Excerpt Reveal + Pre-Order: Fearless by Carly Phillips

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From Wall Street Journal and New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips comes a powerful new story of love, hope and redemption, of finding light in the darkest places.

Fearless, an all- new emotional standalone by Carly Phillips is coming March 20!


Fall in love with the Wards…

Mechanic and garage owner, Kane Harmon is used to the wealthy beautiful women visiting his beach town. He doesn’t get involved because he knows most females would merely be slumming for the summer.

Except Halley Ward isn’t just passing through. She lives a solitary life in a bungalow on the beach. A woman tormented by her past, distant from her wealthy family, different from Kane’s usual fare of town girls who know his M.O.- Don’t expect more than he’s willing to give.

Kane rescues Halley and her broken down car from the side of the road and instantly he’s hooked. She says she’s not interested in him. He knows she lies. And he makes it his mission to bring her back to life, to return her emotionally to her family. To show her the colors around her were as vibrant as the ones she puts on her canvas.

Until past meets present and threatens all the progress they’ve made. Then it’s Halley’s turn to step up and stand up for the relationship and life she’s finally coming to believe she deserves


He nipped at her lip one last time, swiped his tongue over her in a soothing motion before pulling back and gazing into her eyes.

“So much better than I fucking imagined,” he said in a gruff voice.

She let out a hesitant laugh as reality drifted back and settled on her shoulders. “Kane…”

“No regrets,” he warned her.

She shook her head. “I don’t. I can’t regret that kiss. But you need to know, I’m not a good bet for a relationship.”

He narrowed his gaze, that heady stare still hot on hers. “What makes you say that?”

She swallowed hard. “I’m different. You know that about me. I like being alone. I work hard, get lost in my paintings. I forget what time it is. Sometimes I don’t pay attention to days and nights. I spend more time alone than with people and most guys don’t want a girl they can’t take out with their friends because she doesn’t like big crowds.” There. She’d said it all, put her truths out there for him to hear.

Not all of her truths, of course. There were some she didn’t drag into the light of day. Ever. She didn’t even allow them in her nightmares if she could help it. The problem was, sometimes she couldn’t control her dreams. She wished she could.

“And?” he asked, as if what she’d said meant nothing.

“I’ve had unsuccessful relationships. And do you want to know why they were unsuccessful? Because I’m odd,” she said before he could answer. “And they got frustrated with me and broke things off. So I don’t do relationships anymore. I don’t like disappointing people and I don’t like being hurt when things inevitably end.”


She opened her eyes wide. “That’s all you have to say? Hmm?”

An understanding smile curved his lips. “You’re forgetting that I know you and I like what I see. I’m not looking to change you. And I’m not looking to force you into a relationship you don’t want.”

She blinked and braced herself up with a hand on the sand. “You aren’t?”

He shook his head. “I like you. I like spending time with you. And yeah, I like kissing you. A fuck of a lot. And I plan to do it more often. But trap you in a relationship if that’s not what you want?” He shook his head. “Not happening.”

She swiped her tongue over her kiss-roughened lips. “I don’t know what to say.” Nor did she know what to make of his proclamation and easy acceptance.

“I like you and you like me, yes?”

She nodded.

“And the kiss, it was good?” he asked, stroking a hand down her cheek and eliciting a shiver that went straight to her already erect and aware nipples and down to her sex.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Then let’s not overanalyze or examine what this is or isn’t. My life is crazy what with the garage, my father, my nephew who hangs around every day… and now a side gig that I definitely enjoy.” He gestured back to her deck. “No need to label and complicate things.”

She was surprised to hear him be so nonchalant. With his pursuit of a date and him showing up here to build her deck in his limited spare time, she definitely thought he wanted something serious.

If he didn’t, if he could accept who she was and what she could give, then she didn’t see an issue with letting things be and taking it one day at a time.

“So are we on the same page?” he asked, his lips brushing over hers. “We have fun? We enjoy each other? And we don’t put pressure on either one of us with expectations?”

“Agreed,” she said, wondering why her stomach tumbled over the idea that he didn’t want her for anything more than just a good time. He’d given her exactly what she’d asked for.


