Spotlight Post – By Her Touch by Adriana Anders

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Blurb:

Undercover cop Clay Navarro left the Sultans biker gang a changed man. Its ringleaders may be awaiting trial, but he wears the memory of every brutal act he was forced to commit tattooed across his skin. He doesn’t have space in his messed-up life for anything gentle—not now, maybe not ever.

Dr. Georgette Hadley is drawn to the damaged stranger’s pain, intimidated but intrigued by the warmth that lies beneath Clay’s frightening exterior. But when the Sultans return looking for revenge, she finds herself drawn into the dirty underbelly of a life forged in violence…that not even her touch may be able to heal.

Excerpt:

This time, George was ready when he arrived. Sort of.

It had been a busy day spent trying to catch up on Friday’s missed appointments, which was good, since her mind had spent an uncomfortable amount of time going back to him.

All day, she’d fended off questions about the bruises and anticipated his arrival with the

most unwelcome combination of excitement and apprehension, building it up so that, by the time his form blocked out the low evening sunlight, she had decided more or less how to proceed. No casual talk and no mention of Saturday night, besides a well-deserved

thanks. Professional, strict.

That, of course, translated to stiff, which probably only made her seem nervous. A complete failure in bedside manner.

“Evening, Doc.”

George shivered. That voice. Rougher than she was used to, lower, without any hint of local Virginia twang.

“Mr. Blane.” He loitered in the doorway. “Come in, come in.” Great, now she sounded like a little old woman, enticing him with tea and cookies. Or something.

“How you feeling tonight, Doc?”

“Wonderful.”

“That’s quite a shiner you got there.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, tired of explaining the thing all day and not wanting to relive it with him right now, either.

The man moved inside, limping—which reminded her that he’d run back to the motel the other night—and finally pulled off his glasses, baring sharp, assessing eyes beneath two bright red, puffy lids, greased up.

At least he followed directions.

He stepped forward, hand out, and George hesitated, thinking for a second that he might… What? Kiss her? Hug her? Lord, she was messed up.

“I owe you some money, Doc.”

“Oh. No. Thank you,” she said. “You saved me from…from a world of hurt. I can’t accept your money.”

“Look, Doc, I—”

“Mr. Blane. Please,” she said, her breathing loud in her ears.

His eyes flicked between hers, measuring, weighing, and finally, apparently, deciding she wasn’t bluffing.

He gave in, lowered his chin in a single quick nod, then asked, “Where d’you want me, Doc?”

“Come on back,” she said, trying so hard to sound like the doctor she was, suddenly wishing she hadn’t insisted on seeing him this late, all alone, with her staff long gone.

As she led him to the last exam room on the right, George pretended he was just another patient—an urticaria needing steroid cream, a full-body skin check, or a mole to biopsy.

When she turned back at the door, though, and caught him eyeing her bottom or her legs,

hidden though they were by her trousers, her body reacted in a way that showed it knew the difference between him and everyone else, even if her mind didn’t care to. Just that look, that slide of his eyes over layers of clothing, dragged her into a morass of sexuality that she’d managed for years to avoid.

His gaze went up to her face, and she saw his eyes change, watched their warm brown darken to black, and the muscle in his jaw tighten. “Didn’t realize they’d got your face so bad.”

“Oh,” she said, her hand flying back to the telltale bruise. “It really is fine. No big deal.”

“You call the cops after I left?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” And then, because she didn’t want to talk about it any longer, she said, “Your eyes look good.”

“You call this good?” He shook his head wryly.

“You’re one weird lady.”

“I know it hurts, but it’s doing what it should. Red, blistering. Now, let’s get your shirt off, Mr. Blane,” she said, dodging his gaze. And that sentence—her stupidly chosen words—heightened her body’s fall into unwanted sensuality.

Wonderful. Just great. After all her careful planning and preparation. Rather than look at him as he stripped, George busied herself prepping the already-prepped room, her mind hunting for words that didn’t contain subtext within subtext, with even more subtext

lurking beneath.

“Remembered the burning hair last time, Doc.”

Behind her came the sound of clothing being removed.

“So I shaved my chest.”

Oh, that did it. Her eyes, evil creatures, bypassed her brain’s directives entirely and slithered right to where her body wanted them—on that chest. Good Lord, that chest. She’d spent all weekend thinking about that chest.

Below his clavicles, he was so unfeasibly flat and broad, she’d need a half-dozen

hands to span it. And strong. Still lower, the muscles curved out, hard and male and

sexual in a way that pectorals shouldn’t be—they really shouldn’t. And then the thought of her bare hands, right there, touching his freshly shaven skin…

George swallowed audibly in the quiet room and reached for her gloves. A barrier.

