Release Blitz + Excerpt: Dirty Rich One Night Stand

Lisa Renee Jones is back with a sexy, stunning STANDALONE: DIRTY RICH ONE NIGHT STAND!

TITLE: Dirty, Rich One Night Stand

GENRE: Contemporary Steamy Romance

RELEASE DATE: October 18, 2017

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

DIRTY, RICH ONE NIGHT STAND.

That’s all it was supposed to be. Her. Him. Pleasure. And then a fast goodbye. He’s a stranger. And yet, he’s not. She knows him even though he doesn’t know her.

He’s the powerful attorney, now world-renowned after coming off the trial of a century which was publicized across the country. And I’m one of the reporters that sat in his courtroom.

I watched him, studied him, got to know him from afar which isn’t hard since I know his exact brand of confidence, arrogance, and wealth.

I know his type. I’ve dated his type. Which is why when I happen to come face to face with him, when sparks fly and heat simmers between us, I know what happens if I say “yes” to Reese Summer. 

I know he’ll taste like sin and sex, even before he kisses me.

I know he’ll feel like pleasure and passion, even before he touches me.

I know he’ll demand more than I wants to give, and yet, because I dare to give myself to him, the result will be deliciously hot.

I know that I will not leave his bed without being utterly, completely sated. 

And I know that I will leave the next morning anyway.

And so, I do. 

And so, he follows.

And as chase begins my question becomes: Is Reese Summer THE one or is he really just a dirty, arrogant lie that should have stayed a one night stand?

BUY LINKS:

Amazon US: http://bit.ly/DirtyRichAmazon

Amazon CA: http://bit.ly/DirtyRichAmazonCA

Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/DirtyRichAmazonUK

EXCERPT

“You’re as perfect as I knew you would be,” he says, his voice managing to be both sandpaper and silk on my nerve endings, as he adds, “and almost as naked as I want you to be.” 

The idea that he has wanted me as much as I have wanted him does funny things to my stomach, but more so, delivers an unexpected wave of illogical vulnerability. This is sex. The end. I don’t want or need to feel anything more. I want and need him naked and fucking me now, fast, hard. That’s safe. Desperate to find that safe place, to shift the control from him to me, I push to my toes, my breasts molding to his chest, and press my lips to his lips. They are warm, and he is hard everywhere I am soft.

And his response to my kiss, the answering moan I am rewarded with, is white-hot fire in my blood that he ignites further with a deep, sizzling stroke of his tongue. He slants his mouth over mine, deepening the connection, kissing me with a fierceness no other man ever has, but then some part of me has known from moment one that he is like no man I have ever known. Which explains why he is everything I want. And nothing about this night is what I expected, any more than this man is anything I can control.

But there is something intensely arousing about the idea of trying.

As if claiming I am reaching for the impossible, he molds me closer, his hand between my shoulder blades, his tongue playing wickedly with mine, but I meet him stroke for stroke, arching into him. He cups my ass and pulls me solidly against his erection. He wins this one. Now I am the one moaning, arching into him, and I welcome the intimate connection. I burn for the moment he will be inside me.

But I also want him to burn for this just as much as I do, and I need to touch this man. Really, really, need to touch him. My hand presses between us, and I stroke the hard line of his shaft. Reese tears his mouth from mine, pressing me hard against the pillar supporting the window again, and when his hands leave my body, when his palms press to the concrete above me again, I sense his withdrawal is about control. I was winning. I confirm that as reality when our eyes lock, and the dash of fire in his eyes is lit by one part passion and one part challenge.

“If I slide my fingers between your legs right now,” he says, “are you wet for me? Are you ready for me?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I dare him, testing him, pushing him.

 

 

AUTHOR INFORMATION

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 the bestselling DIRTY MONEY and WHITE LIES series. And will be publishing the first book in her Lilah Love suspense series with Amazon Publishing in March 2018.

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.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and she is active on Twitter and Facebook daily.

AUTHOR SOCIAL LINKS

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLisaReneeJones

Website – http://lisareneejones.com/ 

Newsletter – http://lisareneejones.com/newsletter-sign-up/

Twitter – https://twitter.com/LisaReneeJones

Instagram – http://instagram.com/lisareneejones

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LisaReneeJones

 

 

New Release + Blog Tour + Excerpt: In Pieces by Danielle Pearl

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In Pieces, an all-new brother’s-best-friend standalone from Danielle Pearl is availanow NOW!

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In Pieces by Danielle Pearl

Genre: New Adult Romance

Publishing Date: October 10th, 2017

 

Three years ago she was left in pieces . . . Most college freshmen love the newfound freedom of living on campus, but none of them craves it like Beth Caplan. One ill-fated night when she was fifteen left her locked in a posh prison of private tutors. It’s for the best, everyone said, and maybe it was. But after years of hard work and healing, the one person who never thought of her as broken could be the one to break her all over again. And Beth can’t seem to stay away now any more than she could all those years ago.

As soon as David March learned his best friend’s little sister was enrolling at his school, he promised to look after her, and promised himself he’d keep a safe distance. But the sweet little girl he’d grown up with has transformed into a gorgeous young woman, and she’s attracting attention from people she shouldn’t-like the ex who nearly destroyed her and a strange new student with a disturbing habit of showing up wherever Beth goes. But for David, the most troubling discovery is realizing that he doesn’t just want Beth to be safe. He wants her to be his.

 

Excerpt:

