Excerpt Reveal + Pre-Order: Order of Protection by Lexi Blake

 

 

To high-end defense attorney Henry Garrison, Win Hughes is a woman he met during one of the most trying times of his life. She’s soft and warm, and he finds solace in their brief relationship. But Win has a secret. She’s actually Taylor Winston-Hughes—born to one of the wealthiest families in the country, orphaned as a child by a tragic accident. Win moves in the wealthiest circles, but her lavish lifestyle hides her pain.

When her best friend is murdered in the midst of a glittering New York gala, Win’s charged with the crime, and the only person in the world she wants to see is Henry.

Henry is shocked at the true identity of his lover, but he can’t reject the case. This case could take his new firm into the stratosphere. Still, he’s not getting burned by Win again. And yet every turn brings them closer together.

As the case takes a wild turn and Win’s entire life is upended, she must look to the people she’s closest to in order to find a killer. And Henry must decide between making his case and saving the woman he loves…

 

 

Now available for pre-order!

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If Henry gave her a minute, they would be back to polite. He wouldn’t find out if she could want him in an honest way. “Win, I’m an alcoholic. I’m divorced, and it wasn’t some thoughtful conscious uncoupling. It was nasty and ugly. I’m a lawyer who doesn’t give a shit if his clients are guilty or not as long as they have the money to pay me. I have gotten off people who probably went back out into the world to do terrible things, and I’ll probably do it again because I believe in this system. It’s imperfect, but it’s better than anything else. And I’m too old for you.”

She snorted, an oddly amusing sound. “I’m not some shrinking virgin. I’m twenty-nine, and I’ve been around the block a couple of times and with some men I wish I hadn’t ever gotten into the car with. How old are you? Forty?”

He winced. “Thirty-seven.”

Her lips curled up, and it was worth the blow to his ego. “Well, you don’t look a day over forty, and that’s a pretty nice age for a man. You think you don’t deserve such a young, hot chick?”

Thank god she was teasing him again. He’d hated the way her shoulders had slumped when she’d thought he’d rejected her. But still, he had to be honest. If he was going to do this, she would get the new Henry. “I think I could hurt a woman like you if I’m not careful.”

“Then be careful with me, Henry Garrison,” she said, moving closer to him. “And I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions and live with them. I would like to spend the night with you. It doesn’t have to last beyond tomorrow. I’m not asking to be your girlfriend. I’m asking you to help me get through the night, to help me get that nightmare out of my head, so I can feel safe for the first time in months. It’s been a long time since I felt safe.”

That he could do. She moved in close, right between his legs, and he reached up and cupped her face, holding her still as he looked into her eyes. So much fucking innocence. He didn’t care what she’d been through. She was way too young for him, but she’d said yes and he wasn’t a saint. Not even close. “Be sure. I might want more than one night. I’m here for a few weeks. I could use this. I could use some time with you.”

It wouldn’t work long-term. When he finished up and got back to the city, he wouldn’t have time to spend with her, and she deserved that. He would be knee-deep in the sewer again. It wasn’t a place he would take her, but he could be what she needed here.

“I could use some time with you,” she replied. “You’re right about a few things. I haven’t ever been around a man like you. The men I’ve been with have been boys who cared more about their images than they did about pleasing me. I think it might be different with you. I know you’re trying to scare me off with all that ‘I screwed up my life’ stuff, but I get that. You can’t make me run, or I would run away from myself. Tell me if you can make me forget about everything except what you’re doing to my body because tonight that’s all I want.”

Oh, he could do that. He might not be able to feed her soul, but he could work her body all fucking night long.

 

 

 

NY Times and USA Today bestselling author Lexi Blake lives in North Texas with her husband, three kids, and the laziest rescue dog in the world. She began writing at a young age, concentrating on plays and journalism. It wasn’t until she started writing romance and urban fantasy that she found the stories of her heart. She likes to find humor in the strangest places and believes in happy endings no matter how odd the couple, threesome, or foursome may seem.

 

FACEBOOK / TWITTER / WEBSITE / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

 

Excerpt Reveal + Pre-Order: Wild Card by Lila Monroe

 

 

‘The Wedding Date’ gets a sexy twist in the new hilarious rom-com from Lila Monroe!
Is there anything worse than playing maid-of-honor to your bitchy college nemesis? Try it when she’s marrying your DAD! Olivia Chambers doesn’t know what she’s done to deserve this karmic retribution, but she needs a date to the wedding from hell – and fast. She’s used to matchmaking billionaires, but now she needs a Prince Charming of her own. Someone handsome and famous enough to make bridezilla and her minions drool with envy…

Someone like hottie ex-NFL star Ryan Callahan.

Ryan is looking for love. Well, the fake kind. He needs the perfect woman on his arm to woo investors for his superstar new business venture, but nobody is scoring that touchdown… until elegant, sophisticated Olivia comes to him with a proposition. She’ll play his perfect date – if he’ll play hers.

The deal is simple! Or is it? Take one week in the Florida Keys, a dose of sizzling sexual tension, a madcap wedding, and some seriously humid frizzy hair, and Ryan and Olivia have the recipe for disaster… or maybe the time of their lives.

But can Olivia let down her guard long enough to let Ryan sweep her off her feet? And will Ryan take his eyes off the (business) prize long enough to see what’s right in front of him?

Find out in the hot, delicious new novel from Lila Monroe!

BILLIONAIRE BACHELORS SERIES:
1 Very Irresistible Playboy
2 Hot Daddy
3 Wild Card (June 2018)
4 Man Candy (Aug 2018)

PREORDER NOW

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Chapter One

 

When you’ve lived in New York as long as I have, you start to accept the fact that there are certain undeniable truths about life in this city.

1) Carrie Bradshaw never could have afforded that apartment on a journalist’s salary.