“’S that okay? You hadn’t mentioned body hair last time, but I figured it’d make it easier.”

“Oh, yes, that’s wonderf—”

Another attempted swallow over dry, dry throat. “I mean, you did the right thing.

In fact, I should have told you.” Her throat clicked again, and before her tongue managed to talk her straight into some sort of absurd 1980s porn scenario, George threw the switches on the machine. It would drown her out.

And him, thank God.

By Her Touch Graphic

Adriana Anders has acted and sung, slung cocktails and corrected copy. She’s worked for start-ups, multinationals and small nonprofits, but it wasn’t until she returned to her first love—writing romance—that she finally felt like she’d come home. Today, she resides with her tall French husband, two small children and fat French cat in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, where she writes the dark, gritty, steamy love stories of her heart.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ogHdkD

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iBooks: http://apple.co/2ogA9Ey

Spotlight Tour – Wild Ride by Julie Ann Walker

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The hero we’ve all been waiting for… 

Ethan “Ozzie” Sykes

Former Navy SEAL

Underground operator for Black Knights Inc., the covert government defense firm disguised as a custom motorcycle shop

In a black-on-black international mission that went seriously sideways, Ozzie was badly injured—now he’s stuck at BKI headquarters in Chicago, champing at the bit to get out into the field again. To his disgust, he’s tasked with distracting Chicago Tribune ace reporter Samantha Tate, who’s been trying to dig up the dirt on BKI for years. Turns out Samantha’s beauty, intelligence and sense of humor are a seriously big distraction, and Ozzie’s losing his desire to keep her at bay.

Ozzie’s tired of hiding, and Samantha may be the best—and worst—person to share his secrets with… 

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2npgv9L

B&N: http://bit.ly/2cU2azC

iBooks: http://apple.co/1UEXsjG

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Excerpt:

Full situational awareness…

It was a phrase the Navy SEALs used to describe an operator’s ability to focus on a million things at once and quickly come to conclusions about who or what in his environment posed a potential problem. As far as Ozzie could figure, his environment posed three potential problems.

The first was Janie. She was gearing up to make another pass at him. He could see it in her come-and-get-me-big-boy stare. And what the hell was Gloria thinking? That he was some toy to be passed around? Sure, he deserved an ass-kicking for not immediately recognizing her. But in his defense, they’d only had sex once. And besides being a brunette back then, she’d also been about twenty pounds heavier. And just to be clear, she was the one who never called him back.

Pretty much the story of my life, he thought, quickly followed by, Damn you, self-pity!

His second problem was Samantha. Something was off with her. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but then he’d detected the edge in her voice, the slight trembling of her lips. Both subtle tells had increased exponentially after she read that text message. Not good. The woman was like one of those damned truffle pigs when it came to sniffing out trouble, and the thought of her pretty neck on someone’s chopping block had anger burning low in his belly and fear crawling up his spine like a poisonous spider.

And then there was problema número tres, otherwise known as the big, burly biker who had shouldered his way into the bar. He was wearing the colors of the Basilisk MC, one of Chicago’s true-blue motorcycle clubs, and the expression on his face said he hadn’t come in for a drink. He was searching for someone. His eyes were barely visible between his shaggy hairline and the dark beard that grew up over his cheeks, but they zeroed on Samantha’s back as she made her way down the long hall leading to the restrooms, making it seem that he’d found his quarry.

Ozzie’s heart rate spiked, the feeling as familiar as breathing. The blood rushing through the injured muscles of his thigh caused them to twitch, and the resulting pain was also now as familiar as breathing. He tried to take comfort in that. Pain meant life. He should be grateful to still be alive. He was grateful to still be alive. Even if it appeared that his life wasn’t going to be anything like what he had planned or hoped.

“Heads up,” he murmured casually.

“I see him.” Christian took a slow sip of his beer as they watched the biker skirt around tables until he stopped at the high-top closest to the mouth of the hallway.

“Hard to tell what he’s packing beneath his cut,” Ozzie observed. Cut was the term bikers used to describe the jackets that sported their colors and patches. Those colors and patches not only told the world which MC the rider was affiliated with, but also who the rider was within the MC and the various things the rider had done for the MC. According to this dude’s patches, he was the sergeant at arms, the enforcer for the Basilisks, and he’d killed for his club. More than once.

Well, piss, shit, and suck a potato dick.