 
David
Present Day

Beth slams the door of the Uber and runs barefoot into the building, her heels dangling from her hand by their straps. I give her a thirty-second head start, clenching my jaw shut to resist calling after her with something I might regret, knowing my temper and the still-potent buzz of alcohol have the potential to create the perfect storm right now.
Beth bypasses the small elevator bank and veers left toward the stairwell, heaving the door open and making sure to slam it loudly behind her.
I shake my head in disapproval, wanting to berate her for even that—taking the stairs alone at night when she knows the elevators are safer. Even if the small part of my brain that’s still somewhat rational admits that my building is relatively safe in general. But it’s her mentality that’s making me crazy. With everything going on right now, and everything she knows about this fucked- up world, why would she take risks with her safety at all?
I shove my hand through my hair and slam my foot into the doorjamb. I just can’t fucking believe her right now! And she has the balls to stomp away from me as if I’m the fucking bad guy?
I haven’t had much occasion for indignation in my life, but right now it’s making me grind my teeth into fucking dust. Because the reality is Beth could get hurt again. She could get hurt worse.
My brain gets caught on that last thought, and I can’t get past it no matter how hard I try. It rages through me until my blood boils over, the buzz of alcohol feeding the flames like gasoline as they fire me back into motion. I crush what’s left of my cigarette under my shoe, and march up the rest of the steps and down our hallway. I’m already reaching for the door with my keys when I realize it’s fucking ajar, and the sight of it incenses me even more.
Could she possibly be any more cavalier with her goddamned safety?
It’s after one in the motherfucking morning! Who the hell leaves their front door open in the middle of the night like an invitation for trouble? Especially someone who, on top of everything else, just spent the entire fucking night drinking. She once told me she thought I was trouble. She has no fucking idea what trouble even is.
I barge through the door, all out of patience and ready to tell her off, but the apartment is dark, the only light glowing from the crack beneath the bedroom door. Beth’s presence would be impossible to miss, though, what with the sound of her tramping around the room, violently yanking and slamming drawers like she wants the whole damned building to feel her wrath.
Well, at least that’s one feeling that is definitely fucking mutual.
I throw the bedroom door open with more force than I intend, and Beth jumps at the reverberating bang as it smacks against the opposite wall. But she catches herself without even glancing my way, continuing about her business like I don’t even fucking exist.
My outrage dissipates as I take her in. Her long blonde hair is haphazardly piled on top of her head, and she’s already changed into a T-shirt and yoga pants. My eyes get stuck on her ass for several seconds before I even process the fact that she’s shoving her shit into her duffle bag.
She yanks open another drawer—the one I’d cleared for her bras and underwear—and panic rolls through me. It doesn’t mix well with the indignation. Or the booze.
Somehow I manage to force enough patience to keep from unloading my every grievance on her at once, and I just stand here glowering, biting back every word I couldn’t wait to get out just moments ago—those words now lodged uncomfortably in my throat, held hostage by that fucking duffel. And suddenly I resent that, too. The fact that Beth has the nerve to vilify me for looking out for her. For taking her out to do something she fucking loves. But more than anything, I resent that I fucking care. That the sight of her packing her things affects me. Not just my feelings—my motherfucking feelings—but my actions, too.
It gives her a kind of control—power. It’s not a dynamic I’m used to with women, and it’s left me a little lost and a lot confused. And even more pissed the fuck off. It’s enough to demolish even my pretense of patience, my composure shattering in one fell swoop, and I spring into action, thrusting myself in front of her in challenge.
“’The fuck are you doing?” I demand.
Beth’s jaw locks, but she just sidesteps around me.
“Beth,” I warn.
She snatches handfuls of panties from her drawer—my drawer—with enough hostility that I worry for the integrity of the delicate lace, and my inebriated mind actually pities them until I remember it’s me she’s fucking pissed at. The appearance of her underwear doesn’t help my focus, either. But watching her shove them purposefully into her bag snaps me back to reality. Or it snaps me the fuck out of my Beth-panty-coma, at least.
“What the fucking hell are you doing?” I repeat as calmly as I can manage—which, it turns out, isn’t calm at all. But where the hell does she think she’s going in the middle of the goddamned night?
“Taking my stuff and going back to my dorm,” Beth deadpans, and it takes me a second to realize she’s not actually kidding.
I shake my head and grab her upper arms. “The fuck you are!”
Beth wrenches from my grip, and I have to release her or risk hurting her, which is not a fucking option. “The fuck I am, is right!” she shouts, skirting back around me to stuff more clothes into her bag.
And, finally, I lose it.
I grab the offending fucking duffle and flop it upside-down, shaking it violently until all of her shit falls onto my bed in an unceremonious pile of all things Beth.
“What the hell are you doing!” she hisses, climbing onto the bed to regather her clothes.
I don’t even think. I take hold of her calves and jerk her knees straight, and she squeals with surprise, falling facedown onto the bed, right atop the heap of clothing. But I don’t back off. I grab her hips and flip her onto her back in one not-so-smooth movement, bending over her and planting my palms on either side of her face in a makeshift cage. Beth’s lips part in a small o of shock, but she can’t escape my gaze, trapped beneath me like she is.
But that goes both ways, and I force myself to close my eyes, and inhale a choppy rush of air before meeting hers.
Something changes when I reopen my eyes. Beth’s temper seems to have dissipated, her dark blonde brows pulled together in helpless bemusement. Her eyes are deep blue oceans, and they draw me in like an undertow, luring me into their shallows before drowning me in their depths.
But, somehow, they calm me, and the anger is drained right out of me as something tugs inside my chest. For a moment I forget how we even got here. All I register are her sharp, shallow breaths as they whisper against my lips in soft gusts.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I know this is dangerous—her lying beneath me like this. It calls to that reckless part of me. The same part that risked dancing with her tonight…that wants to just say fuck it, again and again and again. The part that can’t remember the reasons to stay away.
Beth’s tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, and my dick jumps in my jeans, still swollen and aching, which it has been all night on some level or another. I suck in an uneven breath, the air hissing between my teeth, and I know I need to either get off of her or inside her in the next sixty seconds

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Read Today!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2xswLL1

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2m891Hp

iBooks: http://apple.co/29QG8M2

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2lqOQ7M

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2a5Uafh

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/29TYZHf

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About the Author:

Danielle Pearl is the Amazon and iBooks international best selling author of the Something More series. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and three children. She is a life long book enthusiast who has been writing ever since she could hold a pencil.

Danielle went to Boston University and worked in marketing before she published her first novel, Normal in 2014. She writes mature Mature Young Adult and New Adult Contemporary Romance.

Danielle Pearl.jpg

Connect with the Author:

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

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2yshWx7

Twitter: @DaniPearlAuthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/daniellepearlauthor/

Website: http://www.daniellepearl.com/

Blog Tour + Excerpt: Sick Fux by Tillie Cole

Sick Fux

By Tillie Cole

Buy: Amazon

Synopsis

When Ellis Earnshaw and Heathan James met as children, they couldn’t have been more different. Ellis was loud and beautiful – all blond hair, bright laughs and smiles. Heathan was dark and brooding, and obsessed with watching things die.
The pair forged an unlikely friendship, unique and strange. Until they were ripped apart by the sick cruelty of others, separated for years, both locked in a perpetual hell.
Eleven years later, Heathan is back for his girl. Back from a place from which he thought there was no return. Back to seek revenge on those who wronged them.
Time has made Heathan’s soul darker, polluted with hatred and the thirst for blood.
Time has made Ellis a shell of her former self, a little girl lost in the vastness of her pain.
As Heathan pulls Ellis out of her mental prison, reviving the essence of who she once was, down the rabbit hole they will go.
With malice in their hearts and vengeance in their veins, they will seek out the ones who hurt and destroyed them.
One at a time.
Each one more deadly than the last.
Tick Tock.

Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, disturbingly sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and very mature topics. Recommended for ages 18 and over.