2) Unless your idea of Sunday Funday is a teary three p.m. orange-juice hangover, unlimited mimosa brunch is never a good idea.

And 3) this city—and, let’s face it, basically the whole world—is set up for couples. Everything is easier if you’re one half of a pair. Rent is cheaper. Battling the mobs at the grocery store on a weekend is less soul-crushing. And the odds of dying one of those grim, Daily News-type deaths where nobody knows you’re gone until the neighbors start to notice a funny smell from down the hallway? Way less likely when there’s someone around to catch the stench and stop kitty from eating your face.

Most of us try to find our other half the old-fashioned way: looking for true love. A partner to fill our lives with joy—or, at the very least, someone to slump in front of Netflix with on a Friday night and stop us from eating a whole block of cheese alone. (Not that I’ve done that. Not at all.) But what happens if that hasn’t worked out for you just yet, but you still need someone on your team?

Well, if you’re wealthy, and connected enough to know the number—you call me.

The Agency specializes in matchmaking . . . of the fake variety. I’m not aiming to find my clients true love (although, that seems to be a side benefit for a few of them these days), just a true partner-in-crime. Need a fake fiancée to get your interfering relatives off your case? I’m your woman. Old-school workplace treating you like a brazen hussy because you’re not coupled up? I’ll find a partner for that work retreat that your boss will adore. I’m discreet, professional, and I have a knack for finding just the right match to get your through that tough spot. After all, everyone deserves someone to have their back, even the weirdos.

Especially the weirdos.

“So, I think I’ve got all the information I need,” I say now, smiling across my desk at today’s client. Jason is the newly-flush CEO of a tech startup that was just bought out by Google, and he needs a date to bring to a company-wide retreat in the Berkshires. Though most my clients are just too busy—or too famous—to find themselves the right date, with Jason I’m pretty sure it’s got more to do with his twenty-dollar haircut and his habit of peppering every conversation with arcane trivia from Star Trek. “I should be able to find someone with an advanced degree in a STEM field and an interest in . . .” I double-check my notes. “Traditional Latvian folk music.”

“That’s great,” Jason says, smiling eagerly. He can’t be more than twenty-two, and the fact that he has no idea how to handle his newfound fortune is achingly obvious. At our very first meeting, he parked his brand-new Maserati in a tow zone in front of my office and had to take a cab all the way to Coney Island to get it back.

“In the meantime, I want you to go see my friend Lucas down at Bergdorf’s,” I tell him. There’s no way I’m about to send this guy out into the world in his Pac-Man T-shirt and Birkenstocks, no matter how rich he is. After all, I’ve got a reputation to protect. “And I’ve had my assistant Alice make you an appointment at a great salon.”

“Sounds good,” Jason says, nodding like a bobblehead. Then his face clouds. “There is one more thing I’m looking for in a date,” he says, suddenly nervous. “And I think it might be a little . . . unorthodox.”

“Oh?” I try to keep my face neutral. I have to explain to new clients, gently but firmly, that I’m not running that kind of agency. In fact, I have strict rules about romantic activities—they’re totally forbidden.

Jason takes a deep breath. “I’m looking for someone with experience as a Dungeon Master.”

Oh, yikes. “Unfortunately that’s not part of the suite of services we offer here,” I say carefully, “but I’d be happy to give you the card of an extremely discreet dominatrix who operates a private club on the Lower East Side, and I’m sure she’ll be able to—”

All at once Jason sits bolt upright in his chair. “Wait wait wait,” he interrupts, turning the color of a late-summer tomato. “A dominatrix? What are you talking about?”

I frown. “Isn’t that what you just—?”

“A Dungeon Master,” he says witheringly. “Like, for Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh. Oh!” I feel my face flush to match his. “Of course. I didn’t realize—”

“Jeez,” he interrupts, looking at me like possibly I’m the perv here. “What kind of operation are you running?”

I spend the next twenty minutes reassuring him that we’re on the up and up, then show him out and turn to my assistant, Alice, who’s sitting behind the reception desk typing away at her computer, her dark hair in a tidy Audrey Hepburn topknot at the crown of her head. “How was that?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, you know.” I stretch as Thor, our cranky ginger cat hops down off the filing cabinet and prowls across the Persian rug. I bend down to scratch him behind his mangy ears. “Just another day in the coal mines. You can knock off early,” I say, straightening up and smoothing my pencil skirt. “I’ve got a lunch across town, and then I’m just going to take the rest of the day.”

Alice tilts her head to the side. “Hot date?” she asks.

“I wish,” I say, plucking my jacket off the brass coat rack in the corner. “My dad’s in town.”

I’m running late, so I take a car across town to the Palace Hotel, where my dad likes to stay every time he’s in New York. My phone rings while we’re stopped in traffic, and I grimace when I see the caller ID.

“Hi, Ryan,” I say, hoping the eye-roll isn’t too obvious in my voice. Ryan Callahan is one of my most difficult, demanding clients. And not because he isn’t attractive. The polar opposite, actually. He was a star quarterback for a pro football team until an injury to his Achilles tendon cut his career short three years ago. Since then he’s had his hand in all kinds of different businesses—sports drinks, fitness apps, even a sneaker line—and his combination of brains and brawn should make him an easy match—if I was just looking for a real date. But the guy needs someone to help him schmooze with investors, and he’s ridiculously picky. He’s auditioned nearly my entire roster, but nobody is good enough. Ryan may be rich and handsome—OK, he’s hot as all get out, with the kind of broad, hard body you want to climb like a mountain—but he’s proving to be a Kilimanjaro-sized pain in my ass.

“Hey, Olivia,” he says, his easygoing voice hiding what I know is an iron will. “We need to talk.”

