.
Consider me damaged goods if you will, but I'm happy.
Or so I thought, until my path crossed his again…

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Excerpt

Claire

Holy Jesus sittin’ on his rainbow, does Matt look delicious. He looks so fucking manly, incredibly sexy and completely all consuming like I remember. When he first called out my name, I swear my ovaries perked up like the mothership had arrived to bring us to planet Gonna Get My Rocks Off!

Fuckity fuck fuck. He’s actually here, and I know I’m in trouble. My kryptonite is facing me, his light brown eyes laced with flecks of mahogany. They rake over me, taking in my now wired body inch-by-inch. His gaze is heavy and painstakingly slow, igniting my skin with a warmth I’ve not experienced in a long time. God, I hope he likes what he sees. Wait, no. No, I don’t.

In mere seconds, this man is inciting a frenzy of emotions that prove exactly why I wasn’t ready to see him yet, proving that I needed more time before this reunion, confirming that he can easily annihilate all of my best-laid plans, the ones my brain has worked overtime convincing my heart to make. I need more time to make proper preparations, to ensure my bridge troll is ready for battle, that he is stable enough to keep the drawbridge strategically locked in place, ready to withstand the blunt force that is Matt Bishop.

Most of all, I want more time to practise the apology and then the time to actually apologize—to explain. Time to just tell him I’m sorry. Looking at him, feeling him, I realize I can’t risk more than that or I will be lost again.

Unfortunately, none of what my brain wants is happening right now. He’s here. And from the moment I set eyes on Matt, all I want is him, anyway I can have him.

Moving up from my neck, Matty whispers softly in my ear and my breath hitches: “Tell me, Claire, do you still taste sweet? Like sugar melting on my tongue, leaving that addicting-as-fuck strawberry ice cream taste running down my chin?” He tickles my memory, my throat forgetting how to swallow as he wets his tongue and moves it lightly over my earlobe, awakening the familiar pulse between my legs, the one that always builds with each of this man’s dirty words. “Christ, baby. You were so fucking good, my tongue licking up every single drop of juice that dripped from your hot tight cunt.” The timbre of his voice causes tingles to travel down my spine, the anticipation of where this is all going making my toes curl at the prospect. “I want to kiss you, Claire. Tell me it’s okay to kiss you.”

“Jesus, Matt.” I want to sag against him. His filthy words make my knees weak.

Matt squeezes my hips, pulling me flush to his strong body. Leaning in, he runs his mouth ever so softy along my neck before meeting my eyes again.

I step out of his hold, needing to give myself a bit of distance. But instead, I find myself staring at him, unable to look beyond the man of my past, the one I can’t seem to let go. The same one for whom my heart thumps erratically in my chest, the same one I wish almost daily I’d kept, the same one I don’t know if I can keep.

I can’t believe we’re back here.

Matt’s beyond the man-pretty guy I remembered. His chiseled jaw is highlighted by more than a five o’clock shadow. His lush lips are full, with that pouty bottom one making me want to tug on it because it’s so tauntingly perfect. He’s fucking ripped, too—Adonic, if you will. His plain white-t-shirt strains over his incredible shoulders, his defined chest and toned biceps. The telltale marks of tight abs pull my gaze as I make my slow perusal, visibly eye-fucking the shit out of him. God, I like what I see. A lot.

I want nothing more than to run my tongue along each dip and dive of this man’s body. Matty’s body was made for sin and I’d gladly volunteer as the sinner if it meant I’d get to repent at the shrine that is this man. I let out an almost audible moan as I stand lusting for all the things I want to do to him.

Matt pulls me back in tight, holding me close against him, laughing against my ear. “Like what you see, Claire?”

I’m busted. I’ve got drool stains all over the front of my shirt, no doubt.

Hell, yes. “It’s all right,” I shrug, but can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes my dumb-ass self as I’m caught.

“I think you do. Better yet, I know you fucking do and I know I affect you still, even now.”

“Jesus, Matt. Okay, yes, I guess you’re still kinda hot and maybe you do affect me just a little bit.” I give him an impish grin.