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Meet Carly Phillips:

Carly Phillips is the N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of over 50 sexy contemporary romance novels, including the Indie published, Dare to Love Series. She is happily married to her college sweetheart, the mother of two nearly adult daughters and three crazy dogs. Carly loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers.


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Excerpt Reveal + Pre-Order: Two Wedding Crashers by Meghan Quinn



I don’t know what love is anymore.

Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.

You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?

Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.

Except I haven’t felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem–but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?

That’s how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.

It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I’m a pro. I can handle this.

Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I’m doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don’t think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.






Crystal-blue ocean shines below me, and if I wasn’t so scared of Zoey and her repercussions for being late, I would take the time to appreciate Mother Nature. Instead I hurry into my room, flop my suitcase on my bed, unzip it, and grab my toiletries.

Not taking a second longer, I strip down, leaving my gross airplane clothes on the floor, and practically skip to the shower where I stop mid stride.

In the shower stall is a black razor, with accompanying shaving cream. That’s odd. Is that courtesy of the hotel? This place is fancy, but not that fancy. Spinning on my heel, I turn toward the sink behind me and spot a white and green toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and men’s cologne. Shit, turning toward the room, my eyes frantically roam the space, spotting a black suitcase in the corner.

Shit, shit, shit.

Naked, I cover my breasts with my arm and open the closet door only to come face to face with a few hung-up shirts.

Yup . . . I’m in someone else’s fucking room.

And whoever this room belongs to is the neatest person ever because who honestly lines up there toothbrush and toothpaste tube perfectly on the counter?

Reaching for the phone, I call down to the front desk.

“Mr. Wilder, how can we assist you?” Oh yeah, totally not in the correct room.

“Uh, yeah, hi, this is Rylee Ryan. I just checked in. I was given the key to room 625 and it seems to be occupied.”

“Oh dear, let me check.” There is a pause on the phone and then the lady comes on the line again. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. Ryan. We have you in room 626. Would you like to come down here and grab a new key?”

Is she kidding? The trek it took to get over here ate up enough of my time. I can’t possibly take a shower if I have to run back to the lobby, grab a key, and run all the way back here.

“Would you mind bringing it to room 625? I have dinner plans and have to get changed.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll send someone up with a key right away.”

“Thank you.”

I hop around naked, eyeing my pukey clothes on the floor and the shower in the other room. Twisting my lip to the side, I try to decide what to do. I can be super quick, like really fucking quick. I just need to scrub the puke and throw on a dress, simple. Two minutes tops. The water doesn’t even have to be warm. I’ll write a polite note to Mr. Wilder—whoever that is—leave him five dollars as a kind gesture and quietly leave. No problem with that. Right?


Turning on the shower, I hop in before the water can warm up and hiss from the frosty temperature. I douse soap all over my hands and scrub my neck and body vigorously first, which normally I would wash my hair first but . . . puke. Once I’m satisfied with the amount of scrubbing, I wash my hair, condition it in a minute, do one more soap scrubbing all over my body before rinsing and turning the shower off. Two minutes.

Just in case Mr. Wilder is sitting outside the bathroom, I peek my head out the door, towel wrapped around my body, and call out, “Hello?”

When there is no response, I check that the coast is clear then strut to my suitcase and find a simple black sundress. Not bothering to look for underwear or a bra—I really don’t need one with my perky B-cups—I lay out my dress and dry off.

Hopefully Mr. Wilder doesn’t mind me using one of his towels or his room for that matter. He’s probably some old dude away on his golfing vacation. I hope I don’t give him a heart attack.

I drape my towel over the bed and run my hands through my naturally wavy, black hair. This will have to do. Picking up my towel one more time, I scrunch my hair, trying to soak up all the water just as the hotel door swings open, light blaring through, a tall, dark silhouette shadowed in the doorframe.

I still, frozen from the tips of my toes to the hand scrunching a towel in my hair.

Toned calves and legs are covered by black board shorts, slick to his thighs, a bulge prominent. Narrow waist where his board shorts ride low on his hips, a black shirt dancing across his broad chest, cinching sleeves cuffed over his biceps, and a V-neck providing a glimpse of how far his tan extends. Head cast down, eyes transfixed on his phone in front of him, he doesn’t notice the naked girl standing in the middle of his hotel room. He stuffs his keycard in his back pocket and looks up, startled.