“Of course,” I reply. “I’m glad you called. Tell me more about why you didn’t like Amy?” And Tessa, and Claire, and Erin, I silently add.

“It’s not that I didn’t like her, exactly,” Ryan says as the car pulls up in front of the hotel. I scoot out of the backseat, smiling at the doorman as I slip through the revolving door and head for the lobby. The Palace is quintessential old New York, with marble floors and crystal chandeliers, the smell of lilies heavy in the air. “She was fine,” Ryan continues. “But I need the perfect wingwoman, you know? This investor meeting is a huge deal.”

“No, I know it is,” I promise, wanting to head him off at the pass before he launches into his pitch—again. He’s trying to raise capital to launch a chain of health food kiosks, and his potential investor is an old-school finance guy, so to make a good impression he needs someone smart and sophisticated. Which, for the record, all my girls are. But none of them have passed muster with Captain America over here. And the truth is I’m starting to run out of options.

“There’s a woman named Lauren I want you to meet,” I tell him now, climbing the wide carpeted steps that lead to the lobby. “She’s an executive assistant at a gallery downtown—very smart, very culturally savvy. I’ll have Alice make you a dinner reservation for this weekend.”

“If you say so,” Ryan says, sounding uncertain. “I just think . . .”

I lose the rest of his sentence in the loud buzzing that suddenly fills my ears as I turn the corner into the lobby—and catch sight of a familiar woman strolling across the plush oriental rug.

Shit,” I blurt, stopping in my tracks and scooting behind a massive floral arrangement before she can see me. My heart jackhammers violently against my ribs as I peek out and check I wasn’t just hallucinating.

But nope. There she is. Vanessa Simpson, my psycho college roommate in the flesh. A lot of flesh. She’s sashaying through the lobby in a flimsy sundress with a Birkin bag slung over one arm.

Ryan breaks off. “Olivia?” he says. “Are you OK?”

“Um, yup,” I promise distractedly, darting behind a bellman pushing a loaded luggage cart across the lobby. “Completely. I’m listening.”

He keeps talking, but I peek through a couple of garment bags to watch Vanessa, who’s stalking across the lobby like she thinks it’s a runway. She was my roommate freshman year and made my life a living hell. There were the normal roommate annoyances, sure—the clothes-stealing, the messiness, the loud hookups so I had to sleep with earplugs and an eye mask in case she came stumbling back at two a.m. with a guy and stripped naked right up against the door. (Twice.)

And then there were the next-level stunts, the kind that took her from “selfish and spoiled” to “psycho in the making.” Like casually wiping my finals papers from my laptop because, whoops, she couldn’t figure out how to download the new Housewives episodes. Or the time I got a particularly gnarly zit on my lip and she told everyone on our floor I had mouth herpes. It took me a week to figure out why the RA kept offering to escort me to the health center.

If there was one silver lining to living with a raging She-Demon like Vanessa, it was her big brother Tristan, who was at school down at Princeton and took the train up to visit sometimes. He always invited me out to dinner with the two of them, asking me about my classes and what books I was reading. To say I had a crush on him was an understatement—the truth is, I would have hitchhiked to New Jersey in a pair of crotchless panties if he’d ever shown one tiny glimmer of interest. As it was, I settled for stalking—ahem, scrutinizing every post he made on social media and dreaming up elaborate fantasies in which he rode up on a fiery steed—or a Toyota Corolla, whatever—and rescued me from undergraduate hell.

But that was then. The minute freshman year was over, I switched dorms and kept my distance from Vanessa. I haven’t seen either one of them since graduation, and I fully intend to keep it that way.

I skulk past the lobby and into an alcove, then drag my focus back to the conversation. Ryan is a big, important client, and I’m determined to find him someone who ticks all the boxes. “Ashley will be perfect,” I tell him. “I think you two will really hit it off.”

I hang up with Ryan and peek around the corner to check the lobby. All clear. Vanessa is mercifully gone—off to have her broomstick re-bristled, maybe, or to steal candy from a small child with a terminal illness. I let out a sigh of relief and head into the restaurant, where my dad is already seated at a table by the window, a glass of Basil Hayden on the rocks sweating in his hand.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, bending to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hiya, sweetheart.” My dad retired down to Key West a few years ago and spends his days relaxing on the beach and taking friends out on his fishing boat. But he’s still a Northeasterner at his core and he makes his way back like a homing pigeon every few months. “How you doing?”

I order a drink and we spend a few minutes catching up. “Should we order?” I ask finally, glancing down at the menu.

“In a minute,” my dad says. “First, I’ve got news.”

I raise my eyebrows, I can’t help it. Suddenly I know exactly where this is going. “Let me guess,” I deadpan. “You’re getting married again?”

My dad makes an exaggerated who, me? face. “Well, hell, Livvie,” he says, sounding a little hurt. “When you say it like that you make it sound as if I’ve got a new bride every week.”

Every couple of years, more like. My mom died when I was in high school, and ever since then my dad has gone through wives like other men go through undershirts. Whoever this woman is, she’ll be new stepmom #4. I try not to let it get to me—it’s his life, after all, and I want him to be happy, even if it does mean having to pretend to be interested in some daffy stranger’s rare doll collection just because she happens to be married to my dad.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I tease, “so you’re not getting married again?”

“Well, yes,” my dad admits sheepishly. Then he brightens. “But this one’s a winner. Really, Livvie, it’s someone I’m sure you’ll like.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, taking a sip of my prosecco. “What’s she like?”

“You already know her,” my dad says, visibly pleased with himself. “In fact: you’ve lived together.”

“We’ve—wait, what?” I set my glass down on the table.

There’s a horrifying moment where I start to put two and two together, but

it’s like I can’t force my brain to finish the thought before two hands with long pink nails like talons land on my shoulders.

“Surprise!”