Excerpt

Rabbit turned off the country road we were on and pulled onto a dirt path. Bushy tree branches curled above us to create a tunnel. I leaned my head back and caught the last rays of sun slicing through the leaves. When I lifted my head I saw a building up ahead. A house made from wood stood before us.
Rabbit pulled the car to a halt. There were no sounds coming from this house. No screams or crying. Everything was just . . . silent.
Rabbit’s hands slid from the wheel, and without looking at me, he said, “This is where we’ll be staying for the next several days.”
I leaned forward and looked out of the window. “Your home?”
He shook his head. “The first stop on our adventure.” I looked at him and found his silver eyes were already on me. “We have many stops to go.”
My heart fluttered in nervous excitement. “And this is number one . . .” I whispered, more to myself than Rabbit.
Rabbit opened his door. I was still staring at the woods surrounding this place when my car door opened too. Rabbit stood, rabbit-headed cane in hand, waiting for me to leave the car. I swallowed back the nerves that were creeping up my throat and stepped out. The ground crunched beneath my shoes.
“This way.” Rabbit held his arm out toward the house. I fell into step beside him. I glanced all around us, searching for any sign of people. As if reading my mind, Rabbit said, “There is just you and I here for now. We will meet more people when our journey truly begins.”
“It has not begun?”
Rabbit led us to a wooden door and paused. Gripping the head of his cane tighter, he faced me and said, “Soon, darlin’. Before we go, we must prepare.” He opened the door. “But first . . . tea.”
My breath caught in my throat. Beyond the threshold lay the most perfect tea-party spread one ever did see. “Rabbit!” I gasped. My hands flew to my mouth. I took a step forward into the house and onward into the magical room just beyond. As I passed Rabbit I looked up to see him watching me. I moved swiftly to the long table in the center of the wooden-paneled room, and my eyes widened as I beheld the spread. A white tablecloth lay over the table. Tall seats were positioned around it—eight to be exact—and at each seat was set a plate, a teacup and a saucer. I ran my hand over the cloth and smiled at the silver-domed dishes in the center of the table. I looked behind me to find Rabbit, but he was nowhere in sight. Turning back to the table, I lifted the first silver dome to peek at what was underneath. My mouth watered when I saw strawberry tarts. Smiling in excitement, I skipped to the next. Victoria sponge. Desperate to see them all, I removed each cover—cucumber sandwiches, Bakewell tarts, Battenberg cake, carrot cake . . . so much cake! All of England’s finest delicacies.
My favorites.
A floorboard creaked behind me, and I turned to see Rabbit walking back into the room. I opened my mouth to ask him where everything came from, but then I spotted what he held in his hands.
“Tea?” I asked as Rabbit placed the silver tray, which held a teapot, a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar, on the table. I walked closer and closed my eyes as I inhaled deeply. “Earl Grey,” I whispered, smelling my absolute favorite tea in the entire world.
“Only ever Earl Grey for my little Dolly,” Rabbit confirmed and pulled out a chair for me. I sat down, and Rabbit tucked me in. He took the seat a few places down and gestured to the food. “Help yourself. After all, this tea party is in your honor.”
A giddy laugh escaped my throat as I reached forward and carefully selected a variety of cakes and sandwiches. When I had filled my plate, I took the teapot and poured myself a cup. Rabbit watched me with a peculiar look on his face. His lip was hooked at the corner, and his eyes were . . . soft. His eyes were never soft, always hard and focused, but as he looked at me now, they were almost gentle.
I swallowed, unsure what this strange feeling in my stomach was. I pressed my free hand to my stomach as a comfort against the strange tingling sensations inside. “Tea?” I offered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rabbit nodded; not a word escaped his mouth. His gaze became more intense as I moved beside him and poured the steaming liquid into his cup. As my arm neared him, I felt him stiffen in his seat. Only a sliver of air prevented our limbs touching. His breathing grew labored as he watched me pour.
But we didn’t touch.
Clearing my throat, I placed the teapot back on the tray and moved to take my seat once again. Just as I took a step, an image floated into my head. Of me and Rabbit. Lips touching. My entire body tensed.
I heard Rabbit’s ragged breathing behind me. Goosebumps broke out along my body, chasing one another up my arms and up to the back of my neck. Shaking my head clear of the image, I sat back down.
I raised my eyes and found Rabbit watching me intensely. I lifted my teacup toward my lips. Rabbit did the same, but just as the lip of the teacup almost reached his mouth, I shouted, “Rabbit!” He froze. “Your little finger!” I scolded. I lowered my cup and shook my head. “You cannot drink tea without raising your little finger, silly!”
Rabbit exhaled, then bowed his head. “You’re right, darlin’. How could I forget?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

______________________________________________

 

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

Author Links

 

 

Chapter Reveal: EXP1RE by Erin Noelle

 

 EXP1RE

EXP1RE DUET – BOOK 1

BY ERIN NOELLE

RELEASE DATE: OCTOBER 26, 2017

 

Exp1re

Numbers.
They haunt me.
I can’t look into a person’s eyes without seeing the six-digit date of their death.
I’m helpless to change it, no matter how hard I try.
I’ve trained myself to look down. Away. Anywhere but at their eyes.
My camera is my escape. My salvation. Through its lens, I see only beauty and life—not death and despair.
Disconnected from all those around me, I’m content being alone, simply existing.
Until I meet him.
Tavian.
The man beyond the numbers.
How can I stay away, when everything about him draws me in?
But how can I fall in love, knowing exactly when it will expire?

 