I scream.

He grumbles something unintelligible as I point out the obvious. “Ahhh, my boobs are naked!” It might be a little concerning that I consider my boobs to be the only things naked at this point.

As quickly as I can, I cover my body, towel making a poor attempt to hide my girly bits.

The man turns away, covering his eyes with his arm while muttering, “Oh shit.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, struggling with my towel. I know damn well the man in front of me must be Mr. Wilder, and this is in fact his room, and I’m the one intruding, but I still feel the need to place the blame on him for walking in on me naked.

“Grabbing my sunglasses,” he says, his voice terrified but also deep and rumbly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Still trying to cover myself, I scramble to grab my dress and back up to the bathroom. “Washing my neck,” I answer, nervously, boobs swaying with my erratic movements.

Eyes still covered, he keeps his back toward me but straightens up. “Washing your neck? Is that code for some kind of weird Key West thing?”

I back into the bathroom and make quick attempt of putting my dress over my head and righting it so everything is covered up. Hair still damp as well as my body, I step out into the room and clear my throat, dress sticking to my damp skin. “No, it’s not code for anything. I really had to wash my neck.”

“And you chose my room to do that in, because . . .”

Bending down, I shove my dirty clothes in my bag and zip up, giving Mr. Wilder the heads-up that I’m dressed. At least he’s a gentleman . . .

When he turns around, he eyes me up and down, his gaze curious and heated when he sees just how hard my nipples are from the cold shower . . . and the unexpected peep show.

“I didn’t choose your room to take a shower in.” I move my suitcase to the floor and pull up the handle. “The hotel gave me the key to this room by mistake, and since I had puke on my neck from the airplane—long story—I decided to take a quick shower while I waited for my room. I apologize for taking up your space, but I think we’re skipping an important detail here.” I cock my hand on my hip. “You saw me naked.”

“No, I didn’t,” he retorts rather quickly, despite the slow grin that spreads across his face.

I’m calling bullshit. “You totally saw my boobs.”

“I really didn’t. Your scream scared the shit out of me. I didn’t have enough time to see anything before you covered up.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, I ask, “You promise you didn’t see anything?”


Hmm. “Okay, because being hotel neighbors and all, that would be extremely awkward if you saw me naked.”

“Good thing I didn’t then.” He rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. Finally he reaches out to the desk next to him and holds up his black Ray Bans. “Just needed my sunglasses.”





Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

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Excerpt Reveal: White Knight by CD Reiss


White Knight an All-new romantic standalone from New York Times bestselling author CD Reiss is coming March 6th!


Catherine’s long-lost love is found.

Catherine Barrington is a rich girl. Chris Cartwright is a poor boy.

He left her to make something of himself. A man she could be proud of. A man she could bring home to her parents. A man she could marry.

On the trading floor he became the man he knew he could be. Now, it’s time to return.

Rich girl.

Poor boy.

She didn’t care about his money, but he didn’t believe her. Soon after he left, all the money was gone.

Her life is hell.

Now he’s back, and he’s different. Pristine. Gorgeous. Rich.

Rich boy.

Poor girl.

Money was never the barrier, until now.


White Knight is a standalone in the same world as King of Code, with its own beginning, middle, and end. You don’t need to read anything else to read White Knight.


Leaning on the bleachers, Chris cracked peanuts between his teeth and spit the shells. I hadn’t seen him in days and it seemed like years. Every time I saw the kick of his hips and the way his lips stretched across his teeth when he smiled, it seemed like the first time.

I watched him.

He watched me.

School started the next day. We’d go back into our different worlds. Would we meet again? Would we see each other at all? We’d grappled with the question by avoiding it.

A waft of smoke from the grills came between us.

We were alone. Surrounded by people, we were alone.

He pitched his peanut bag in the trash and washed it back with a bottle of off-brand cola. When he finished, he sucked in his bottom lip to catch an errant drop.

He tossed the bottle up. It spun in the air, and with a tap of his knuckle on its way down, he sent it into the trash.

I stepped toward him, and he stepped back. Not away. He stepped back toward something, flicking his finger that I should follow.