“Thank Christ for small miracles. And for the record, I can smell that it’s more than ‘a little’.”

“Matt!” I shove at his chest, feigning embarrassment. If it were anyone else I might have been, but not with Matt. No, with him I’ve only ever been comfortable, been myself.

Matt takes the remote off the bar, turning up Keith Sweat’s “Nobody”, the sound pumping through the speakers.

“Dance with me.” It’s not a request, but a command. Holy shit. This is happening. Matt Bishop, my Matty, is standing here, holding me tight in his arms after two years. There’s so much I need to say, want to say. But in this moment it’s obvious that words aren’t required, that this is what we both need from each other. Matt’s lips hover over mine.

“Can I kiss you now, Claire?”

 

About The Author

I'm a wife, mother, and a crazy Canadian, living in Ontario with the loves of my life-my amazing hubby and sweetest little boy. I'm Admittedly addicted to...my friends, red wine, and laughter. A lover of alpha males, hot sex, all coupled with the perfect side of angst topped off with the epic happily ever after.

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The Braille Club Unbound by J.A. Kerr

Title: The Braille Club Unbound (The Braille Club #2)

Author: J.A. Kerr

Genre: Erotic Suspense

Release Date: December 1, 2015

Publisher: Limitless Publishing

Synopsis

Welcome back to the Braille Club, home of blindfolded sensory delights designed to unleash your passions. New wonders await to heighten every sensation, for those adventurous enough to try…

Benedict Harrison and Siena Waters struggle to rebuild their lives…

Siena and Benedict—owner of the secret, exclusive Braille Club—face the trial of the man who brutally attacked her. Already fragile, crucial DNA results send Siena reeling, leaving her future with Benedict uncertain. Will their shared devotion to the Braille Club be enough to keep them together?

Guy Walker has spent two years trying to forget Anna Dunbar and their volatile affair…

Managing the Braille Club in Benedict’s absence, Guy is shocked when Anna applies for membership. Their dark desires are reawakened, but Anna resists, determined to remain faithful to her husband. When a desperate call from Anna sends Guy rushing to her door, he’s completely unprepared for what he finds.

Ford Munroe will help bring the Braille Club to a whole new level…

Tasked with developing new technologies to enhance the club’s erotic pleasures, Ford enlists engineer Esme MacDonald to assist him. As they test the devices, the attraction between them intensifies, delighting Ford but leaving Esme perplexed about her sexuality. Her revelation rocks Ford—is Esme really interested in him, or only the Braille Club?

Model Niven Fraser joins the Braille Club to exorcise her demons…

Left emotionally scarred by her step-brother Toby, Niven hopes to find healing through the club and her emerging friendship with Siena. But her past is about to catch up with her, bringing new dangers and old vendettas, putting her life and those around her in grave danger.

A blindfold can enrich an experience, but deadly threats are best faced with your eyes wide open. You decide—is it worth the risk to indulge in the Braille Club?

Purchase you copy today!

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About The Author

Hi there!

When I set out to write these books, I wanted to create something that mirrored exactly the kind of books I like to read. My favourites are always originals featuring strong male and female protagonists with attitude. Benedict is detached and an enigma until he meets Siena. She turns his world upside down and he suddenly reconnects. I can’t tell you how many readers tell me how they were gripped by their story. How they loved the originality of the Braille Club and the other two stories running through it. The book has a great mix of characters!

The Braille Club Series books are an interesting blend of genres. Although sensuality plays a big part, there is also intrigue and a touch of thriller.

I'm a dreamer, writer and wine drinker and not always in that order. With the publication of my books, I realised my ultimate dream of becoming a writer. This has been a rollercoaster ride with lots of highs and lows but I’ve loved every crazy second. My next adventure is into script writing where I hope to transform my book into a drama series. I love to connect. Be sure to drop by FB page or sign up to my newsletter http://bit.ly/1RawSm3 for exclusive giveaways, secret chapters and upcoming events.