_________________________________________
Chapter One 

PROLOGUE
Lyra

10.18.02
The intercom crackles loudly throughout the classroom, interrupting Ms. Sherman’s rather uninspiring Friday afternoon lesson on the life cycle of a star. Even though most of the students around me are furiously jotting down notes about nebulas, red giants, and supernovas, I’m half listening while I doodle caricatures of me and my friends in the margin of my notebook. It’s not that I’m not interested in the material she’s talking about. No, that’s not the case at all. It’s quite the opposite actually; science is my favorite subject, especially anything that deals with astronomy and the unknowns in our universe.
But with a dad who is a super-smart astronomer at Johnson Space Center—or NASA, as most people here in Houston call it—I learned about this stuff she’s teaching before I ever started kindergarten. Heck, just this past summer before fifth grade, Mama and I went to visit him at a planetarium in Hawaii, where he was part of a team that discovered eleven new moons orbiting Jupiter! If I don’t ace this test next week, I better not even go home. I definitely wouldn’t be able to be an astronaut then.
“Ms. Sherman, can you please have Lyra Jennings gather her things and come down to the office? She’s leaving for the day,” the office lady who reminds me of Paula Deen—Mama’s favorite chef—announces through the ancient intercom system.
At the sound of my name, my chin jerks upward from my pencil sketches to the standard black-and-white classroom clock mounted above the projection screen. The hands read 12:45 p.m., nearly three hours before the end of the school day, when my parents are supposed to pick me up as we head out to Dallas for the weekend to celebrate my eleventh birthday. Ooh, maybe getting out of school early was my surprise they mentioned!
I’ve been looking forward to this day since we came home from this same trip last year, and I know my parents planned something special for this year. Every birthday, instead of having one of those silly kids’ parties with pointy hats and piñatas, they take me to the Texas State Fair. There, we spend the weekend riding as many rides as possible, stuffing our mouths with sausage-on-a-stick and fried Twinkies, playing games until we win the biggest of the stuffed animals, and laughing until our faces hurt and happy tears stream down our cheeks. Hands down, it’s my favorite three days of the year, even better than Christmas. And I really, really like Christmas.
Excitement jets through me as I stand up from my desk and hurriedly cram my spiral notebook and textbook into my purple paisley backpack. If we make it there early, I’ll be able to go swimming at the fancy hotel’s indoor pool before dinner.
“Sure thing,” my teacher calls out in response. “She’ll be right down.”
Hoisting the strap of the bag up on my shoulder, I turn to leave the room and my gaze meets Ms. Sherman’s. Her warmth shines in her bright amber-colored eyes, highlighting the numbers 051123 that I see imprinted in her pupils. The same six white numbers I see every time we make eye contact. The numbers I’m not allowed to talk about. The ones everyone thinks are all a part of my healthy imagination.
But they’re wrong. They’re all wrong.
The numbers are real, and they never change or go away. I only wish I knew what they meant. Mama and Daddy—who, by the way, are the only two people I know that have the same numbers—call it my special superpower, but I know they just pretend to believe me. I see the looks they share when they think I’m not watching. They don’t want me to think about all those things the doctors say about me. I may only be ten years old, but I’m 100% sure I’m not crazy, nor do I lie for attention. I’m an only child, for Pete’s sake; my parents are overly interested in my life. Though I do appreciate their support, even if they don’t understand.
“Have a nice weekend, Lyra. Don’t forget we have a test over CHAPTERs six through eight on Monday. Make sure you’ve read all the material,” she reminds me.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be ready,” I reply modestly, not sharing with her or the rest of the class I’ve already read through CHAPTER thirteen in the text, including answering the study guide questions at the end of each section. I may be an overachiever, but I’m not a brown-noser.
Luckily, school just comes easy for me, and my parents get over-Jupiter’s-moons proud when I bring home straight A’s on my report card. It reassures them that I’m normal and well adjusted. At least that’s what I heard Mama whispering to Daddy on the phone one night when she thought I wasn’t listening.
I mouth a quick goodbye to my best friend, Beth, who I pass by as I scuttle toward the exit. With her last name being Blackmon and mine being Jennings, we rarely get to sit near each other, as most of our teachers put us in alphabetical order. Beth’s numbers are 022754, and like Ms. Sherman’s, they light up vibrantly when she looks up at me and mouths the words Have fun before I slip out the door.
I never want to break the rules or get in trouble, so I somehow fight the urge to sprint down the deserted hallway and force myself to walk as fast as my long, skinny legs will let me. The swishing sound from my denim shorts rubbing together fills my ears, creating a soundtrack for my excitement. My cheeks ache from smiling so big while I drop off my folders and books in my locker then make a beeline to the front of the school, where my parents are waiting for me. This is going to be the best of the best weekends ever, one that none of us will ever forget. I just know it.
Only, when I swing open the glass door to the main office, expecting to see my favorite two people in the world, I’m surprised to find my Aunt Kathy standing there, her face puffy and pink, the corners of her mouth pointing due south. Our eyes meet, and I can barely see her numbers—123148—because of how swollen the lids are around them.
The fluffy white cloud of elation I floated in on disappears instantly as a dark fog of dread takes its place. Engulfing me. Swallowing me whole. She doesn’t have to say a word—I already know. Not how or when or where it happened, but deep in my bones, I know.
I was right. This will definitely be a weekend I’ll never forget, only it will be for reasons I’ll never want to remember.
“I’m so sorry, Lyra baby girl,” she cries. “I’m so sorry. They’re… they’re gone.”
gone.
Gone.
GONE.
The word bounces around between my ears, getting louder each time it echoes. The first time, it freezes my movements. The second steals all the air from my lungs. By the third time, I’m pretty sure I have no pulse. I want to go, too.
Go.
Going.
GONE.
With my feet stuck to the floor and my body stiff as a statue, Aunt Kathy rushes over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Pulling me up against her chest as uncontainable sobs shake her body, she breaks down in front of the receptionist and attendance clerk, neither of who bother to hide their open staring. Numb, I stand completely still while she wails for several minutes, and I never once make a single sound or try to break free from the death grip she has on me. My thoughts race so fast they’re standing still.
I’m just… here. And my parents just… aren’t. And they won’t ever be again.
They’re… gone.
Climbing into the passenger seat of Aunt Kathy’s fancy sports car—a car I usually beg to ride in because there’s no backseat—I fasten my safety belt and then close my eyes as I lean my head back on the black leather, warm from the hot southern Texas sun. Even though it’s mid-October, I’m still wearing shorts and sandals, and just last weekend I went swimming at Beth’s house. But as I sit here and wait for my aunt to start the car, my teeth chatter loudly and my entire body trembles uncontrollably. My heart is frozen solid, but I’ve yet to shed a tear.
The phone rings and I jump, automatically looking at the caller ID on the screen, thinking… hoping… praying it’s someone calling to let us know this has all been a big mistake, that my parents are really okay.
“Hey, Mom,” Aunt Kathy answers after just one ring. We still haven’t pulled out of the parking space. “Yeah, I have her now. She’s safe and sound.”