Easiest decision I’d ever made. It was barely even a decision.

I glanced around for Mom and Dad. They were in the gazebo with Badger, the new mayor, and his staff. Harper and the kids played with the puppies while Johnny and his wife watched. Lance jaunted around the perimeter, peeing on poles whenever he could, nipping back any sibling who got too big for their britches, ever the alpha.

I tilted directions slightly toward the bathrooms, then once past the bleachers, I saw Chris peeking from an alley between the hardware store and the library. I picked up my skirt and ran toward him, cutting the corner so hard I lost my balance. Out of nowhere, his hand was on my arm, keeping me from falling over.

Finger to lips, he led me to a black iron door. He clinked through his keys and opened it, stepping out of the way so I could pass through. We were in an office.

He closed the door with a loud clap, leaving the window as the only light.


I barely got out the S before his lips kissed his name away. He put his hands on my jaw, keeping it still so he could invade my mouth. It felt good to give it to him. My body lost all its strength, held up only by the electrical currents between us.

“Catherine,” he said in a breath, keeping his lips an inch from my face as he spoke.

“Where are we?”

“Back of the hardware store. I open on Thursdays.”

“What are we going to do? I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of not seeing you anymore.”

“I’ll find you.”

I clutched his shirt as if I’d be swept away without him. “I don’t fit in anywhere. Harper is so smart she tolerates me. The only time I feel right, like I’m part of something, like I belong, is when I’m with you.”

“One more year. Then you can go to college and I’ll come after. We’ll be so far away, we’ll forget our names. When people ask where we’re from, we won’t even know.”

“I don’t know if we’ll make it a year. I feel like they see us. Even now.”

I must have been shaking, because he put his arms around me so tightly it hurt. I loved the pain of his attention. It was the pain of safety, of care, of being broken just enough for release.

“Harder,” I said into his shoulder.

He squeezed me so tightly I could just barely breathe, and the tension rolled off me like water.

He let his arms go slack enough to look me in the face. “We’ll make it. Then I’ll follow you anywhere. I’ll be your puppy dog.”

“Oh, Chris, don’t be silly.”

“Don’t deny me. I’m yours.” He said the last word with a gusto I’d never associated with myself. As if life was something to grab with both hands and free like a bird that could carry us into the sky.

Together, we were freedom.

The bird launched from my chest and flew to my lips when we kissed again. Not a kiss of relief this time, but a kiss of passion. Ours was a kiss that began a string of thoughtless acts.

His hands slid down my body, grazing my breasts, landing at my waist. I felt the hardness under his jeans. I should have been scared, or freaked out, or ashamed, but I wasn’t. I was free.

He broke the kiss and stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. “Should we go back?”

“No.” I took his wrist and put his hand on the triangle below my belly.

He gasped and his lashes fluttered. Seeing that he liked it sent my body to the edge of common sense. This was crazy and I didn’t care. Being the good girl hurt, and this felt good.

“My parents have to stay at the barbecue,” I said. “That’s their job.”

He hesitated. Swallowed hard. Pinched a bit of my skirt fabric.

I nodded.

Preorder White Knight Today!

White Knight will be exclusively on Amazon starting March 6th so grab it while you can on other retailers!!

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About CD

CDReissCD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up she’s at the well hauling buckets.

Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.

She’s frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn’t ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.

If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

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Excerpt Reveal: Hot Daddy by Lila Monroe


Welcome to the Billionaire Bachelors series, where the sexiest men in the city are about to meet their match…

Playboy CEO, Cal McAdams, lives life in the fast lane: hot women, hotter deals, and… a fake fiancee? I signed on to help reform his reckless image and win custody of his god-children, but I wasn’t expecting to come face-to-face (and mouth-to-mouth) with my wild Vegas hook-up from three years ago.

AKA, 6”3 of tanned muscle, sharp suits, and ‘undress me’ eyes.
AAKA, the best thigh-clenching, bed-shaking sex of my life.
AAAKA, the man who couldn’t be more off-limits if he had a uranium belt wrapped around his, um, assets.

I’ve never been one to break the rules, but Cal has me wanting to rip them up – and roll around naked on the scrap paper. But with just three weeks to turn this bachelor into a DILF, can we keep our crazy chemistry from derailing his plans? Or will gold-digging relatives, rambunctious pre-teens, and a little thing called love leave us both crashed out of the race?