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*Book Giveaway* - Unpredictable by C.A. Harms

Have you ever wished for a moment that you could pretend to live the life of someone else? Escape the harsh reality that your own is anything but perfect? 

Quinn Tucker had always been forced to put her own needs last. 

With an absent father and a mother who drowns herself daily in a bottle of Rum, there was no other option. 

Jett Jameson was the distraction Quinn needed, even if it was just for one night. 

A void filler, and a chance for a moment to allow herself to feel something other than emptiness. 

He wasn’t what she expected. 

Gentle. 

Her life didn’t have room for a man like Jett. 

Unpredictable. 

But now it was too late, there was no turning back. 

Desire. 

Nothing would ever be the same…

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About Author

A little about me. Let’s see where to start.
I love HEA stories, as long as they come packing a little heat. I need some excitement, some angst, and moments that make me fan my face are always good too. I am an Illinois girl, born and raised. Simple and true, it honestly doesn’t take much to make me happy. I love the little things; they truly mean the most. I may have a slight addiction to my new Keurig—oh my, that thing is a godsend. And so fast too. I have two children who truly are my very best friends, and their faces never fail to put a smile on my face. I have been married to my husband for sixteen years, and even though at times I want to beat him with a stick, I would never change the years we have had. We have learned and fallen, only to pick each other up, dust off the ache, and help each other make it right. 
I am one of those authors that adore my fans. I love to hear from you. After all, it is because of each one of you that I continue to write. I look forward to your feedback.
Be sure to follow me to stay up-to-date on all my upcoming releases.

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Cover Reveal - Fated Bliss by Cassie Strickland

Title: Fated Bliss (The Bliss Series, #2)

Author: Cassie Strickland

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: June 15, 2016

Synopsis

Ben

Those gold eyes were the first thing I noticed. I wanted more than anything to get lost in them, drown in her, to let go of my fears and doubts my past had left behind.
But it wasn’t just me I had to consider.
My son came first.
She's a force to be reckoned with, though. She was everywhere, in my dreams even, tempting me to throw caution to the wind.
And I was weak.
I gave into my clawing desire and let myself enjoy one night with her, having no clue she’d change me forever.
Once wasn't enough. I became addicted. I craved her – her scent, her skin, her smile, her eyes…her love.
I need Samantha.

Samantha

My life was uncomplicated. It was free and easy.
Then I met him, the man with the blue-violet eyes that entranced me.
I had a feeling I was making a big mistake when agreeing to one night of carnal bliss, but I was unable to walk away. I just couldn’t have foreseen how big of one it was.
He turned my world upside-down, working his way into my heart until it beat only for him. Now everything is complex, and there are secrets he’s not telling me.
Will he ever let me in?
Time would tell, but one thing is sure – I’d walk through hell and back, feel the blistering lick of each flame against my flesh, for just the promise of Ben.

Not intended for anyone under the age of eighteen due to language and sexual content.

Note from the author:
Fated Bliss is the second book in The Bliss Series, and though it is recommended to read Finding Bliss first, it’s not needed. Fated Bliss is a standalone novel with an HEA.

 

Excerpt

Ben cleared his voice, breaking the silence. “Is this you?”


I hadn’t realized we’d stopped outside my door.

“Oh…yeah.” My hands shook as I slipped my keycard from my clutch. I smiled at him as I opened the door. “Come on in. There’s a fully stocked bar inside.”

I didn’t give him a chance to say anything and ambled inside, expecting him to follow. I threw my purse on the dresser and continued to the bar, turning on lights as I went.

“Nice place,” Ben remarked behind me, closing the door.

“I know. My brother hooked me up,” I replied, grabbing two beers and opening them.

With my heart in my throat, I discarded the caps and spun around. Ben was standing at the mouth of the hall leading into the room, his shoulder to the wall, seemingly unsure. I continued to him and passed him the beer.

“Why don’t we have a seat,” I suggested, waving to the couch in front of the floor to ceiling windows.

Why was I so nervous?

You already know why, Sam.

You. Do. Not. Do. This!