I whirl around and there’s Vanessa suddenly looming over me like a Disney villain, as if she’d appeared in a puff of smoke. “Guess what, Livvie,” she trills, baring her teeth in a wide, white smile. “I’m going to be your new mom!”
 

 

About the Author

Combining her passions for books, sex, and well-fitted suits, Lila Monroe wrote her first romantic comedy, The Billionaire Bargain, in 2015 and hasn’t stopped since. She loves writing about smart alpha men, and the strong and sassy women who try to tame them.

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New Release + Release Blitz + Excerpt + 4.5 Star Review + Giveaway: Cross by Adriana Locke

FB BANNER Cross (1)

We are excited to share in the release of CROSS, Book 2.5 in the The Gibson Boys series by author Adriana Locke. CROSS is LIVE, so make sure to grab your copy today!

ecover Cross (1)

Title:​​Cross

Author:Adriana Locke

Series:The Gibson Boys #2.5

Cover Designer:​​Kari March at www.karimarch.com

Release Date:Friday, May 23, 2018

Blurb:

Cross Jacobs was a screw-up.

Everyone knew it, especially him, and the point was hammered home when Kallie Welch drove herself right out of his life. 

But, she’s back. 

Seeing Cross wasn’t on Kallie’s to-do list. She didn’t think she could avoid him forever but trying never hurt anyone. One minute she’s standing by herself and the next she’s accosted by a rich, velvety scent that could only belong to one man: Cross. 

At face value, he’s divine. All rugged and confident with a smile that melts her right where she’s standing. It doesn’t take long to find him to be charming, witty, and the owner of a few legitimate businesses. Not at all like the mischievous boy she left. 

He laughs and her heart flutters. With a touch of his hand, she’s dizzy. She’s fairly certain she’s going to die when he pulls her into an embrace and touches his lips to her forehead. 

It feels right. It feels so right. 

But is it?

Add CROSS to Goodreads:​ http://bit.ly/CrossGR

Have CROSS for your very own:​ http://bit.ly/CrossGR

 

Cross - Try harder.png

 

Chapter One

Cross

“Where have you been in that thing?” Machlan shouts.

The roar of his muscle car’s engine winds down and he clicks the transmission into park. The purplish-black paint shines in the early afternoon sun.

Having just backed out of a parking spot onto Main Street, I check my rearview mirror. No one is coming. “Bluebird Hill,” I tell him. “After all that rain last night, I figured I’d test the new tires Walker put on my truck last week.”

“You’re a fuckin’ kid.He laughs.

“Says the man driving that, I tease, pointing at his ride.

“I’m not sure what your point is. This car is the baddest thing in town.” He punches the gas, the motor roaring like a banshee.

Glancing around at Doc Burns’ office with two cars in the parking lot and the Linton County History Museum across the street that only opens for the Water Festival once a year, I grin. “That’s not saying much.”

“Go to Hell.” His hand slips through his dark hair and over his chin. The amusement in his features evaporates as I watch … and cringe.

I know this look. I know all of his looks, actually, a by-product of being his best friend as long as I can remember. Many of them concern me and a lot of them worry me. But this one? It’s a flashing red sign with Vegas-inspired lights.

The thing is, I can’t just ignore it. When this look comes, so does the topic of my sister and, even though I love the both of them, I wouldn’t mind seeing them in a padded room until they fix whatever it is between them that is so broken.

With a sigh, I jam my truck into park too. “Yes,” I say, answering the question he’s yet to ask. “Hadley called and isn’t coming home this weekend. She said maybe next week.”

His jaw works back and forth as he stares down the street. “Why?”

That single word is spit with a lifetime of emotion. Machlan has loved my sister since the day she moved to Linton with our father and me when our mother died. She was fourteen and innocent and he was fifteen and infatuated. Through the years, they were off and on and together and not—at least officially. Everyone knew Machlan and Hadley were one and the same.

I’m not sure why she moved away from here. Being both her brother and hisbest friend precluded me from certain information, which is for the best. They both drive me nuts without having the details.

“Not sure,” I reply. “She left a voicemail last night saying she wouldn’t be home today. She didn’t pick up when I called her back.”

He flips his gaze to me. “You didn’t talk to her after that?”

“She’s a big girl, Mach,” I mock. “I’m sure she had shit to do.”

“Yeah.” His fingers regrip the steering wheel as his jaw goes back to work again.

“I’m gonna go wash this before I head back to the gym—”

“She’s all right, though. Right?” he interrupts. His face is stone-cold sober. “I mean …”

“She’s fine.”

He waits. Blinks. Re-grips the wheel again. “That’s it?”

Popping my truck into drive, I blow out a breath. “Yeah, that’s it. You want to know more? Call her. What a fucking amazing concept.”

“Yeah. I’ll get right on that,” he snips back.

“You should. Then you could quit this whole thing.”

“Got nothin’ to quit, man. Just being a decent guy.”

A decent guy. It’s my turn to turn my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Machlan isn’t a decent guy. He’s a fucking great one … much better than the guy Hadley is seeing now. A guy I haven’t mentioned to Mach since I got home a couple of weeks ago from visiting her. I’m not mentioning him, either. I’ll save the boyfriend an ER bill and myself the bail money.

I can’t blame him. It has to be hard to see Hadley with another guy when, in Machlan’s mind, she’s his girl.

My stomach twists like it always does when my mind goes down this road. At least my girl didn’t bring other guys back with her. Hell, she didn’t even come back at all.

“Here comes Kip,” Machlan says, bringing me out of my reverie. Nodding toward the road in front of him, he laughs. “I’m not moving.”

I twist in my seat to see the sheriff coming toward us. He blares the siren twice as if to get us to move. We don’t.

Machlan pokes his head out of the window. “Need somethin’?” he shouts.