My heart plummets even lower into my stomach than it was before as she pauses to listen to Granny Gina on the other end. Granny Gina is my dad and Kathy’s mom who lives in New Orleans, where she moved about five years ago after my grandpa passed away from lung cancer. Since my mom’s parents both died before I was born, she’s the only living grandparent I have, and luckily for me, she’s a pretty awesome one. But today, nothing is awesome. Not even close.
“I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word. I’m sure she’s in shock.” My aunt talks about me like I’m not sitting right here, as I finally feel the car jerk back in reverse.
Another pause. The car lurches forward into drive then we bounce hard as Aunt Kathy flies over a speed bump. I think I’m going to throw up.
“Okay, I’ll take her home so she can pack a suitcase of whatever she wants to bring, and then we’ll go to my place until you get here. You should be in about 5:00?”
Pack a suitcase of what I want to bring where? Where am I going? Why is this happening to me? I’m a good kid. I make good grades and I’m nice to people, even those people who everyone else makes fun of, and I listen to my parents and my teachers. What did I do to deserve this? Why me?
“Yeah, Mom, I know,” Aunt Kathy hiccups. She’s crying hard again. “I’ll take good care of her, and we’ll see you later. I love you.”
I keep my eyes screwed shut as she disconnects the call, scared she’ll want to talk if I open them. I don’t want to talk to her or Granny Gina or anyone but my parents. I want my mom and dad!
Thankfully, Aunt Kathy doesn’t try to talk to me as we drive, but when I feel the car come to a stop and hear the engine turn off, she gently taps my arm. “Lyra, sweetheart, we’re at your house. We’re going to go inside, and I need you to pack up a suitcase or two of the clothes and things you want to take to New Orleans. Whatever you need.”
“New Orleans?” My lids snap open and I whip my chin in her direction. I don’t even recognize my harsh, scratchy voice. “I’m going to New Orleans?”
“Yeah”—she nods sadly as she swipes at the black mascara streaks on her face with her thumbs—“with Granny Gina. After we take care of, uh, of everything here, you’ll go live with her there.”
Scowling, I cross my arms over my chest and grunt. “I don’t want to leave Houston, or my friends, or my school. Why can’t I stay here with you?”
“You know I travel with my job, Lyra. Sometimes I’m gone a week or two at a time, and there won’t be anybody here to stay with you. Granny Gina’s house has an extra bedroom, and since she doesn’t work, she’ll be able to better give you everything you need.”
What I need and will be better for me is my mom and dad. And my perfect birthday weekend at the fair.
She reaches out to attempt to soothe me with her touch, but I wrench away, banging my elbow on the car door in the process. The whack is loud, and the place I hit immediately turns red, but my brain doesn’t register the pain. I feel nothing. I’m broken.
I glance over at my aunt, and the tears spilling down her cheeks make me feel bad for acting the way I just did to her. What happened to my parents isn’t her fault, but I’m angry and this is all moving too fast. How am I supposed to pack up what I need in a couple of bags? I want to stay in my room, in my house, living with my parents.
“I know this is all unfair, baby,” she says through her sniffles, “and I can’t even to begin to understand what you’re thinking or feeling. I mean, I’m freaking the hell out and I’m a grownup who’s supposed to know how to handle these kinds of situations. All we can do is cling to each other as family and try to get through this together. Between me and Granny, we’ll do the best we can for you, and right now, we think the best thing is if you get your things and go stay with her.”
“How did they die?” I blurt out, completely off topic from what she’s talking about. My mind can’t stay focused on any one thing, but this is the question that keeps popping up. “I need to know how it happened.”
Swallowing hard, Aunt Kathy inhales a shaky breath through her nose and blows it out through her mouth, visibly trying to collect herself before she answers me. “It was a car accident,” she whispers after forever, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t know why they were together in your mom’s car this morning or where they were going, but an eighteen-wheeler lost control and hit them. They were already gone by the time the first responders arrived.”
I nod, still unable to cry. I hear the words she’s saying, but they aren’t really registering. They make sense, but I don’t understand. It’s as if I’ve been swallowed up by one of the black holes Daddy taught me about and the darkness is sucking away my ability to think, to feel. All I hear is the word “gone” still replaying over and over and over.
“Okay. I’ll get my stuff,” I say flatly, finally opening the door and stepping out of the car.
My movements are robotic, and I can barely even feel the key in my hand as I unlock the front door to my house. Stepping inside, I’m overwhelmed by a combination of the sweet smell of my mom’s favorite vanilla cookie candle and the sight of my dad’s fuzzy slippers waiting by the coatrack—the slippers he puts on the minute he walks in the door from work every night. When I realize he’ll never wear those slippers again, nor will my mom ever be able to forget if she blew out the candle when we’re about to pull out of the driveway, an acute pain shoots through my chest and I stumble over to the staircase, grabbing the banister to keep my balance.
“I’m right here, Lyra,” Aunt Kathy murmurs from behind me as she slips her arm around my waist. “Let’s just get your things and head over to my place. Later, once we’ve had some time to deal with everything, we can come back to go through the house and all the stuff… if you want.”
Another nod and I let her guide me up the stairs to my room. I want to scream at her that there will never be enough time to deal with losing my parents, that I’ll never be able to go through their things, but I keep my lips pressed together and do as I’m told.
“Where do you guys keep your suitcases?” she asks, glancing around my room as if she’s doing an inventory of what I have. “I’ll go grab a couple while you start pulling out what you want to take. If you forget something, it’s no big deal, because you and Granny are going to be staying at my place for the next few days. I can just bring you back to get it, or I can even ship it to Louisiana if you remember once you’re there.”
“They’re in the storage cabinets in the garage,” I answer while walking over to my desk, my eyes locked in on a framed photo of me and my parents that sits next to my laptop.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
The thud of her heels on the hardwood floor grows quiet as she makes her way back down to the first floor, and just as I grab the picture and plop down on the chair, I hear her open the door to the garage. A few much-needed minutes by myself.
I gaze down at the photograph of the three of us from a day at the beach, me sandwiched between their cheerful, carefree expressions, and the first tear finally escapes. Once the dam breaks, I can’t stop the flow, and as I trace my finger over the outline of each of my parents’ faces, I cry for everything I’ll never have again. A supernova of tears.
Faces I’ll never see smile again.
Voices I’ll never hear say my name again.
Arms I’ll never be hugged by again.
A never-ending galaxy of love that I’ll never feel again.
It’s all just… gone.
After several minutes of vision-blurring bawling, I set the picture frame back upright on my desk. A hot pink heart drawn on my calendar with the words Birthday Weekend Begins written over today’s box catches my attention. I then notice the printed numbers next to my bubbly handwriting that read 10-18-02.
Snatching the picture up again, I stare directly into first my dad’s eyes, and then my mom’s. The numbers I see when I look people directly in the eyes only happens when I’m face-to-face with someone, never in photographs or through a screen or mirror. But even though I can’t actually see the numbers right now in the picture of my parents’ pupils, their numbers are forever etched in my brain from looking at them every day of my life. I used to think the reason they had the same numbers meant they were true soul mates, like God made them to match perfectly together, but now….
My gaze flicks over to today’s date of 10-18-02, then back to my parents’ faces, where I envision their numbers—101802.
My plummeting heart collides with my lurching stomach in an explosion of realization.
It’s my Big Bang Momen

