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

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

 

Now available for pre-order!

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

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

He winced. “Thirty-seven.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

 

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

 

 

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

Someone like hottie ex-NFL star Ryan Callahan.

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

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

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

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

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

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Chapter One

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially the weirdos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I frown. “Isn’t that what you just—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Surprise!”

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

 

About the Author

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

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Excerpt Reveal: Breathe by Carly Phillips

Breathe-SBPRBANNER-ERBreathe, an all-new second chance romance from Wall Street Journal and New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips is coming May 15th!

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Fall in love with the Wards…

From troubled teen to successful general contractor, Jake Nichols turned his life around from his time in foster care. Divorced and single, he juggles his time between his daughter and his work. Next on his agenda, a new project that is his chance to prove his worth at the job he loves. Except he never anticipates that the only girl he’s ever loved and lost as a teen is now a grown and beautiful woman in charge of the project.

Phoebe Ward has survived and conquered a painful past that includes foster care and becoming a teenaged mom. She wants nothing more than to focus on the present but it’s hard when she looks into the eyes of her son, knowing she’s tried and failed to find his father. She’s resigned herself to raising him alone with the help of her family… Until a client meeting brings her face to face with her first love. A boy… now a sexy man she thought she’d never see again … and the father of her child.

So many years have gone by and both of their lives have changed drastically. Will they be able to put the past behind them and find the second chance they both deserve?

A Standalone Novel

Excerpt

“Hello?” Phoebe called out.
“In here!” a masculine voice said, sounding like it came from the far side of the house.
She followed the sound and noticed a man talking on the phone, his back to her. He was tall, well built, muscles defined, as she took him in from behind. And what a behind he had, a tight ass in his faded jeans.
She ogled the sight shamelessly, her gaze traveling up his lean waist and broad shoulders. His dark hair was short and the jet-black color she preferred on a man. He wore a light blue button-down, sleeves rolled up, revealing sexy forearms.
And then he turned to meet her gaze, giving her one raised finger to indicate he needed another minute on the phone. Except she wasn’t paying attention to the gesture, because one look at that handsome face, more mature than she remembered but just as good-looking, and she froze.
Vivid blue eyes widened at the sight of her in return.
She wasn’t just looking at a stranger, she was staring into the shocked eyes of her son’s father, a man she hadn’t seen since before she found out she was pregnant.
“Jake?” she whispered, unable to comprehend the fact that she was standing in the same room with her first love. Her first everything.

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Meet Carly Phillips

CarlyPhillipsCarly 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: Rebel Heir by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward – Book 1

 

 

How to kick off a great summer in the Hamptons:

Snag a gorgeous rental on the beach. Check.

Get a job at a trendy summer haunt. Check.

How to screw up a great summer in the Hamptons:

Fall for the one guy with a dark leather jacket, scruff on his face, and intense eyes that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the tony looking crowd. A guy you can’t have when you’ll be leaving at the end of the season.

Check. Check. Check.

I should add—especially when the guy is your sexy, tattooed God of a boss.

Especially when he not only owns your place of employment but inherited half of the town.

Especially when he’s mean to you.

Or so I thought.

Until one night when he demanded I get in his car so he could drive me home because he didn’t want me walking in the dark.

That was sort of how it all started with Rush.

And then little by little, some of the walls of this hardass man started to come down.

I never expected that the two of us, seemingly opposites from the outside, would grow so close.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for the rebel heir, especially when he made it clear he didn’t want to cross the line with me.

As the temperature turned cooler, the nights became hotter. My summer became a lot more interesting—and complicated.

All good things must come to an end, right?

Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.

Rebel Heir is the first book in the Rush Series Duet. Book Two, Rebel Heart, will release six weeks later on May, 22, 2018.

Add to Goodreads ➜ Rebel Heir (Book One)

Add to Goodreads ➜Rebel Heart (Book Two)

 

 

 

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Note: No Amazon ebook pre-order. Will be live on release day.

 

Rebel Heart Pre-order links ➜ http://www.booksneakpeek.com/therushduet.html

 

 

 

Sign up for Penelope &

 

 

 

“All done.” I found Gia in the yard sunbathing. Of course, she had to be lying on her stomach so I could get a closer look at her ass. It was fucking phenomenal. Like a chubby, upside-down heart from where I stood. I’d spent the last hour pretend fixing her car and picturing her riding me reverse cowgirl, those ass cheeks jiggling like fucking Jell-O while she rode me hard. I had to force my eyes to her face and clear my throat to continue. “Here are your keys. Your rotors were shot, too. In the future, don’t ride on bad brakes. It just turns a little problem into a big one.”