Laughing, I watch Kip’s car slide carefully between Machlan’s and the curb on the other side.

“You can’t park in the street!” Kip yells.

“What are ya gonna do about it?” I holler.

“Take ya both in.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Machlan asks. “Someone to protect and serve? Or service, if I know you?”

Kip shakes his head as Machlan flips him the bird. The sirens come on again before Kip hits the gas and speeds off down the street and vanishes over the hill.

When I look back at Machlan, his attention is on his phone.

“What?” I ask, curious about the smile on his face.

He looks at me and laughs. Sticking the phone in the cup holder, he shrugs. “Nothing. But can you do me a favor?”

“No.”

“I need help moving a couple of things at Crave. Come help me. Just for a few.”

“What’s in it for me?” I ask.

“A beer?”

Throwing the truck in neutral, I rev the engine. It barely sounds before his is screaming over top of mine and we jet off in opposite directions. I get to a stop sign at the end of the street and do a quick one-eighty to head to Crave.

4.5 Star

Tracey’s Review

Second-chance romance in the land of the Gibson Boys? Yes, please. CROSS takes place not long before CRANK, Addy’s most recent release, and the first in her Gibson Boys series. So, we get to see many of the characters that we already know and love, PLUS, one sexy boxer named Cross Jacobs.

Second-chance love stories are some of my favorite, and when it’s got characters that I know and love, and is written by an author that is one of of my go-tos, I know that I’m going to love what I’m reading. Addy has the ability to craft stories that always draw me in, and Kallie’s and Cross’s story is no exception. Having read CRANK, I was already completely invested in the folks on Linton, Illinois, and getting to go back for another visit was a treat. Kallie and Cross are two people that are just meant to be together, and, once they start to communicate and appreciate what they have in each other, there’s no keeping them apart.

CROSS is a n easy 4.5 star read for me, and I am happy to recommend it, and the reset of the books in Adriana’s Gibson Boys series as well.

Cross - Second Time

 

Enter the CROSS Giveaway:

http://bit.ly/CrossReleaseGiveaway

 

USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.

For sneak peeks, giveaways, and more, please join Adriana’s Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke, or her Goodreads group, All Locked Up.

AUTHOR LINKS

Website: http://www.adrianalocke.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoradrianalocke

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8379774.Adriana_Locke

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Newsletter: http://bit.ly/LockeList

New Release + Blog Tour + Excerpt: Worth the Risk by K. Bromberg

WorthTheRiskSBPRBTBanner“Bromberg is a master at turning up the heat.”

New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

Worth the Risk, an all-new, sexy standalone about taking chances and finding love when it’s least expected, from New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg, is LIVE!

KBROMBERG_worth_riskebook

Synopsis

This whole contest was supposed to be easy. I know, I know. Famous last words.

It’s a long story, but I messed up at work. Big time. To earn back the trust of my boss, I promised to save one of our magazines. Yep. That Hot Dad contest you’ve seen advertised all over the place was my idea. And if I’m successful, if I’m able to increase our online readership, then I get a shot at my dream job.

But the one thing I never expected to happen, happened: Contestant number ten, Grayson Malone. Hello, Mr. Difficult. And did I mention sexy as hell?

Unfortunately he knows me. The old me, anyway. And while we might be older now, I remind him of before. Of the woman who broke his heart, who hardened him, and who left him alone to raise the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen.

But I don’t want a relationship. And I definitely don’t fall for single dads with baggage. Even ones with chiseled abs and killer smiles.

But he got to me. They got to me. Him and his son and their messy, crazy life. But I got to him too. I see the stolen glances. I feel the walls he built start to crumble. I recognize that there’s an unexpected beauty to the chaos in his life.

And now that the contest is about to end, we’re left to decide whether the last six months were just fun or if what we have is worth risking it all?

Excerpt

But by the time I reach her, my blood boils with irrationality spurred on by too much alcohol.“Can I have a moment?” I ask as I walk up to her and grab her elbow, pushing her down the darkened hallway.

“What is your problem?” She hisses as she fights me every step of the way.

We get looks. I get looks. I don’t care because all I keep seeing is Vince’s hands on her arm. His eyes on her tits. His bullshit game I can spot a mile away.

I find the closest door down the hallway leading to the bathrooms, and it opens. I push her through it, barely noticing that it’s an office of sorts before the door is shut, her back is up against it, and my mouth is covering hers.

Take.

Goddammit. That’s my only thought as I fit my lips to hers and take out my anger on her mouth with tongue and teeth and every fucking lick and nip in between.

“What—”

“I’m so pissed at you.”

It’s all I say. It’s the only chance I give her to come up for air before my lips are back on hers. Before my tongue wars with hers. Before my body admits it would beg, borrow, and steal in order to taste every other part of her.

Groan.

I swallow the tiny sound she makes in our kiss as my hands hold her neck still and my lips wage an all-out assault. She hesitates—just a split second—before she reacts. Before her body bows into me, and her mouth argues back.

Fist.

Her hand in my shirt. Her other hand at the back of my neck as our bodies meet—pressed knee to chest. Her perfume in my nose. Her hair tickling my cheeks. The feel of her tits against my chest.

Give.

I can’t get enough.

I’m mad at her.

I want her.

I don’t want to want her.

Christ, do I want her.

“Gray.” A murmured protest.

I tear my lips from hers, shove off the door I have her pressed against, and stride to the other side of the room.

“You are . . . you just . . .” It’s as if I can barely breathe. Christ, I’m mad at you.”

She stands there, lips parted, chest heaving, and golden brown curls messed from my hands, but her eyes look hurt. A hurt I don’t want to see but can’t deny.

“Why?”

“You did this,” I accuse as I try to manage the anger that’s waging a war against my desire.