_______________________________________________

About Erin Noelle USA Today Bestselling Author

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two
young daughters. While earning her degree in History, she rediscovered her love for reading that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current,Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels.

Most nights you can find her cuddled up in bed with her husband, her Kindle in hand and a sporting event of some sorts on television.

Excerpt Reveal: Cowboy Up by Harper Sloan – The Coming Home Series – Book 3

 

 

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Harper Sloan returns with a passionate and breathless romance about the sparks that ignite when a cautious cowboy and a once-scorned woman open up to each other in the third installment of the Coming Home series.

As the eldest Davis, Clayton has always tried to lead by example. He takes his job as head of the family businesses seriously, making sure the farm and auto shop are running smoothly—along with keeping an eye on his brother and sister. For him, there’s a time and place to let go of the control he holds with an iron grip. And with the way he grew up, coupled with a disastrous end to his last relationship, he’s just fine with his quiet, solitary life.

Most of the time.

What he hadn’t counted on was the cute, quirky, shy bookstore owner, Caroline Michaels. She’s the proverbial woman next door—well, the next town over, that is. Caroline hasn’t lived an easy life, but after escaping a verbally abusive ex, she’s finally living it for herself. The last thing she ever expected was a one-night stand with Clay Davis she can’t stop thinking about.

So when she falls on hard times and Clay comes out of nowhere to her rescue, she realizes just how impossible it’ll be to stay away from him. Now all she has to do is convince him to live a little…. Will Clay be able to give up the reins and finally settle down? And, more importantly, will Caroline muster enough courage to lasso him up?

 

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AN EXCERPT FROM COWBOY UP

 

I push my hands from his shoulders and palm his jaw as his stubble prickles against my fingers while my hands wander up to his hair. His hat falls to the ground with a thud and I know he’s just as lost in me as I am in him, because he doesn’t even make a move to pick it up. He lets out a deep grunt when I mold myself against his body, seeking some sort of friction. The next thing I know, my back is against the door and he’s gripping my bottom. His mouth hits my jaw with a bite of his teeth, making a squeak of pleasure shoot up my throat, and his deep rumble of laughter reaches my ears as he presses me harder into the door with his hips. The heavy bulge of his erection against that spot makes me so desperate for him that I whimper in relief when his mouth finally closes over mine in a wet tangle of tongues.

I’ve never been kissed so thoroughly.

This is the kind of kiss that sets the bar for any that might follow.

The kind that shows you everything you’ve been missing and everything you never knew you wanted. I’m going to be comparing every kiss I ever have to my dark cowboy’s, even though I know there’s a good chance no one will ever compare. The sounds coming from my mouth, the ones being swallowed by his, are nothing short of needy. My hips move in tandem with the thrusts of his, and even though we’re both fully clothed, I know it won’t take much more of this for me to go off like the town’s fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“Fuck, you taste just like apple pie,” he whispers against my lips, breaking away with a gasp.

“Huh?”

“Goddamn, I love apple pie,” he says before his mouth is back on mine, this time with a whole new kind of hunger deepening his kisses.

I’m held captive, enraptured. Then his hands move from my bottom to glide up my torso. He lifts his hard chest off mine and suddenly those delicious fingers are at my breasts. Even if I had big boobs his hands would dwarf them, I’m sure, but as it is he covers both with a firm grasp before adjusting his hold with a deft twist of the wrists. His mouth continues to feast on mine while his huge hands learn my body with slow movements. I tear my mouth from his with a breathy moan when he pushes my shirt up and slips his fingers into the cups of my bra to tweak my nipples.

“Oh, God,” I moan when he does it again.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbles.

“Please,” I beg, not with the slightest clue as to what I’m begging for.

His hips dig even harder into mine as he leans back, supporting me against the door with that connection alone as he pulls my shirt off. The darkness makes me feel more confident than I normally would be, almost half naked with a man—no, a stranger.

“Yours too,” I tell him as his fingers move to unclasp my bra. “I want to feel your skin on mine,” I breathe, taking over the task so he’ll hopefully give me what I want.

I fumble in my haste to feel more of this dangerous arousal he’s creating in my body, but the second my bra is free and dangling toward the floor, his naked chest collides against mine, pushing me into the door with a force that sends the air rushing out of my lungs.

His mouth hits my collarbone at the same time his hands grasp my bottom, sliding me up the door until I feel the wet heat of his breath against my breast.

Then he stops.

 

 

 

 

Harper is a NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL and USA TODAY bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn’t writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand.

Facebook | Website | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

 

 

 

Release Blitz + Excerpt + 5 Star Review: The Consort by K. A. Linde

 

 

After the loss of a friend and false imprisonment in an Eleysian dungeon, Cyrene has no interest in destiny. Her heart was shattered, friends scattered, and her home is nothing but a pretty illusion. Even her magic won’t cooperate.
When all seems lost, she turns to the one person she never thought that she would trust:

Prince Kael.

His darkness mirrors a growing force lurking within her. A struggle she never imagined threatens to consume her. And as friends and foes begin to show their true colors, she starts questioning whether anyone is who they seem.
Even herself.

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Time was a wily beast.

It stole. It destroyed. It healed.

Constant and immovable.

And each day brought a new morning.

Time was dependable. And only time could move the world forward.

Time had slipped away from Cyrene. It was a thief in the night, scrubbing away the hours and leaving her disoriented.

At first, all she could feel was the soft bed beneath her body. For a moment, she thought of Dean. Lying against his chest, waking in the morning with his arms wrapped tightly around her, knowing that another night had passed. Another night closer to their wedding.

Then, another second ticked by, and that memory stabbed her in the chest. There would never be another morning like that. There would never be another dawn with Dean. There would never be another moment in Eleysia. For she was bound to Byern. And always would be.

Her eyes flew open, and she scrambled across the bed in horror. Her hand touched her mouth…and Kael Dremylon’s eyes slowly opened with a lazy smile on his pretty face.

“Morning,” he said, biting back a yawn.

“What in the Creator’s name are you doing in my bed?” she all but shrieked.

“Sleeping.”

“How dare you come into my quarters and share my bed with me! Do you think I have no honor? Do you think I have forgotten what you tried to do to me?”

She had woken up curled around Kael! Her leg wrapped around his. Her arm flung across his bare chest. His arms cradling her, as if he even knew what comfort was.

Now, he was staring at her as if she had gone completely insane. How could he possibly think this was okay?

“Do you know where we are?” Kael asked.

He sat up and leaned on one elbow. The sheet slipped off his body, revealing every rippling muscle. She snapped her gaze back up to his face.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

“We are on a Byern warship. This is the only room on the ship with quarters this nice. Otherwise, you can sleep below decks with the crew. Is that what you want?”

She shook her head. “Surely, there must be somewhere else. I can’t be expected to sleep here. What will everyone think?”

He laughed a bitter, rough laugh. “Now, you are concerned about this?”

“If I am to be carted back to Byern, then I should have the luxuries of an Affiliate.”

He held his hand out. “And you are afforded those luxuries.”

Cyrene opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

“This is a war vessel, not a pleasure ship. We are not on procession, like the last time you had the full attention of Byern royalty in your bed,” he said viciously. “If you do not sleep with me, in my rooms, then you sleep below decks. With the crew.”

Cyrene glowered at him. Of course, he would use every advantage that he had while he had her here. And, even though she had never slept with King Edric, it still prickled her to think that everyone, including Kael, believed that she had. But, if it irritated him to consider it, then she wouldn’t contradict him.

“So, you expect me to sleep next to you the entire time I am trapped here?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Now, if you want to roll back over and lie on me again, I won’t object.”