Find out in the new sexy, hilarious romantic comedy from Lila Monroe!



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I’ve been stranded at the hotel bar in Vegas alone for exactly twenty seconds before a guy sidles in beside me. “Buy you a drink?”

I glance up. He’s at least twenty years my senior, with pleated khakis and an obvious comb-over. I shake my head and smile tightly. “Got one, thanks.”

“Aw, come on now,” he says, plunking himself down in the empty seat beside me. “You in town for the conference?” Then, in spite of the fact that I haven’t asked: “Medical devices.”

His name is Greg, he continues; he sells surgical equipment and has a hundred dollar per diem he hasn’t blown through yet today, if I want to rethink that drink offer. “I’ll spring for nachos too,” he says magnanimously. “I’m a generous guy.”

I’m sweeping the room for the closest exit, contemplating an escape worthy of Danny Ocean himself, when a hand lands on the back of my barstool. “Hey babe,” a deep voice says casually. “Making friends?”

I whip around. This guy would look right at home with Clooney and Pitt. He’s tall and dark-haired, wearing a shirt rolled halfway to his elbows and an expression that clearly says, just go with it. “I got my ass beat at roulette,” he continues with a sheepish grin. “There goes private school for the kids, right?” He sticks his hand out to medical device guy. “Cal. The husband.”

I almost choke on my paloma. Still, something about the sheer ballsiness of this particular play–and, okay, how hot this guy is–has me playing along. “Hey hon,” I say, laying a hand on his pleasantly solid bicep. “Greg here was just telling me all about the free swag at the medical device conference in town.”

Greg’s gaze darts from me to Cal, then back again. “I guess I’ll leave y’all to it, then.”

“Good to meet you,” I lie, smiling my cheeriest smile.

Once he’s gone I turn to Cal. “So, on a scale of like, one to Disney Princess, how badly did I look like I needed rescuing?”

Cal tilts his head to the side, considering. “I mean, your undisguised expression of misery kind of gave it away.”

“Maybe that’s just how my face is!” I protest, laughing in spite of myself. “Resting miserable face.”

“Eh. Maybe.” Cal shrugs, all confidence as he settles himself onto Greg’s recently vacated barstool. “You don’t look so miserable now.”

Right away I feel my cheeks flush. It’s been a long time since I flirted—or, more accurately, since I was competently flirted with. “So how many kids do we have, exactly?”

“Not too many,” he reassures me, nodding at the bartender for another beer. “Like six or seven, max.”

“Six or seven!” I snort. “And here you are just gambling their lunch money away like some kind of degenerate.”

Cal nods gravely. “I’m a real scoundrel,” he agrees.

“Clearly.” I stick my hand out. “Jules Robinson.”

“Nice to meet you, Jules Robinson.” He gives good handshake, firm but not bone-crushing, all long fingers and the faintest scrape of callus on his palm. His eyes are a deep, friendly brown. “So what brings you to Vegas?” he asks.

“I’m with a girlfriend,” I explain. “Or I was, anyway. At the moment she’s out on an… exploratory mission.”

Cal grins. “Sounds exhilarating.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” I assure him. “What about you? What are you doing in town?”

“Auditioning for Thunder from Down Under,” he says immediately. Then, off my laugh: ”Callback, actually. I aced the first round, they couldn’t get enough of me.”

“Right, no, obviously.” The ads for the all-male revue were plastered all over the strip when we got here this afternoon: beefy, longhaired guys in bow ties, cummerbunds, and not much else. “So what’s your character?” I ask, rattling the ice in my mostly-empty glass. “Sexy fireman, sexy cop…?”

“Sexy medical device salesman,” he deadpans. “See, you’re laughing, but I have a whole bit I do with the x-ray machine. It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

Casino bars don’t ever really empty out, but this one is taking on a distinct after-hours vibe, low light and quiet conversations; the Bud-guzzling bachelor party bros are long gone. When I finally check my phone to see if Kelly’s texted—she has, she’s safe, and she’s having a truly epic time with her mountain man—I realize it’s after one. “Holy shit,” I blurt. “How’d it get to be so late?”