“Judging by the size of that bulge,” Christian speculated, his accent thickened with adrenaline as he nonchalantly unhooked his heels from the brass footrail and prepared to make a move, “I should think it’s either a small sidearm or a bloody big knife.”

“Trouble brewing?” Delilah asked beneath her breath, coming over to them and pretending to wipe down the bar. “First time I’ve ever had a Basilisk in my place.”

“You still got that sawed-off back there?” Ozzie asked. One of the many things they all appreciated about Delilah was the shotgun with the aftermarket shortened barrel she was known to keep behind the bar.

A faint smile curved her lips. “Wouldn’t leave home without it.”

“Good,” he told her. “If shit goes sideways, I want you to grab that scatter gun and duck down behind the bar.”

“But—” she started, only to have Christian cut her off.

“Oy. Shut your gobs. Here comes Samantha.” When Christian got really worked up, a little cockney slipped into his highbrow London speech.

But Samantha wasn’t coming. Oh, no. She was running. Running out the door leading to the alley like the place was burning down behind her.

Author Information: 

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Julie Ann Walker is the USA Today and New York Times Bestselling Author of the Black Knights Inc. romantic suspense series. She is prone to spouting movie quotes and song lyrics. She’ll never say no to sharing a glass of wine or going for a long walk. She prefers impromptu travel over the scheduled kind, and she takes her coffee with milk. You can find her on her bicycle along the lake shore in Chicago or blasting away at her keyboard, trying to wrangle her capricious imagination into submission. For more information, please visit www.julieannwalker.com or follow her on Facebook www.facebook.com/jawalkerauthor and/or Twitter @JAWalkerAuthor.

Blog Tour – Fighting Attraction by Sarah Castille

FIGHTING ATTRACTION by SARAH CASTILLE

CVR Fighting Attraction

FIGHTING ATTRACTION (REDEMPTION #4)

By Sarah Castille

Contemporary Erotic Romance

Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca

Published 04/04/17

BOOK DESCRIPTION: 

My sweet, sexy Penny has a dark side. Just like me.

I will have her. And then I will lose her, and suffer a lifetime of regret.

Rampage. Everyone loves him. He is Redemption’s top heavyweight fighter and the biggest gossip in the gym. But he isn’t the teddy bear everyone thinks he is. He’s hiding a dark secret-and he hates himself for it.

Twice a week, Rampage transforms into Master Jack, a notorious dom only the most hard-core submissives will play with. How can he-a Southern gentleman, bred to respect and protect women-want to dominate them?

But Penny Worthington wants him. Beneath her pearls, kitten heels, and prim British exterior beats a tortured heart…Master Jack is the only one who can set her free.

PRE-ORDER LINKS:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2jvBTuD

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2jkEDZA

B&N: http://bit.ly/2j5qgYa

iTunes: http://apple.co/2iKwXkv

Google Books: http://bit.ly/2jsS5NG

BAM: http://bit.ly/2j5oB4J

Redemption Series

Against the Ropes

In Your Corner

Full Contact

Fighting Attraction 

PRAISE for Sarah Castille’s Redemption series:

“Powerful. Gritty. And sexy beyond belief. Sarah is a true master!”-Opal Carew, New York Times bestselling author of His to Claim 

“Hilarious, hot and occasionally heartbreaking. I loved it! ” – Maryse’s Book Blog on Against the Ropes

“Castille’s follow-up to the excellent Against the Ropes doesn’t pull its punches.” – Publishers Weekly, starred review for In Your Corner 

“Emotionally charged, amazingly sexy, and flat out fantastic.”-Fresh Fiction on Full Contact 

What is Penny’s favorite music? Death Metal

EXCERPT: 

Jack “Rampage” Caldwell is the first MMA fighter I created for the Redemption series, and even when I first brought this Southern gentleman to life, I knew he had a secret. But Penny has a dark secret, too. After Jack discovers what she hides from the world, he makes her promise to come to him if she needs him. But trust doesn’t come easily for Penny. She breaks her promise, never expecting that Jack will find out. But, of course, he does…and crossing a sadist is never a good idea! 

“I’ll call you back. Jack is here.”

Cora sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ll see you at class tonight. I can hardly wait to hear all about it.”

I end the call and swallow past the lump in my throat. It’s only been three days, and yet it feels like I haven’t seen Jack in forever. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that clings to his taut, muscle-ridged abdomen, and worn jeans that ride low on his narrow hips.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my gaze above his belt.

He pins me with a direct stare, his eyes fierce and hard. I feel like he’s trying to see into my soul, but my heart is pounding so hard I’m not sure enough oxygen is getting to my brain to make any sense of what’s going on.