_____________________________________________

Robin’s Review

Fans of The Ascension Series have been waiting nearly a year for their next dose of young adult fantasy from author K.A. Linde. Although it’s been a long time coming, I promise The Consort will not leave you feeling disappointed! Rife with magical action, excitement and mystery, Linde packs so much adventure in this book that by the time you have finished, you’ll feel as if you’ve read two novels!

The Consort undeniably has a darker feel to it than the previous Ascension novels, beginning with Cyrene being held as a prisoner, accused of a crime she didn’t commit. Feeling betrayed and heartbroken, our lonely heroine finds herself at the complete mercy of others. Cyrene’s at the lowest point of her life, grasping for a way to move forward. We see Cyrene turn to an unlikely ally – Prince Kael Dremylon.

K.A. Linde left readers ruminating over a killer cliffhanger at the end of The Bound, but your questions about what happened at the end of that book will be answered. Just expect to have a whole new set of questions when you finish reading The Consort! If you are familiar with Linde’s writing, you know she has an evil streak. Prepare yourself because she doesn’t go easy on us! Characters will die, and in typical fashion, Linde will play with your emotions regarding Cyrene’s three suitors: King Edric, Crown Prince Kael, and Prince Dean Ellison of Eleysia.

Although a large portion of The Consort takes place in Byern, Cyrene’s adventures have her crisscrossing the continent of Emporia in the company of her friends. Linde revisits many of the secondary characters from the previous two books, The Affiliate and The Bound, but we are also introduced to several new characters, both good and bad. An obvious darkness has descended over the palace, so prepare yourself for plenty of deception, reveals, and court intrigue!

The information we learn in The Consort is more in-depth, as Cyrene digs even deeper into the mysteries of the ancient Doma. Cyrene discovers more about the Domina Serafina and how Sera’s past relates to her own uncharted destiny. In three novels, we have seen Cyrene develop beautifully from a naïve, young lady who only hopes to be named an Affiliate to an incredibly powerful woman who has the ability to control her own destiny. I’m excited to read about her continued journey and to see what she becomes!

For those who love reading new adult/contemporary romance novels written by K.A. Linde but have yet to venture into reading her Ascension Series, consider trying something new! You’ll find her same talent for writing romance and conversational dialogue, along with her penchant for lovingly playing on our emotions, mixed with the results of a brilliant imagination and rich world building. I LOVE this series! The Consort is one of my 2017 favorite novels! Congratulations to author K.A Linde for this 5-star rating!

 

 

 

 

 

ta-amazonThe Affiliate: Book 1

“With rich romance and twisty political intrigue, THE AFFILIATE is a breakneck fantasy ride that’s perfect for fans of THE SELECTION or THRONE OF GLASS.” –Susan Dennard, NYT bestselling author of TRUTHWITCH

On the day of her Presenting, in front of the entire Byern Court, seventeen-year-old Cyrene Strohm’s lifelong plans come to fruition when she’s chosen for one of the most prestigious positions in her homeland–an Affiliate to the Queen.

Or so she thinks.

When Cyrene receives a mysterious letter and an unreadable book, she finds nothing is as it seems. Thrust into a world of dangerous political intrigue and deadly magic, Cyrene’s position only grows more treacherous when she finds herself drawn to the one man she can never have…

King Edric himself.

Cyrene must decide if love is truly worth the price of freedom. Find out in this first book in USA Today bestselling author K.A. Linde’s new Ascension series. Great for fans of Game of Thrones, Tudors, and Sarah J. Maas’s Throne of Glass series.

 

AmazoniBooks B&NKobo

 

 

tb-amazonCyrene Strohm is a Queen’s Affiliate, a high-ranking official of the court of Byern, with power and privilege to spare. But she’s also a keeper of dangerous secrets: like the fact that she holds the heart of the King, and that she possesses magic in a world where magic no longer exists.

Determined to discover what this means and how to use her newfound abilities, Cyrene sets off for the distant land of Eleysia. An island nation where Affiliates are strictly forbidden from entering.

But the journey is perilous, and the destination may mean utter ruin, as Cyrene comes to learn that everything she’s been told her whole life – about her court, her homeland, and even herself—are bound in a beautiful lie.

 

 

AmazoniBooksKobo Goodreads

 

 

 

 

K.A. Linde grew up as a military brat and created fantastical stories based off of her love for Disney movies, fairy tales, and Star Wars. In her spare time, she is an avid traveler, loves reading young adult novels, and dancing. Additionally, K.A. has written more than a dozen adult novels and is a USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Lubbock, TX with her husband and two super adorable puppies.

K.A. Linde loves to hear from her readers!

You can contact her at kalinde45@gmail.com or visit her online at one of the following sites:

www.kalinde.com

www.facebook.com/authorkalinde

@authorkalinde

 

 

New Release + Excerpt + Giveaway + 5-Star Review: Show Me the Way by A.L. Jackson

☆☆☆Show Me the Way is Live☆☆☆

Show Me the Way

The first stand-alone novel in A.L. Jackson’s brand-new Fight for

Me series…

​​

 

READ FOR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2xOtvLK
Audible: http://smarturl.it/SMTWAudible
Signed Paperback: http://www.aljacksonauthor.com/signed-copies

 

The first sexy, captivating, stand-alone novel in the brand-new FIGHT FOR ME series from NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson . . .

Rex Gunner. As bitter as he is beautiful.

The owner of the largest construction company in Gingham Lakes has been burned one too many times. His wife leaving him to raise their daughter was the last blow this single dad could take. The only woman he’ll let into his heart is his little girl.

Rynna Dayne. As vulnerable as she is tempting.

She ran from Gingham Lakes when she was seventeen. She swore to herself she would never return. Then her grandmother passed away and left her the deed to the diner that she once loved.

When Rex meets his new neighbor, he knows he’s in trouble.

She’s gorgeous and sweet and everything he can’t trust.

Until she becomes the one thing he can’t resist.

One kiss sends them tumbling toward ecstasy.
But in a town this size, pasts are bound to collide. Caught in a web of lies, betrayal, and
disloyalty, Rex must make a choice.

Will he hide behind his walls or will he take the chance . . .

EXCLUSIVE BONUS DELETED SCENE:

Preface from Amy: I’m excited to offer another scene in Rex & Rynna’s love story. It was really difficult to cut this scene, but during editing, I knew I had to as I was taking a different direction as we headed into the climax of the story. I hope you enjoy this exclusive cut scene!

Rex stood in the foggy pour of the moon, the striking raw beauty of him bathed in an
ethereal glow. His hair whipped in the wind where he stood on the other side of the road that
separated our houses. His hands were balled into fists, jaw clenched, eyes hard.

Dominant and dangerous and somehow chained by all his doubt.

Warned you being with me wouldn’t be easy. Tell me you’ll fight for me. Tell me you’ll fight
for us. That you won’t give up when things get rough. Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me I should take
this chance.