Cal raises his eyebrows. “Keeping you up?”

“What? No!” I blurt, immediately embarrassed by how eager I sound. “We just had an early flight out this morning, that’s all. I’ve been up for like twenty hours.”

“I’m teasing you, princess.” He smiles at me then, slow and easy. It’s the most intimate smile of my entire life. It’s a smile like sitting in front of a campfire in October and reading the paper in bed on Sunday morning; it’s a smile, frankly, like getting good and fucked by a man who knows you down to your most essential particles. “You wanna get out of here?” he asks.

I knew it was coming but still there’s something bracingly scandalous about the idea, being propositioned by a total stranger. I’m imagining it now, I can’t help it: that broad chest pressed against mine and his capable-looking mouth on my neck, long fingers reaching down between my legs and—

“Tempting,” I tell him truthfully, laying a palm against my flaming face. “But I probably shouldn’t.”

To his credit Cal keeps smiling, a little rueful; he doesn’t try to convince me, either, just touches my arm and catches the bartender’s eye to settle up. “Fair enough,” he tells me, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “Well, it was really nice to be married to you for five minutes, Jules Robinson.”

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling my whole body get warm. “It was nice to be married to you for five minutes, too.”

I’m surprised by the sharp pang of longing behind my ribs as I watch him go a moment later, the strange sense that I’ve somehow given up more than just a roll in starchy white hotel sheets. Still, it’s not like I’m about to just get up and follow him out of here. He probably does this every night, sure. But I’ve never had a one night stand in my entire life.

I’ve never had a one-night stand in my entire life.

The thought stops me—after all, I’m a grown-ass woman with a newly minted law degree, aren’t I? I’ve got nobody to answer to but myself. And this is Vegas. What happens here, et cetera. I swallow down the rest of my tequila, set the glass back down on the bar. “Hey Cal!” I call, slinging my purse over my shoulder and hopping down off my barstool as quickly as my tiny dress allows. “Wait up.”


VERY IRRESISTIBLE PLAYBOY (Billionaire Bachelors #1) – available now.

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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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Excerpt Reveal + Pre-Order: Baby Daddy by Kendall Ryan




A hot and hilarious new standalone from New York Times bestseller Kendall Ryan.


We met in a trapped elevator.

Emmett was on his way to work, sophisticated and handsome in his tailored suit and tie.

I was on my way to the sperm bank. Awkward, right?

At thirty-five, my life hadn’t taken the path I thought it would and I was tired of waiting—I wanted a baby. And I was ready to take matters into my own hands to make it happen.

After our ill-fated elevator encounter, Emmett insisted on taking me to dinner—he also insisted on something else—that I ditch my plan involving a turkey baster and let him do the job. He would be my baby daddy. He was a wealthy and powerful CEO with little interest in diapers or playdates. And since he didn’t want kids, I’d be on my own once his bun was in my oven, free to go my own way.

But once his baby was inside me, it was like a switch had been flipped, and I got a whole lot more than I ever bargained for.

This full-length standalone contains a hot, swoonworthy hero, lots of playful banter and some hot baby-making ! Enjoy.


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I love my dick.

That’s a fact.

And I’m not afraid to admit he’s both my best friend and my most trusted advisor. Sure, he’s gotten me into some tight spots over the years—pun very much intended—but that’s what makes life fun, right? I wouldn’t trade our relationship for the world. He stands tall and proud . . . and when he spots something he likes? He bobs with pleasure, begging to get closer.

And as for me? Well, I trust his judgment. Completely. He didn’t bob for the stunning and funny Laura in accounting. I knew there was a reason, and as it turns out, she’s a bit of a klepto. Three hundred seventy-two staplers kind of klepto.

But I’m not a total douchebag, I promise. I’m just a young CEO under immense pressure, so in my downtime, blowing off steam is practically a necessity. It’s my duty to keep my dick happy, and a steady diet of beautiful women keeps us both satisfied. I do what I can to make his life as simple and as easy as possible. Plenty of no-strings sex does the trick.

I find that when he’s well taken care of, I feel better and my brain works efficiently. Shit, my whole life just seems easier.

It’s that simple. I love my dick, and loving my dick makes my entire life better.