“Jack?”

His gaze rakes over my body, lingering on my thighs as if he can see beneath my skirt. He tenses, and his eyes narrow. If I didn’t know X-ray vision was impossible, I would swear he knows I broke my promise.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.” My pulse kicks up a notch. “Everyone’s out for the rest of the afternoon.”

He takes a step toward me, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

“Lock the door.”

A thrill of fear shoots through me, and sweat beads on my forehead. What if he knows? Or suspects? What will he do?

“Now.” His deep, commanding Dom voice ripples through me, fanning the flames of my desire. Do I trust Jack enough to lock myself in the office with him, especially when I know what is coming? Do I trust myself?

I brush past him and lock the front door.

“Your office,” he snaps after I return.

I jump at his sharp tone and scramble out of his way as he brushes past me and through my office door, a lithe and powerful animal herding its prey.

“What’s going on?”

“Stand in front of the desk.” He gestures to the big oak desk Amanda and I refinished when we first moved into the building.

Puzzled, I do as he asks, my breath catching in my throat when he closes and locks the door behind him.

“Jack?”

He gives me his back as he draws the curtains at the side of my office. “Don’t move.”

A sting of disappointment hits me in the chest. Has he come to reject me all over again? Does he want to make sure I understand there is nothing between us? It shouldn’t bother me because I got the message the other night. I’m nothing. Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary. Not worth his time, especially since he’s on the cusp of fame. I’m just his pal. Plain old quirky Pen. But he doesn’t have to be so cold.

Worthless, no-good piece of shit. 

No. No. No. My fingers tighten on the lip of the desk. I haven’t even started to heal from last night. I don’t need the past intruding on the present.

Jack leans against the door across from me, thick arms folded over his massive chest.

“Lift your skirt.”

Shock steals my breath away, and all I can do is stare.

“What?”

“You heard me. Lift your skirt. Now.”

Bang. Bang. Bang. My heart thuds frantically against my ribs. Adrenaline pounds through my veins, and I feel a rush of heat between my legs. He knows. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice…

“Why?” I whisper, stalling. And why is this turning me on?

“You know why,” he snaps. “You didn’t keep your promise.”

I smooth my hands over my cream skirt, silky underneath with a cotton macramé overlay, pressing it tight against my thighs. “It doesn’t matter if I kept it or not. We’re not in the club. There’s nothing between us. You made that clear the other night.”

“I fucked up the other night.” He shifts his stance. “I’m not good for you, Pen. You need to be with someone normal. A nice guy who’s going to treat you right and doesn’t want to hurt you.”

My hand fists on my thigh. “I don’t like nice guys. They don’t understand me. They’re too gentle. My life is about pain. Emotional and physical pain. It’s what I know, what I understand, what I need.”

“So you hurt yourself?”

“I didn’t—”

He cuts me off with a scowl. “Don’t lie to me.” He pauses, and his voice takes on a deeper, cutting edge. “Show me.”

My mouth goes dry at his abrupt command, and I fiddle with the edge of my skirt, at once indignant that he would try to boss me around and aroused that he did.

“What if I did?” I say defiantly. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

His corded throat tightens when he swallows, and he fixes me with a level stare. “I’ll give you what you need.”

All the air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I feel a disconcerting wetness between my thighs. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m at work.”

“Try me.”

Electricity sparks in the air between us, and a curious mix of fear and arousal courses through my veins. Stiffening my spine, I curl my fingers under the edge of my skirt and draw it slowly, painfully slowly up my thighs. Jack stills. His eyes flick down and then back up again. He licks his lips, and his eyes darken.

I have awakened the beast.

Fighting Attraction graphic

Fighting Attraction is the fourth book in a full-length, standalone, award-winning series by New York Times bestselling author, Sarah Castille, featuring deliciously sexy MMA fighters and the women who can’t help but love them.

Author photo_ Sarah Castille

AUTHOR LINKS

TWITTER: https://twitter.com/sarah_castille

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WEBSITE: http://www.sarahcastille.com

Spotlight Tour – Beautiful Mess by Kasey Lane

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When attorney Jami Dillon strides into the conference room to meet her new client, she’s stopped in her tracks by an all-too familiar figure. Jackson Paige. He’s her tall, tattooed, and sexy as hell hook up from law school—who also broke her heart.

Hell’s bells.

Jackson Paige was, in fact, Jax Pain, the drummer of Manix Curse.

That thing in Jami’s chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. 