I inched forward. Energy lashed. Whipping and inciting.

Compelling.

And God, I wanted to fight. Fight him for leaving me. Fight for him because it was the last
thing I’d wanted him to do. Fight for what was right. The problem was, I wasn’t certain of exactly what that was.

Rex’s nostrils flared, and he was moving across the street, his big body eating up the
ground in his long, purposed strides. His hulking form climbed the steps, his shoulders wide and his presence bigger as he mounted to the last step onto my deck.

In a flash, he was on me. My back was pressed against the wall of my house, the heat of his
strong body lighting me up like a furnace. He wound a big hand in my hair, tugging, forcing me to look up at him.

“Little Thief.”

The accusation was gravel, and I sucked in a staggered breath. It only drew him deeper, his
presence sinking in, taking hold. Everything swelled just as the pain of his rejection went rushing through my veins. A raging river that threatened to drown.

“You can’t do this to me,” I whimpered. For a beat, I struggled, fighting him, attempting to
push him away as my attention darted across the street to his sleeping house.

Jealousy boiled beneath the surface of my skin. Wicked, spiteful flames. A pool of sickness
churned in my belly, all mixed up with the need he instantly incited in my body. “You can’t do
this to me,” I begged this time, feeling everything crack.

Splintering.

“You already did it,” he grated. His nose brushed mine when he said it, his hot hand on my
cheek, his eyes so terrifyingly sincere. “Told you, you were gonna ruin me. You ruined me,
Rynna. Can’t fucking close my eyes without seeing you. Can’t sleep without dreaming of you.
Can’t take a fucking step without wanting to run right back to you.”

I squeezed my eyes closed. As if that might stand the chance of putting a barrier between
us. I only felt him more, the wild beat of his heart and the flush of his skin and the maddening
gaze of the scruff on his chin.

He was everywhere.

“I’m in love with you,” he said.

I’m in love with you.

Those words spun around me like a tease. Prodding and pulling.

My eyes fluttered open.

“Rex.” I grasped him by the wrists, clinging to him. A tear streaked free. He wiped it away
with his thumb.

“Don’t cry, baby. Fuck, please don’t cry.”

My lip trembled. “I missed you.”

He pulled me closer. “Didn’t know I could miss someone the way I’ve been missing you.
Didn’t know how bad I could hurt inside until you weren’t there anymore.”

And then he was kissing me. It was a frenzy. That desperation when finding something
that’d been lost. The promise that you’d never again let it go.

His mouth consumed mine.

Possessively.

Powerfully.

Taking what was his.

It was dizzying.

The severity of him. It was all spurred by the significance of finally finding what was right.
The moment when you finally scaled the obstacles standing in your way, and you found the
perfection waiting on the other side.

He kept muttering, “Little Thief, Little Thief,” as he spun us, pinning me against my door. I
fumbled to get to the knob. It knocked open and we stumbled into the welcoming dimness of the living room.

We were frantic as we tore at each other’s clothes.

Lips parting, chests heaving, slamming right back together as we shed the barriers between
us.

“Where’s Frankie?” I managed to mumble, fingers in his shoulders as he was peeling off my
underwear.

He smiled. I could feel it. The smiled he smiled as he was still kissing me. This awe that
pierced me through. A perfect, painless stake that embedded itself in my spirit. “Spending the
night at my mom’s. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. Asking for you.”

“I miss her.” It was a confession of my soul. And I was suddenly clinging to him, my arms
around his neck, my face pressed to his pulse point that thrummed beneath his jaw. “I missed
you both so much. I didn’t know a love like this existed until I met the two of you.”

He swept me off my feet, carried me to my couch, and laid me across it. He crawled over
me, hovering, caging me in. His face in shadows, his gorgeous body rimmed in light. “Never
even knew a love like this existed. You stole all my rationale and gave me a reason. I love you,
Rynna. Love you in a way that terrifies me. But still, I’m not scared anymore. Not of us. Not of
this.”

I smiled up at him, my fingertips tracking down the side of his cheek and brushing across his
full, full lips. He nipped at my fingers, and I bit back a smile, my eyes full of wonder as I gazed
up at the man who’d changed everything. “Take me.”

Rex climbed between my thighs, only to freeze when his phone buzzed from the pocket of
his jeans he’d discarded on the floor.

Apologetically, he shot me a grin. “I’d better get that.”

“Yeah,” I said with a soft smile.

He dug it out and answered.

My heart fell straight to the floor when I heard the screaming on the other side.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2xOtvLK
Audible: http://smarturl.it/SMTWAudible
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Tracey’s Review

It’s been said that you can’t go home again, but for Rynna Dayne, she can’t think of any other place that she’d rather be. It’s been years since the malice and betrayal of others caused her to leave Gingham Lakes, but she’s a different person now, and she has a destiny to fulfill.

Rex Gunner hasn’t always been angry and bitter. But the worst kind of loss, followed by unanticipated betrayal, has left him a shell of the man that he once was. There’s a place in his heart for only one person, his daughter Frankie Leigh. There’s no room for Rynna Dayne, no matter how much his heart tells him otherwise.

With the boys of Sunder all having gotten their HEAs, I was anxiously awaiting the next series to come from author A.L Jackson. I mean, it’s Amy. She writes angtsy heart-wrenching books like nobody’s business, books that become part of you and that leave you thinking about them for a long time afterwards. So, what was it going to be? What it is, friends, is SHOW ME THE WAY, the first book in Amy’s new Fight For Me series, and one of my favorite books of this year.

I fell in love with the characters in this book from the first page. Frankie Leigh grabbed my heart and didn’t let go, and watching Rynna having the courage and the strength to stand up to a past that had sent her running from the home and people that she loved made this a keeper for me. And then there’s Rex. This broken and beautiful man, a man that has lost so much, but who still has so much love to give, despite himself, well, Rex Gunner is one of my new favorite Amy Jackson men.

SHOW ME THE WAY was almost painful to read at times, because, while I know that the sort of ugliness and vitriol that shaped and formed both Rynna and Rex exists, it was tough to see in action. The fact that there was sense of self-worth enough, strength enough for them to open themselves up to each other made for the sort of read that kept me turning pages far into the night.

Amy absolutely has another hit on her hands with SHOW ME THE WAY. I loved the supporting characters so much that I can hardly wait to get their stories, which can’t come too soon. 5 dark, redemptive, take a chance stars for this one, guys. Add Rex and Rynna to your TBR, and prepare to fall in love.

 

Giveaway

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A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary
romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.

Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, and BLEEDING
STARS novels. Be sure to check out her newest series, Fight for Me. The first novel, SHOW ME THE WAY, is out now.

If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails
with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.

Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her
newsletter http://smarturl.it/NewsFromALJackson or text “aljackson” to 24587 to receive short
but sweet updates on all the important news.

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