When my dick perks up in interest, begging for a taste of the woman we’re stranded with in a stuck elevator for two hours, I listen to his dirtiest wishes and ask her out to dinner. But the last thing I expect her to say is that she’s not interested in my dick. She’s just interested in the stuff inside, the stuff that can give her the baby she so desperately wants. No strings attached.

Who am I to say no?

Welcome to the craziest ride my dick’s ever gotten me into.



A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 1.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. She’s a traditionally published author with Simon & Schuster and Harper Collins UK, as well as an independently published author. Since she first began self-publishing in 2012, she’s appeared at #1 on Barnes & Noble and iBooks charts around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras

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Excerpt Reveal: Gentleman Nine by Penelope Ward



From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.


Growing up, the three of us were friends.

He was the nerd.

I was the playboy.

She was the beauty.


Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits.

He lied.


I went off to college, and he got the girl.

Amber never knew how I felt.

They were together for years—before he broke her heart.


Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch.

When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.


Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men.

One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life. She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings.

Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.

Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message.

She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend— me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.)

Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Nine at a hotel.

When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she got the surprise of her life to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse.




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Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers.

That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.




My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.

Holy shit.

I read it again.

And again.

And again.

I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory.

She wanted to use another man to f*ck me out of her system?

That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as f*ck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.



Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-year-old girl with autism and a 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

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Other standalones from Penelope Ward:

Drunk Dial:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2fXfzKn
iBooks: http://apple.co/2tq7dRz
Nook: http://bit.ly/2xeEH2H
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ihXnMD

Mack Daddy:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWzE1S
iBooks: http://apple.co/2iNrIPj
Nook: http://hyperurl.co/aiypfj
Kobo: http://hyperurl.co/r3hv19

Stepbrother Dearest:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1mFNMeg
iBooks: http://bit.ly/YER0mT
Nook: http://bit.ly/1taMFjG
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1fJaaBs

Neighbor Dearest:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2aWvypX
iBooks: http://apple.co/29mC6L8
Nook: http://bit.ly/2akQ2aq
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2axt1SY

Amazon: http://amzn.to/294lIeT
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PgsvE7
Nook: http://bit.ly/1PLGnSL
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1POvSnW

Dear Bridget, I Want You: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://smarturl.it/kh2bxf
iBooks: http://smarturl.it/y4x3xi
Nook: http://smarturl.it/o780mb
Kobo: http://smarturl.it/kfgc6a
Mister Moneybags: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ny7GhN
iBooks: http://smarturl.it/3y1tuq
Nook: http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m
Kobo: http://smarturl.it/qqf5ho

Playboy Pilot: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2dbetFA
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf
Nook: http://bit.ly/2c9vRdV
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ctb6dv

Stuck-Up Suit: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1S3LnpZ
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57
Nook: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/stuck-up-suit

Cocky Bastard: (co-written with Vi Keeland)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1MvHLg2
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PffE2J
Nook: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO
Sins of Sevin:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1F9tbc3
iBooks: http://apple.co/1K8mzGg
Nook: http://bit.ly/1hTKAKE
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1OaGY3D

Jake Undone (Jake #1):
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1dJrHBC
Nook: http://bit.ly/1obAwJ6
iBooks: http://apple.co/1fJayQ8
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1SPKl0M

Jake Understood (Jake #2):
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GFdves
Nook: http://bit.ly/1FwJC0z
iBooks: http://apple.co/1DQQwgC
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1LQ7Fvk

My Skylar
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1obOG2F
iBooks: http://bit.ly/SLNOTR
Nook: http://bit.ly/SLO1qi
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1kNrtAB

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1vgk1SE
Nook: http://bit.ly/1KfmLHD
iBooks: http://apple.co/1QTaONj
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1BGJ2wu

Excerpt Reveal: Nobody Does It Better by Lexi Blake


A spy who specializes in seduction

Kayla Summers was an elite CIA double agent, working inside China’s deadly MSS. Now, she works for McKay-Taggart London, but the Agency isn’t quite done with her. Spy master Ezra Fain needs her help on a mission that would send her into Hollywood’s glamorous and dangerous party scene. Intrigued by the mission and the movie star hunk she will be shadowing, she eagerly agrees. When she finds herself in his bed, she realizes she’s not only risking her life, but her heart.