Jackson Paige, aka Jax Pain, has worked hard to put that unfor-frickin-gettable fling behind him and the nasty secret that made him leave her. Truth is, life as the playboy drummer of Portland’s hottest metal band hasn’t helped him to forget the fiery, sexy woman who stole his heart. Lucky for him, Jami was just hired as his band’s new attorney. But when he sees the look on her face when she realizes who her new client is, Jax wonders if maybe being this close to her again isn’t such a great idea. The explosive chemistry is there, but so are the dark secrets…

Excerpt:

“Did he just wrap a pair of women’s underwear around his wrist before going up on stage?”

Jami turned slowly, still in a Jax-induced haze. Ella and Gabby stood behind her. Oh shit, had they witnessed the whole scene play out between her and Jackson? That was exactly why she shouldn’t be here. Why she had to stay away from him. He was dangerous. He made her think wearing a short denim skirt, heels, and a tiny top were good ideas. That coming to a heavy metal show in downtown Portland was a good idea. Or that letting a tattooed, pierced, six-foot-four wall of narrow, twisting muscle wrap her hair around his fist in a packed bar and kiss her breathless was a good idea.

It wasn’t. Not a good idea. Definitely a very bad idea.

She stared at her friends. What had Ella asked her?

Behind her, a guitar began to play a slow, pulsing melody. Soft, sweet, building to something bigger. More solid.

The steady beat of a bass drum. Then more drums.

Ella and Gabby pointed to something on the low stage behind Jami. The band. Of course, the band was starting. More specifically, Jackson’s band, her client, Manix Curse, were beginning their set. Her heart dropped into her belly. She swiveled around, her eyes tracking the hundreds of hands with their fingers held up in heavy-metal salutes.

The lone spotlight shone down on the tall and shirtless Marco Dane as he tossed back his mane and bellowed to the sky about the cruelty of love. His perfect torso was already glossy with the sheen of sweat. But it was the tall, rangy man beating the drums with feral efficiency that made her blood boil with prurient lust. His head hung low, but his short, messy hair was already dark with sweat despite the fans circulating air around the stage. Conner leaned into a mic in front of Mandi and they joined the chorus.

Jami watched in awe, mesmerized by the pure raw power of the four band members and how seamlessly yet viciously they tore apart and reconstructed the song. She’d never seen anything like it. Never heard any band with such vitality and brutality, and yet a dash of melody. Even in her wilder youth, when she’d snuck into every concert and club possible, she’d never seen anything quite like Manix Curse.

Not one for crowds or other people actually touching her, Jami barely registered the audience members pushing into her, clamoring for a closer look at Manix Curse. Or even the couple of losers who attempted gropes before Ella—or she assumed it was Ella—slapped away a restless, errant hand.

The band abruptly ended their song and the crowd went wild, screaming their names and favorite songs into the chaos.

Marco growled into the mic, and the women in the crowed squealed. “You guys here to see Manix Curse?”

The crowd screamed louder.

“You here to rock the fuck out?”

They yelled louder still.

Then Jackson raised his head and searched the crowd. The smirk that transformed his face when his eyes locked on Jami’s could only be described as wolfish. The voice in her head began to whisper again, filling her with all kinds of dark and dirty thoughts. Because gone was the laid-back, easygoing Jackson everyone knew. In his place was the man she’d met years before.

Sexy.

Dangerous.

Pure sin.

And her blood turned from liquid into steam and evaporated from her body, leaving her a hollow shell of need.

He flipped his sticks around his fingers in a manner that, for some unexplained reason, made her wet. Then he pointed one stick at her, and sure enough her freaking panties were wrapped around his wrist like some ridiculous rock-and-roll talisman. People turned to stare at her, obviously wondering what, or who, had caught the playboy drummer’s eye, but she just stared at him.

 

beautiful-mess

Award-winning debut author KASEY LANE writes sexy romances featuring music, hot guys with ink, kick ass women, and always a happily ever after. A California transplant, she lives with her high school crush turned husband, two smart, but devilish kids, two Papillions, three cats, and several chickens in the lush Oregon forest.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2lD3SHA

B&N: http://bit.ly/2lCZCrN

iBooks: http://apple.co/2lCZFDZ

Book Spotlight – Reckless Hearts by Heather Van Fleet

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Title: Reckless Hearts

Author: Heather Van Fleet

Series: Reckless Hearts, #1

ISBN: 9781492637165

Pubdate: February 7, 2017

Genre: Contemporary

Three alpha men and a baby.

What could possibly go wrong?