Before I could turn back around, Ben grabbed my hand and plucked my beer from my grip. He placed the beers on the dresser next to my clutch, slowly maneuvering me until my back was pressed against the wall. I swallowed thickly and peered up at him. With two hands next to my head, he caged me in and crowded me.

He sighed slowly and then played with a strand of my hair between two fingers. “Samantha…”

I felt like this needed to be said, so I blurted, “I don’t do this.”

He flashed me his pearly whites and replied, “I know. I can tell. But you’re not the only one out of your element here, sweetheart. This is the first time I’ve followed a woman back to her place.”

My forehead scrunched with shock and disbelief. “Really?”

His head descended, and though I expected him to kiss me, he merely rested his forehead against mine. I could detect a hint of beer on his breath, but surprisingly, it was tantalizing. I wanted to close the distance so badly that I'd sell my soul for just one sip from his lips.

Ben groaned, “You weren’t supposed to happen.”

“Why not?” I whispered, confused.

Talking was the last thing I wanted to do. Everything in me ached for him.

“When I came here…” He leaned closer and pressed his cheek to mine, inhaling deeply. My legs shook. “You weren’t in my plans. I couldn’t have foreseen such a stunning,” he placed his lips to the underside of my ear, “captivating,” his teeth nipped my jaw, “completely tempting woman.” His tongue snuck out as he nibbled down my neck, causing my knees to turn to rubber. “You’ve knocked me on my ass, Samantha. I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing.”

I shuddered, letting my head fall back, opening myself up for his exploration. “I wasn’t expecting you either, Ben. I’m in over my head, too.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he stated, his voice jagged, though his actions were contradictory. His hands traveled down to my waist, his fingers digging in deep to keep me anchored in place. “I can walk out of here. All you have to do is tell me.”

No chance in hell.

“Don’t you dare, Ben.”

“I want to make promises. I want to say I’ll see you tomorrow and the next day and the next. I want-”

“Shhh. Don’t, Ben. Don’t say those things to me.”

Promises were the last thing I needed. My heart couldn’t handle it once this was over if he made any.

“See… I know you’re not the type of girl that does this.” He drew the shell of my ear between his teeth and bit down lightly. I whimpered. “You’re sucking me in, sweetheart, just like I’m doing to you. Something’s bound to go wrong, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

Shamelessly, not wanting him to move, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held tight. “Nothin’ needs to go wrong. I don’t expect anythin’ after tonight, so you can’t hurt me.”

I might be slightly sore once this was over, but he was worth it.

Just for the night…

“You’re lying, sweetheart.” He pulled back a little, taking his lips from my skin, and peered down at me, his eyes ravenous. “We’re both going to be bruised and bloody come tomorrow.”

“Why, Ben?” I questioned.

“Because, baby girl, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

His words had power over me, and breathlessness left me lightheaded. “Ben…” I moaned, and my lids fluttered closed.


“Fuck it,” he growled, and then his lips crashed into mine.

About The Author

Cassie Strickland lives in East Texas with her husband, her daughter, and her Jack Russell terrier. With the support of her family and friends, she recently changed her career path to something new and exciting, something she loves to do - writing.

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DIDN'T I WARN YOU

Bad for You #1

Amber Bardan

Releasing 

April 18th, 2016 (Digital), May 24th (Print)

Carina Press

April 18th, 2016 (Digital), May 1st 2016 (Print)

Harlequin Australia

Not everything dangerous is bad. 

From the moment Angelina laid eyes on him, she fell into a fantasy. Mysterious, foreign, gorgeous, Haithem offered her what she needed most—a chance to feel again.

But Haithem is much more than he appears to be. He lives in a world of danger where everything comes at a price.

For Angelina, that price is her future. 


He's made sure the life she's left behind is in tatters. Made her family believe she's dead. Still, he talks about protecting her, about keeping her safe, but she can't distinguish his truth from his lies. She can't separate her pleasure from his betrayal.

Haithem warned her. He told her he'd make her heart race, her body come alive and her most primal needs rush to the surface. His for the taking.

He didn't say she'd come to love the devil who's destroying her, even as he keeps her prisoner.