“Did what?” Her eyes narrow. Her hand goes to press against her chest.

“Made me want you.”

for CGFC

Grayson: I’ve been thinking about you all day.

I look down at the text and smile before turning my attention back to Rissa and our plans for how we’re going to end this round of voting and move on to the top five.

“So, I think we close it out and then maybe take the next week and announce one of the finalists each day. Give little tidbits about each of them, make readers like them more, just have fun with it.”

My phone beeps again with another text, and I bite back the new grin trying to form on my lips. Rissa only huffs, eyeing my phone with annoyance. “Sorry, let me turn my ringer off.”

And then I have to feign nonchalance when I look down at my phone and find another text.

Grayson: My dick is rock hard, and it’s you I’m imagining. It’s in my hand when I’d rather it be in your mouth with my fingers in your pussy, working you into a frenzy.

“Is everything okay?” Rissa asks, making me realize I must have made a noise when I read the text. “You look startled.”

I glance back at the text again and shake my head while every part of my body comes to life. “Yeah, it’s, uh, fine.”

“Your ringer.” Her brows are lifted as she glances to my phone and then back to me.

My finger?” I squeak, thinking she saw the phone screen.

“Ringer. Sound on your phone.”

“Oh, yes . . . sorry.” Flustered, I fumble with my cell, and before I can even switch it off, another text alert pings.

Grayson: I want to bend you over and watch as my cock slides in and out of you.

“So back to next week . . .”

“Yes,” I swallow over the desire lodged in every place it should be and try not to glance at my phone as it vibrates again.

“Are you good with that plan?” Rissa asks as I shift in my seat to abate the sudden ache burning brighter than bright.

“Yes. Sure. I think that sounds like a great plan.”

Grayson: I want my cock buried so deep that you feel every damn inch of me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, why?” My voice breaks like a prepubescent teenager.

Grayson: I want you to come so hard you have to bite the pillow.

“You look a little flushed. Are you coming down with something?”

Grayson: You always have a choice. Isn’t that what you said to me once? Make a choice, Sidney. Isn’t it time to head to lunch?

“I mean, yeah, maybe.” I pull at my collar some. “Maybe that’s why I feel so flushed all of a sudden.”

Grayson: Meet me on the backside of The Cottages. Room Six. Fifteen minutes.

“Either that,” she says as she stands and heads to the door, only turning back to give me a wink, “or you’re guilty as hell. Maybe you should go take care of that itch texting you . . . or take some Tylenol. Whichever one it is, I think you should take the afternoon off.”

Grayson: Choose me.

“Oh.” It’s the only thing I can think to say because my brain is otherwise occupied imagining Grayson following through on his promises.

“And, Sid?”

“Yeah?”

“I sure hope he’s every bit worth breaking the rules.” She winks. “It’s about damn time. Your secret is safe with me.”

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About K. Bromberg

K. Bromberg Author PhotoNew York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines, and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.

A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs and soccer practices, more often than not with her laptop in tow.

Since publishing her first book in 2013, Kristy has sold over one million copies of her books across sixteen different countries and has landed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists over twenty-five times. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) is currently being adapted for film by Passionflix with the first movie slated to release in the summer of 2018.

She is currently working on her Everyday Heroes trilogy. This series consists of three complete standalone novels—Cuffed, Combust, and Cockpit (late spring 2018)—and is about three brothers who are emergency responders, the jobs that call to them, and the women who challenge them.

She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media or sign up for her newsletter to stay up to date on all her latest releases and sales: http://bit.ly/254MWtI

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New Release + Blog Tour + Excerpt: Dirty Rich Cinderella Story by Lisa Renee Jones

Title: Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

Author: Lisa Renee Jones
Release Date: May 23, 2018
A new sexy standalone from Lisa Renee Jones…
SEDUCED FOR A NIGHT. TAKEN FOREVER.
With only nine months left at Stanford, and despite being top of her law school class, Lori Havens takes leave to care for her sick mother. That means she juggles three jobs, the best of which is researcher for novelist, and syndicated columnist of “Cat Does Crime,” Cat Summer.
One evening after finishing up her work at Cat’s apartment building, Lori has an encounter with a sexy stranger, and does something out of character. She goes home with him. The night is perfect, he’s perfect, wealthy, powerful and from out of town. Morning comes, and despite their connection, Lori leaves before he finds out she’s far from the equal he believes her to be. She’s not a charity case and she’s not after his money. She will make her own. In other words, she leaves before her prince charming finds out she’s no princess.
Flash forward a few months, Lori’s mother is healing, and Cat’s husband, Reese, has merged his firm with another and Lori lands an internship there, with school credit and scholarship money.. Everything is falling into place. That is until fate reveals a wicked twist of events and Lori walks into a conference room to find her new boss, Cole Brooks, one of the partners, is her one-night prince charming. One sizzling shared look across a boardroom, and it’s clear: this man is not done with her. It’s not long before Lori is informed that she’ll be working high profile cases with her one night prince charming which will require long nights and travel, starting immediately.
I own you.
 