She shielded her eyes from the sun and twisted her neck to look up at me, still not flipping over to her stomach. “Oh. Okay. Thanks. Can I make you some lunch? It’s the least I can do to repay you for hours of working on my car.”

Is that ass on the menu?

“No. I have to get going.”

She lifted from flat on her stomach to on her knees in a yoga-like pose, taking her sweet ass time before turning over.

“Are you sure?” She bit her bottom lip. “You’ve had to have worked up an appetite.”

Is she fucking with me? I had an appetite alright. “I gotta run.”

I sounded like a broken record, yet here I still stood. My head wanted to get the fuck out of that yard, but my traitorous feet wouldn’t move. Not even when she stood up, turned around and practically rubbed her ass against me as she held up suntan lotion. “Could you rub some sunscreen on my back before you go? I don’t want to burn.”

No. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

I took the sunscreen and squeezed a glob of creamy white lotion into the palm of my hand. Swallowing hard, I began to rub it into her back. Her shoulders were warm and soft with the tiniest little layer of fuzz on it. It reminded me of a peach. My mouth salivated at the thought of biting into her.

“Could you do a little lower?”

My breathing became labored and my cock swelled as I lowered my hands and rubbed into the middle of her back. I was breaching into dangerous territory.

“Lower” she said. I knew from her breathy voice that I wasn’t the only one aroused.

I lowered to just above her bathing suit bottom and rubbed lotion all over.

When I finished, she turned her head so I could see the side of her face and closed her eyes to whisper, “lower.”

Fuck me.

I couldn’t stop myself. I reached for the creamy sunscreen and squeezed enough into my hand to cover a large person’s full body and then began to rub it into her ass cheeks. She had the most unique heart-shaped mole on her left side that was perfectly symmetrical. I ran my fingertips over it. When I trailed a pool of lotion to the top of her ass crack, and slowly rubbed it in tracing the material of her bathing suit in between her cheeks, she let out a low moan.

More. Make more sounds like that.

 

 

 

 

Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over ninety Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

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Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son and beautiful daughter with autism.

With over a million books sold, she is a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over fifteen novels, including RoomHate which hit #2 on the New York Times bestseller list and #1 on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list. Other New York Times bestsellers include Stepbrother Dearest, Neighbor Dearest, Drunk Dial, Cocky Bastard, Stuck-Up Suit, Playboy Pilot and Mister Moneybags (the latter four co-written with Vi Keeland).

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Other books by the authors:

Cocky Bastard
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1LfN3fc
iTunes: http://apple.co/1PffE2J
B&N: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO

Stuck-Up Suit
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1S3LnpZ
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57
B&N: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV
Kobo: http:// bit.ly/1RJdUif

Playboy Pilot
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2d5I5rS
iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf
Nook: bit.ly/2caXPEK
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2cJDXO1

Mister Moneybags
Amazon http://amzn.to/2oTaaHf
Barnes & Noble http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m
iBooks http://smarturl.it/3y1tuq
Kobo http://smarturl.it/qqf5ho

Dear Bridget, I Want You
Amazon: ➜ http://amzn.to/2sGyJbZ
iBooks: ➜ http://smarturl.it/y4x3xi
B&N ➜ http://smarturl.it/o780mb

Other books from Vi Keeland:

Standalone novels
Sex, Not Love
Amazon ➜ http://amzn.to/2DtUO0L
iBooks ➜ http://smarturl.it/vlfabb
B&N ➜ http://smarturl.it/hivkor
Kobo ➜ http://smarturl.it/9bxfwx
Google Play ➜ http://smarturl.it/19muiq
Audio ➜ http://smarturl.it/qbf0bs

Beautiful Mistake
Amazon eBook http://amzn.to/2uoeoJN
iBooks http://smarturl.it/20x53a
B&N http://smarturl.it/n8jey6
Kobo http://smarturl.it/1btxsz

Egomaniac
Amazon: http://smarturl.it/b1gi74
iBooks: http://apple.co/2fIsmvC
B&N: http://smarturl.it/t4ohsv
Kobo: http://smarturl.it/azmhq9

Bossman
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2a8D5B6
iBooks: http://apple.co/25x2jyX
B&N: http://bit.ly/29sL4H2
Kobo: http://bit.ly/29lW19I

The Baller
Amazon: amzn.to/1PBF2hG
iBooks: http://bit.ly/iBooksBaller
B&N: http:// bit.ly/BarnesBaller
Kobo: http:// bit.ly/KoboBaller

Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)

First Thing I See

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/first-thing-i-see-ms-vi-keeland/1114703332