From boot camp to the Iraqi desert, best friends Collin, Max, and Gavin have been through hell and back. But these rugged Marines might need help facing their biggest challenge: raising Collin’s nine-month-old daughter, Chloe.

After the death of his girlfriend in an accident, Collin Montgomery has sworn off serious relationships. His buddies have his back—and convince him it’s okay to cut loose sometimes. Enter the hottest, smartest girl he’s ever met. But what he really needs is a nanny.

Addison Booker needs a job desperately—and fast. She shows up to interview for the nanny position only to find the sexy, cocky man she can’t get out of her head. Collin knows hiring her is a bad idea—they disagree about almost everything—but Addison is so good with little Chloe. And there’s no substitute for chemistry, right?

BUY LINKS:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ducrEl

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2dfCqwm

iBooks: http://apple.co/2dlJYMa

Excerpt:

To curb the anxiety brewing hot inside me, I grabbed Addie by the wrist and marched her to the door.

“Hey, watch it.” She clawed at my hand, only making me want to hang on tighter.

“What is your deal, Collin?”

“It’s time for you to go.” I kept hold of her arm, but not as tight, and grabbed her coat, shoving it against her chest.

“What’d I do this time?” She lifted her chin—always lifting her damn chin. Taking pride to a level I wasn’t even capable of most days anymore.

“Nothing.” I let go of her arm, my hands itching to grab her and pull her close.

Instead, I walked to the door and unlatched the lock.

“Oh no. Don’t think so, buddy.” She threw her coat and her hat onto the floor, crossing her arms just under her breasts. “If I’m going to work for you, we need to set some ground rules.”

I tightened my hands into fists, fingernails digging into my palms. One step forward, then two, and she was in front of me, one eyebrow arched. Her curled lips saying I won’t back down. And damn I didn’t want her to. She messed with me, all fire and sass. And it made me fucking hot.

“You are the most ungrateful son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my life, and if you really and truly want me to be your child’s nanny, then you better cut the attitude or else I’m gonna—”

“Stop talking.” Couldn’t help myself. I had to do it. So I grabbed her waist and yanked her to my chest, while clutching the bottom of her shirt with my other hand. Eyes wide and lips parted, I took what I wanted and kissed her. Hard. Unforgivingly. Relentlessly.

And holy shit.

I mean, holy.

Shit.

That kiss was so much. But it wasn’t enough—never would be enough either. Not until I had her against the wall, touching her anywhere she’d let me touch her. Skin on skin, flesh on flesh. Just once, that’s all I’d ask for. I wasn’t a greedy man, just needy and desperate for the only woman who’d ever mind-fucked me before she actually fucked me.

Fighting against every instinct I had, I used my tongue to explore, only to feel her arms wrap around my neck and her fingers dig into my scalp in response.

With her reaction, my restraint snapped in half.

I walked her backward. She obliged, hands desperate and tight as she clung to me. Warm body soft against mine, pliant and so damn sexy. Almost as needy as my own.

My knee went between her thighs as I pushed her back against the door. She moaned against my lips, the sound going straight to my cock. Her tongue was wet, my brain was fuzzy, but I needed this. I needed her.

I lifted her higher, her legs going right around my waist. She sucked my tongue into her mouth, and I lowered my hands to her ass, squeezing. The skirt she wore rode up higher and higher as she writhed against me, until nothing but her panties pressed against my jeans. She shivered as I rocked her pussy up and down against my cock.

Hot. Tight. Warm. That’s exactly how I imagined she’d be if I sank inside her.

She tipped her head back, bumping it against the wood. Her breathing was frantic, her chest rising and falling in time with my own. I lowered my mouth to her neck, kissing and sucking her skin. She tasted clean, fresh, and I groaned low in my throat, wanting nothing more than to bite her, mark her. Make her mine for just one night.

“Collin,” she whispered, her body trembling as she moved. I rocked her harder against me, sure I was going to come from the friction of the movement alone.

“Please,” she cried out, dry humping my cock like it was all she’d ever need again. And if this was the last woman I ever made come, I’d damn sure not regret it.

“Ain’t gonna stop. Wanna make you feel good.”

I’d been an ass all night to the girl. The least I could do was get her off…and enjoy myself at the same time.

She leaned forward, whimpering as she buried her forehead against my neck. I shut my eyes, blocking out everything around us and inhaling her hair, a smell I’d never forget.

Sweat dripped down my temples as I guided her up and down my length. My hands, as greedy as my lips, now digging tighter into her ass over her skimpy panties.

“Jesus. Addie.”

She shuddered at my words, moving faster, softly crying through what I knew was a quick release.