With those words, my words, my intent in the air, and my fingers still tangled in Lori’s hair, I kiss her, a deep, possessive kiss meant to claim her, take her, make her mine, if only for this night. And she knows it too, because when my lips part hers, she pants out, “No one owns me.”
“Then, sweetheart, you’ve never been properly fucked.” I slide my hands under her jacket, settling my palms on her shoulders.
“I guess that depends on how you define properly.”
I turn her to face in the opposite direction, dragging the jacket down her arms and tangling it around her wrists, and then I lean in close. “As dirty as possible,” I promise. “And with you on my tongue, in as many ways as we both find possible.”
“Is this how you own me?” she demands. “By binding my arms?”
“As much as I’d like to have you at my mercy, sweetheart,” I say, tossing the jacket aside, and turning her to face me, “I’m selfish enough to want your hands and mouth fully available, in any way, shape, or place you so choose to use them.” I walk us backward, toward the oversized chair made perfectly for the kind of hot, wild fuck in our near future, before my hands fall from her waist. “I want to watch you undress.”
“When do you undress?” she challenges.
“We have one condom, sweetheart. Let’s make it last. Undress for me, Lori.”
Her teeth scrape her bottom lip, and for just a moment, her eyes cut, but not before I see the flicker of nerves in her stare. And right then, I know that I’ve read her accurately up to this point. I know that her control is both a necessity and a wall that protects her. I know that no one has made it safe for her to leave those things at the door. No one has ever seen her really truly naked and the only way that happens, is to do exactly what I’m doing. Push her out of her comfort zone, pull her into the moment, where she forgets the walls, and lives nowhere but here in the moment. That’s the place where nothing exists but the two of us.
Her eyes meet mine again, and I see the decision in them. She’s not going to run like she did on the street tonight. She unzips her skirt, and caresses it down her slender, but curvy hips. It pools at her feet, and she kicks it aside, allowing me to admire her long legs in lacy thigh-high hose, my gaze catching on the slender strip of lace in the vee of her body.
Her fingers catch on the hem of her blouse, and she tries to hide the small, inhaled breath of courage she draws before pulling it and her loose bra over her head. She tosses it, and stands before me, creamy pale perfection in nothing but silk and lace, her breasts high, full, nipples puckered to a pretty pink that will soon be in my mouth. “You’re beautiful,” I say. “Come here.”
“Quid pro quo,” she declares. “I’m naked, you’re naked.”
We’re still doing the push and pull, but I don’t mind, not when my mouth is soon to be all over her body, which means her mouth will soon be all over my body. I don’t want her kneeling before me unless it’s to put her mouth on my cock. That’s not my goal, not this time, at least. It’s to own her, and that means she is so damn present, she can’t think, she can only feel. That takes trust and I decide to meet her halfway. I sit down and take off a shoe, showing it to her before setting it down.
“So now I get a socked foot?” she teases, and I can feel a hint of her tension easing away, her comfort in her own skin begins to settle into place. I can feel her easing into me and the night, letting me glimpse the real woman, not the stranger.
And I find that I surprise myself by how much I want to know this woman, not just fuck her.
“The pants don’t come off with the shoes on,” I tell her, and by the time I’ve removed the second shoe, she’s standing in front of me, every creamy white, naked inch of her. She grabs it and tosses it.
“Now the pants,” she orders, making it clear that she’s no submissive, that she can hold her own, and I fucking love it. “Or the shirt.”
I reach for her hips and walk her between my legs. “You’ve distracted me,” I tell her, my lips brushing her belly, my tongue drawing a circle. She trembles beneath my mouth, and I glance up at her. “You’re owned when you can think of nothing but the person you’re with. Nothing but what they might do to you now, and in the next moment.” I twine the string at her hips in my fingers. “Or where they might lick, kiss, or touch.” I drag her panties down her legs and then lower my mouth to her sex, where I let my breath tease her. “Tell me to lick you,” I order.
Her fingers curl around the material over my shoulders. “No.”
I bite my bottom lip and shake my head. “That’s too bad, because I really wanted to know how you taste.” I nip her hip and when she gives a surprised yelp I lave the wound with my tongue, glancing up at her. “Do you want me to—?”
“Yes.”
“Say it, Lori…”
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series.
In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is also the author of the bestselling WHITE LIES and LILAH LOVE series.
Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

New Release + Release Blitz + Excerpt: Unlocking Lies by Kennedy Layne

UNLOCKING LIES by Kennedy Layne is available now! Get your hands on the next installment in this incredible romantic suspense series – you don’t want to miss it!

 

About UNLOCKING LIES

Secrets and lies have a way of weaving a deadly web. Returning home from his last deployment shouldn’t have been complicated, but Jace Kendall was immediately drawn into a murder investigation that hits a little too close to home. The last thing he should be doing was reigniting old passions that should have been kept buried, but he’s never been a guy who plays by the rules.

Shae has suffered for twelve years without knowing why her sister disappeared. The long-awaited answers are now within reach, and she’ll have no choice but to trust the one man who knows more than he’s telling.

It isn’t long before Jace and Shae are lost in the mystery of solving a case that’s long gone cold. When they find the answers they’ve been looking for, a darkness is unveiled that will leave one of them in the crosshairs of a psychopath.

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Read an Excerpt from UNLOCKING LIES:

The cup Shae had used earlier was sitting upside down on a dishtowel. She’d washed it out before leaving this morning, allowing it to air dry. It didn’t take her long to fill the cup up with water and set it in the microwave. She pressed the appropriate time that would bring the water to the perfect temperature at which to steep tea— one hundred and seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit. It gave her time to make her way over to the bed to change into something more comfortable. It wasn’t like she was going to see anyone else tonight, and the tea needed time to cool naturally to one hundred and sixty.

Shae had managed to unpack a few items from her suitcase this morning. Her sleepwear, which consisted of shorts and t-shirts, were in the small dresser on the far wall. She rested her hand against the top drawer so she could remove her heels when her mind registered the boots lined up against the wall next to her other shoes.

Bile hit the back of her throat.

She struggled to breathe as her eyes locked onto the suede ankle boots she hadn’t seen in twelve years.

Emma had borrowed them without asking the night she disappeared. Someone had gotten inside the apartment. That someone had to be the same person who killed her sister, keeping that pair of boots all this time until they could return them to her.

Shae managed to gain her composure enough to quickly scan the open layout, looking for any hiding spot that would conceal a fully-grown man. She spun around and faced the bathroom, where the door stood half-open. Was he in there, hiding behind the shower curtain?