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“I swear—you never existed. I never met you at all.”

His gaze flicked to my touch, and stuck there as though the touching of him was not something that was usually done. His expression shivered and whatever I thought I saw vanished. He rose to his feet. “I’m afraid a promise made under duress is no promise at all.”

“What do you mean, duress?” I leaped off the bed.

He strode for the door. Apparently, he thought our conversation was over. Pity—I wasn’t done. I followed him onto the deck.

Salty air swept hair across my face.

“It’s not as if you’ve threatened me, so I’m not under duress.”

He paused, pushed the notepad into his pocket and turned. “You think someone has to hold a gun to your head for you to be helpless?” His movements changed, went sharp yet somehow also slinky. He walked—not to me but around me. “I have all the power, all the say. And you—” he pointed his finger directly at me “—you, Angel, are a scared girl who wants to go home.”

His words whipped me like lashings from the wind. Painful, cutting lashes that made me want to cry. He stalked me, closing his circle just as surely as a shark. My veins spurted adrenaline, instinct compelling me to run.

But I didn’t run. That would break the dubious politeness he’d affected, and this small glimpse at what lay underneath was enough to shake the skin around me.

There was nowhere to run. He’d catch me, and—god help me—I might even enjoy it.

I might enjoy something so real and so raw as being caught, even if it hurt. No polite control. Nothing proper or respectable. Just real.

He walked and walked, round and around. My neck strained to keep up with him. I couldn’t drop my gaze, couldn’t let him out of my peripheral vision.

“You owe me nothing. I expect nothing from you. I trust no promises from you.” His voice softened, whispered around me from what felt like all directions. He stopped directly behind me, his hands coming down on my shoulders so I couldn’t turn. “But this doesn’t have to be a nightmare. It doesn’t have to be a trap or a prison.” He pulled me back against him, and suddenly his arms were around me and the beast was gone, replaced instead by a comforting protector.

My pulse jumped. How quickly he could change.

“This isn’t fair. For that, I owe you, and I always honor my debts.”

I’d slipped into hyperawareness—of the arm around my waist, the body at my back, the voice in my ear. I could almost see myself in his arms, standing like a waxwork, so still and glassy-eyed. Mesmerized.

“I saw your face when you told me you’re smothered so tightly you can’t breathe,” he whispered. “You could be free…” He brushed his cheek against my temple. “No one around. You could be yourself.”

He rocked me, so softly I almost missed the shift of my weight from one side to the other. I no longer knew if I was holding myself up.

“I can give you sunsets on the ocean. I can show you space so endless you’ll lose yourself.”

My hair caught on his bristles.

“Have you ever run down a deserted beach, Angel?” His hand moved on my belly. “Have you ever swum naked in salt water?” His voice penetrated my head, my blood, sinking down somewhere even deeper.

“Imagine three weeks where anything you ask will be indulged. All your demands met. Ask me for something—ask me for anything.”

My eyes closed.

“Do you need someone to hear you?” His word curled into my ear so gently, I felt the heat of his body in his breath. “I’ll listen to you talk for days.”

He touched my chest, pressed his palm flat against me.

I twitched.

“You can tell me what it is you keep buried in here. What you’re holding on to so tightly that you can’t let go. You can give it all to me, Angel. Just hand it all over to me…”

Air flooded my lungs, and I lunged out of his grasp. My heart beat so fast, I could imagine coronary damage taking place. I turned and faced him, backing out of reach.

Had I let him read me so thoroughly? Had I laid out my weakness so well that he could drive himself into my head and fuck me there?

Because that’s what he was doing—he was fucking my mind. I knew it. He knew it.

It was working

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After spending years imagining fictional adventures, Amber Bardan finally found a way to turn daydreaming into a productive habit. She now spends her time in a coffee-fueled adrenaline haze, writing romance with a thriller edge.

She lives with her husband and children in semi-rural Australia, where if she peers outside at the right moment she might just see a kangaroo bounce by.

Amber is an award winning writer, Amazon Bestselling Author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild, and Writers Victoria.

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