A leading man who doesn’t do romance

Joshua Hunt is a legend of the silver screen. As Hollywood’s highest paid actor, he’s the man everyone wants to be, or be with, but something is missing. After being betrayed more than once, the only romance Josh believes in anymore is on the pages of his scripts. He keeps his relationships transactional, and that’s how he likes it, until he meets his new bodyguard. She was supposed to keep him safe, and satisfied when necessary, but now he’s realizing he may never be able to get enough of her.

An ending neither could have expected

Protecting Joshua started off as a mission, until it suddenly felt like her calling. When the true reason the CIA wanted her for this assignment is revealed, Kayla will have to choose between serving her country or saving the love of her life.





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Kobo, and Smashwords coming soon!



“You look beautiful like this.”

Kayla didn’t respond because they were in the dungeon. She wasn’t sure of all the protocols Josh would use. Some Doms preferred their subs remain silent in the dungeon.

A big hand touched her head, palm covering her scalp. “Naturally you have perfect form. Did you learn this at The Garden? I’ve heard of it, you know. It’s so exclusive even I can’t get in. I was jealous of Jared when he got a membership to Sanctum. I don’t like being left out.”

He was an interesting combination of strong Dom and wayward boy. There were major gaps in his history, long periods of time that remained unaccounted for, and that couldn’t mean anything good. A good life tended to be documented carefully. What had happened to him between the time he left his foster home and the moment he showed up on Hollywood’s radar? What had happened that made him forever need to belong, even if it meant buying his way in?

“You can talk, pet. Unless I give you specific instructions, I never mean to silence your voice.”

“If we go to London or Dallas, I can get you into both,” she offered. “They’re wonderful clubs. Completely different experiences, but both amazing. The Doms in charge are private bastards.”

“I belong to a club in Dallas.” His hand came off her head and his feet disappeared. “It’s very nice.”

She knew the one he was talking about. “Well, then if we’re in Dallas, you can take me someplace new. I’ve heard The Club is lovely and that Julian Lodge knows how to treat his clients. It’s probably better than Ian Taggart. Ian treats everyone like we’re still in the Army and he’s the general in charge.”

“Lodge is polite, but I still feel like I’m on the outside any place other than The Reef.”

She heard the door to the closet open and took a long breath. “It’s good to have a place where you belong.”

She couldn’t see what he was doing. It was part of the glorious mind fuck that got her adrenaline going.

“You seem to belong a lot of places.”

“I have a membership to The Garden and Sanctum, but only because of my work status. I feel weird in Sanctum. For a long time I was on the opposite side of Ian Taggart—well, he thought I was on the opposite side. No one was allowed to know my true identity except my handler and his boss. It’s the curse of the double agent. Sometimes you feel like no one believes you at all because you’ve become such a master at lying.”

She was surprised that came out as easily as it had. Her former career wasn’t something she liked to talk about, but something about being in the dungeon always made her vulnerable. In many ways, the dungeon was the only place she did talk about what had happened to her. It was her confessional, the one place she could be vulnerable because she knew there would be absolution.

“Do you still lie?”

“I try not to. In my daily life, I don’t lie at all. I don’t care enough to lie. I can be too harsh at times because I gave all my fucks up a long time ago.” Except that I’ll lie to you. I’ll lie because my job and my friends are all I really care about anymore.

Yeah, she didn’t say that part out loud.

“I like honesty,” he said. “No, I require it. I can’t stand people blowing sunshine up my ass. I have far too much of that every day. It makes you wonder who to trust. It’s why I like Jared. I don’t think he’s smart enough to lie.”

“That feels rough.”

“I guess I gave away all my fucks, too. Eyes up.”

She brought her eyes to meet his gaze and couldn’t help the shiver of desire that went through her body. He’d shed his shirt and every bit of dietary restraint showed in his perfectly cut body. Wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans, he stared down at her. There was no way to miss the bulge in his denims. Joshua Hunt was built on long, lean lines, but that erection was anything but lean. It was a massive beast restrained by denim.

He held a crop in his hand, looking every inch the dark, decadent Dom.


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.