She didn’t stop to think as she ran for the front door.

Shae crossed the threshold and would most likely have stumbled down the steps had Jace not been standing at the top of the staircase to catch her.

She was in his arms before he could ask her what was wrong. Not even the warmth of his embrace could chase away the chill burrowed deep inside at the sight of those boots purposefully placed inside the apartment just as if she’d unpacked them herself.

“Shae?”

Jace would have pushed her away had she not done it herself first. She grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him downstairs. They needed the police. A bubble of hysteria tickled her throat at the thought of calling Kyle Foster, but someone could very well still be inside her bathroom.

“We have to go,” Shae said somewhat desperately, quickly moving around him and trying to put distance between them and the possible danger that lurked inside the shadows. “He’s inside my apartment. We need to call the—”

“Go downstairs,” Jace barked, somehow managing to get his wrist out of her tight grasp. She snatched his shirt, not sure if he understood what she was staying. “Tell Noah and Lance the same—”

“You can’t go in there, Jace.” Shae desperately tried to tug at his arm once more, needing him to come downstairs with her. This was a matter for the police. “He was inside my apartment. He’s probably still in there somewhere.”

Shae had been flicking her gaze from him to the open door behind them, checking to see if he was coming after them. The nausea that had previously threatened to overtake her was edging ever closer. Why wouldn’t Jace listen to her?

“H-he put Emma’s boots in there,” Shae whispered, her throat closing as another nail was hammered into her belief that Emma was dead. Her mind had always accepted that principle, but her heart would eternally hold out hope. Those boots would forever remain seared into her mind. “He—”

A sob caught in the back of her throat, cutting off her words.

“Stay here.”

Jace moved away from her so fast that her fingers never even loosened from her fist before she could stop him. It was then she noticed that he was wearing a holster and the firearm rested in the palm of his hand as he cautiously entered the studio apartment. It had never even occurred to her to grab the one out of her purse.

She held her breath and strained to hear any sounds over the music in the bar below. She was certain that he was in danger.

Twenty seconds later he emerged, his features practically set in stone.

Shae hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for him to say she’d imagined it all… that no one had invaded her privacy and a twisted serial killer hadn’t left the ankle boots her sister had worn the night she’d disappeared.

She didn’t fight him when he took her in his arms, offering her the security she so desperately needed.

Her presence in town had drawn a monster out of hiding.

It took a moment for Shae to recognize the penetrating and raw emotion that washed over her— rage. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, thankfully casting her relentless grief and remorse aside as if they were nothing.

She might have lured a monster from his lair, but he’d awakened something even more terrifying— a woman now bent solely on revenge.

 

 

About the Keys to Love Series

Their homecoming wasn’t so welcoming. Four brothers and one sister each gave twelve years of their lives to serve their country and fulfill their family’s legacy of service. As each of them return to their home of record, they weren’t prepared for what awaited them—an unforgivable sin that has been hidden for twelve long years. Secrets and lies are concealed in the dark shadows of the very town they were raised in, and the Kendall family will have no choice but to rely on one another to unravel the sinister evil that they all hold the keys to unlock.

 

Missed UNLOCKING FEAR or UNLOCKING SECRETS and want to catch up? You can grab the first two books in the Keys to Love series now!

 

About UNLOCKING FEAR

A chance mishap with a sledgehammer was the sole reason a chilling nightmare was unleashed in Blyth Lake.

Noah Kendall’s grisly discovery left him in the middle of a murder investigation and a neighbor who knew more than she was willing to say. Reese Woodward had returned to town with dark secrets, and he was determined to unravel them. While evil lurks in the darkness, seduction burns between them…only time was their enemy.

Will her secrets destroy what they’ve built, or can he earn her trust before the killer strikes again?

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About UNLOCKING SECRETS

A grim discovery in Lance Kendall’s home proved one thing—the residents of Blyth Lake had a serial killer in their midst. Now Lance had unintentionally put a target on his back. Worst yet, he’s made the only woman he ever loved known to a murderer.

A trip down memory lane with the man who’d broken Brynn Mercer’s heart wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done in her life, but their reunion was a slow burn of temptation that she couldn’t ignore.

Together, they will only have one chance to correct the past. Will the hidden secrets he uncovered threaten their love or solidify it for a future that has always been out of their reach?

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About Kennedy Layne

Kennedy Layne is a USA Today bestselling author. She draws inspiration for her military romantic suspense novels in part from her not-so-secret second life as a wife of a retired Marine Master Sergeant. He doubles as her critique partner, beta reader, and military consultant. They live in the Midwest with their teenage son and menagerie of pets. The loyal dogs and mischievous cats appreciate her writing days as much as she does, usually curled up in front of the fireplace. She loves hearing from readers–find out how to connect with her at www.kennedylayne.com.

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New Release + Release Blitz: Rogue Royalty by Meghan March

 

 

 

Unthinkable. Unbelievable. Inconceivable.

I don’t recognize what my life has become. I can’t tell where the lies end and the truth begins anymore.

He came into my world and urged me out of my safe little corner.

All my dreams are coming true except the one thing I want most— my own happy ending.

But I’ll fight for it.

For now.

For always.

 

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Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet.

I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own.
I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me.
Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third.
My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t.
But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet.
I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness.
Hopefully it doesn’t kill us both.

Savage Prince is book one of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King, however you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot new story.

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He’s a mystery. An enigma.

His very identity is a secret buried beneath layers of deception.

He’s also an addiction I can’t shake. An attraction I can’t fight.

And then I found out exactly who he is—a man more dangerous than the devil himself.

Now I need him in order to save everything that matters to me.

I have to pull back. Protect myself from the danger that haunts his every step.

Which would be easy . . . if I could stop myself from falling in love with him.

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A New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels, Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

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