Damn, did I love that sound. Hadn’t realized how much I missed it until it came from her. And I wanted to hear it again, until she cried out my name next time, loud as hell so the world would know I’d been the one to do this to her. For her.

But then her breathing slowed and she kissed my neck, the sensation light and soft. Too intimate. Too much.

And that’s when the high came crashing down, hitting me as hard as a truck.

I’d just dry-fucked my daughter’s new nanny against the front door.

And I liked it.

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Author Information:

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Contemporary romance author Heather Van Fleet is stay-at-home-mom turned book boyfriend connoisseur. She’s a wife to her high school sweetheart, a mom to three little girls, and in her spare time you can find her with her head buried in her Kindle, guzzling down copious amounts of coffee. Heather was born and raised in Moline, Illinois, where she lives with her wonderful family. 

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Spotlight Tour – Sweet Southern Bad Boy by Michele Summers

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Title: Sweet Southern Bad Boy

Series: Harmony Homecomings, #3

Author: Michele Summers

Pub Date: December 6, 2016

ISBN: 9781402293610

Buy Links:

Amazon | Books-A-Million | Barnes & Noble | Chapters | iBooks  | Indiebound

 

 

ABOUT Sweet Southern Bad Boy

Katie McKnight loves her job. Not really. But Katie loves her dad and this job means everything to him. Which is why she finds herself scouting for the perfect house to film a mini-series…and that house happens to be in Harmony, NC. Now if Katie can convince the grouchy, disheveled, but totally hunky guy who owns it that this is the perfect setting for the next teen craze, then she’ll be in business.

Bestselling author, Vance Kerner has lost his mind along with his favorite loafers and the notes to his next novel…somewhere under all the dirty dishes in his kitchen. Since babysitting his brother’s three kids, one dog and a cat, Vance hasn’t found a moments peace. So when California Katie knocks on his door, Vance doesn’t stop to ask questions. He simply yanks her inside and puts her in charge.

Katie agrees to babysit if Vance will allow her film crew access to his property. Vance agrees to listen to Katie’s terms with an open mind. He’ll agree to anything for the time and peace he needs to write. Almost.

But having Katie underfoot is anything but peaceful. And Vance is finding less and less time to write and more and more time to watch Katie weave a lovely spell on all the Kerners, especially him. Can these two opposites find a common ground and the love they both deserve?

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Sweet Southern Bad Boy Casting Call

Sweet Southern Bad Boy is now casting actors for the main couple

Looking for dynamic couple with off the charts chemistry and sizzling sex appeal and ability to banter, laugh and cry with each other. Need to believe in the elusive love at first sight and living happily ever after.

Casting call for one strong, hunky, athletic, alpha-male with a bit of an attitude and a little bit of crank on the side, but beneath the gruff exterior, a really good guy. All actors apply between 29 and 34 years of age, 6’ to 6’-3’’ tall, dark longish hair, dark eyes, cool facial scuff, and totally handsome. No scrawny pip-squeaks need apply. No shaved heads, dreadlocks or Mohawks and no Duck Dynasty look-a-likes. Authentic southern drawl a real plus along with a sexy smoldering look and a piratical smile.

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Calling all pretty, fresh-faced gals with long dark hair and dark eyes, approximately 5’-4” to 5-6” in height with a sunny smile and disposition to match. Between the ages of 26 and 30; size 10 with womanly curves. Nice but no push-over, strong enough to wrangle three wild children under the age of 6. No shrinking violets, or high-maintenance, spoiled princesses need apply. Executing piercing wolf whistle could seal the deal.

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MICHELE SUMMERS writes about small-town life with a Southern flair, and has her own interior design business in Raleigh, North Carolina, and Miami, Florida. Both professions feed her creative appetite and provide a daily dose of humor.

Spotlight Tour – This Is Our Song by Samantha Chase

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I’m one of those people who can multi-task.  To a point.  I do like almost complete silence while I write with the exception of my Sounds of the Ocean soundtrack playing.  I can have twenty tabs open online and be on social media while I’m writing, but please don’t make me listen to anything!  But amazingly enough, on most of my books I do end up with a playlist that helps me get the job done.

I just don’t listen to it while I’m writing.

I turn to it when I’m blocked – when I’m stuck in a scene and need to get hyper-focused on my characters.  This is Our Song was kind of easy to have a playlist to because Riley is a musician.  There were songs that I felt like I could imagine him singing or that the lyrics really applied to him.

So what was on my list and why?  Here’s just one of the songs that was on my This is Our Song playlist!

No Matter What by Def Leppard: 

This is actually a remake but I love it so and I listen to it more than is probably healthy and sing it louder than someone who can’t sing should.  J  This is just a great classic rock song that I think Shaughnessy would play in concert.  It’s the kind of song that everyone would sing along to.  Plus, my favorite line seems to fit something Riley would sing to Savannah – especially considering her career.

Favorite line:  No matter what you are
I will always be with you
Doesn’t matter what you do, girl
Ooh girl, with you

I was lucky with This is Our Song because of Riley’s career.  Some books it will just be a single (as in one) song that is on my playlist to help me over the humps.  And sometimes I’ll have to listen to that song like five times in a row to get me in the proper mindset to write what I need to write.

Happy listening and I hope you enjoy This is Our Song!!

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New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Samantha Chase crafts a tender, hopeful family-centered romance 

She knows him by reputation

Riley Shaughnessy knew that to stand out in his large family, he’d have to go big. Making a name for himself as a musician wasn’t easy, but he followed his dreams to rock-star success. But the relentless expectations of fans is not helping the slump he’s in now. So of course the person who attracts him is the woman who is not impressed by fame.

Which gives Riley Shaughnessy a lot to prove

Entertainment reporter Savannah Daly is completely unfazed by pretty-boy rock stars. She’s just here to get her interview and write her story. But spending an entire month with the Shaughnessys is going to show Savannah a side of Riley she never could have guessed.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2fWRTCq

B&N: http://bit.ly/2fWMMlP

iBooks: http://apple.co/2fWKRNZ

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He didn’t just beat her in the best of three.

Oh, no. That would have been too easy.

No, Savannah—who realized too late that she was a very sore loser—kept egging him on until he finally put the paddle down after beating her in twelve games. Twelve! Why did she have to keep taunting him? Even while they were playing she couldn’t make herself ask him anything important. They talked about useless stuff—favorite bands, favorite foods—hell, at one point she’d even asked him his favorite color.

She hung her head low in defeat and put her paddle on the table. Riley had excused himself and went to get them each a drink. She prayed it was vodka. Something to make her forget this humiliation.

His prize at the end of the first three games was that she’d stay and have dinner with him.

After the next three she’d stay for a movie.

She really thought she was going to beat him in the third round. Unfortunately, it had been her biggest loss, and he’d simply chuckled and said he’d have to think about his reward. And he’d repeated that after the fourth and final win.

Riley cleared his throat when he walked back into the room and handed her a glass of ice water. They drank in silence for a few minutes. “That was fun,” he finally said, and Savannah realized he wasn’t being obnoxious and he wasn’t gloating. He genuinely looked like he’d had a good time.

And despite all the losing, Savannah would have to agree. It was fun.

“How do you feel about salmon for dinner?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” she said and was relieved he wasn’t gloating.

“It’s kind of early yet. Maybe we can watch a movie first?”

That was a reasonable request, and she agreed. Together they picked out a classic Neil Simon movie from 1967, Barefoot in the Park. “Ooo…Robert Redford.” She sighed. “Another favorite.”

Tucked away in a corner was one of the biggest flat-screen TVs Savannah had ever seen. Riley noticed her stunned look. “It’s one hundred ten inches. They don’t come any bigger than this right now. The picture’s great too.”

Two oversized recliners were centered in front of the screen and they each sat down. Riley started the movie and within minutes Savannah was more relaxed and they were both laughing along with the story.

She kicked her sandals off and tucked her feet up on the chair beside her. Next she pulled the clip out of her hair so she could relax her head against the back of the comfortable chair. Looking to her right, she saw Riley was watching her. His expression was intense and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “Is everything okay?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“Riley?”

“I still have to decide what I get for winning those last two rounds,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

Savannah nodded, hypnotized by the way his eyes had gone so dark.

“I’m going to combine them into one request,” he said, and it sounded more like a warning than a statement.

“Okay.” Her own voice was almost a breathy whisper.

Leaning closer, Riley’s eyes zeroed in on her lips before meeting her eyes. “Savannah?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to kiss you. Twice.”

“Oh.”

His hand snaked out and around her nape and slowly drew her closer to him. And then his lips touched hers and Savannah’s brain simply stopped functioning.

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New York Times and USA Today Bestseller Samantha Chase released her debut novel, Jordan’s Return, in November 2011. Teaching creative writing to students from elementary through high school motivated Samantha to take that step as well. Since then, she has become a NYT and USA  Today bestselling author. She lives with her husband of 25 years and their two sons in North Carolina.