Life on Stage series (2 standalone books)
Beat
http://www.amazon.com/Beat-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00ZOMUV12/ http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beat-vi-keeland/1121715501 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/beat/id983959123 https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/beat-5

Throb

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/throb/id948747986
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/throb-vi-keeland/1121112695
https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/throb-4

MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books)
Worth the Fight

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-the-fight/id805540252
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-the-fight-vi-keeland/1117014180
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-the-fight

Worth the Chance

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-the-chance/id813714461
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-the-chance-vi-keeland/1118634058
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-the-chance

Worth Forgiving

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-forgiving/id906130022?ls=1&mt=11
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-forgiving-vi-keeland/1120173153
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-forgiving

The Cole Series (2 book serial)
Belong to You

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/belong-to-you/id639401754
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/belong-to-you-vi-keeland/1114962845
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/belong-to-you

Made for You

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/made-for-you/id84550637
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/made-for-you-vi-keeland/1115883225
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/belong-to-you

Other books from Penelope Ward:

Gentleman Nine
Amazon:http://amzn.to/2ELlxJl
iBooks: http://bit.ly/2D7K7Qi
Nook: http://bit.ly/2EPuDCn
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2nMeoP3
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2C9ESTm
Audio : http://amzn.to/2nHRlVQ

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

Mack Daddy:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWzE1S
iTunes: http://apple.co/2iNrIPj
B&N: http://hyperurl.co/aiypfj
Kobo: http://hyperurl.co/r3hv19

RoomHate
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TksrpE
iTunes: http://apple.co/1PgsvE7
B&N: http://bit.ly/1PLGnSL
kobo: http://bit.ly/1POvSnW

Stepbrother Dearest
Amazon http://amzn.to/1mFNMeg
ITunes: http://bit.ly/YER0mT
B&N: http://bit.ly/1taMFjG
kobo: http://bit.ly/1fJaaBs

Neighbor Dearest
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2aS8BPa
iTunes: http://apple.co/29mC6L8
B&N: http://bit.ly/2akQ2aq
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2axt1SY

Sins of Sevin
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1F9tbc3
iTunes: http://apple.co/1K8mzGg
B&N: http://bit.ly/1hTKAKE
kobo: http://bit.ly/1OaGY3D

Jake Undone (Jake #1)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1dJrHBC
iTunes: http://apple.co/1fJayQ8
B&N: http://bit.ly/1obAwJ6
kobo: http://bit.ly/1SPKl0M

My Skylar
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1obOG2F
iTunes: http://bit.ly/SLNOTR
B&N: http://bit.ly/SLO1qi
kobo: http://bit.ly/1kNrtAB

Jake Understood (Jake #2)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GFdves
iTunes: http://apple.co/1DQQwgC
B&N: http://bit.ly/1FwJC0z
kobo: http://bit.ly/1LQ7Fvk

Gemini
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1vgk1SE
iTunes: http://apple.co/1QTaONj
B&N: http://bit.ly/1KfmLHD
kobo: http://bit.ly/1BGJ2wu

Excerpt Reveal + Pre-Order: The Birthday List by Devney Perry

 

 

Happily married to her college sweetheart, Poppy lived a blessed life with the husband of her dreams. Then everything changed. She is no longer a wife. She is no longer the envy of her single friends. Now, people look at her with pity as they whisper a single word behind her back.

Widow.

Years after her husband’s tragic death, years of pain and sorrow and wishing for the life she’ll never get back, Poppy decides to finish Jamie’s birthday list. She’ll do the things he wanted to most. Because maybe, just maybe, if she can complete his list, she can start to live again.

Poppy expects going through the birthday list will be hard. She expects it to hurt. But what she doesn’t expect is Cole. Could the man who delivered the news of her husband’s death and shattered her heart be the one to help her put it back together again?

 

ADD TO GOODREADS

 

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Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo

 

“That’s quite a list.” Cole nodded toward the journal in between bites.

“It is.” My smile faltered at the way his jaw hardened.

“Are you planning on doing these all by yourself?”

“Um, yes.” How else was I going to get through them all?

“That’s going to take a while.”

“I hope not,” I sighed. “My goal is to get them done before New Year’s.”

“What?” His spoon dropped into the jar, clinking against the glass. “That’s less than six months away.”

“I know.” Just thinking about all I still had to do made my shoulders fall. “I thought I could do it, but with the restaurant and some of the bigger things on the list, it will take longer. I was really hoping to have it done before Jamie’s birthday.”

That seemed impossible now. With the restaurant and all of the other things I was adding to my daily schedule, piling on more was going to wear me thin. If I didn’t let up, my self-imposed deadline would stress me to the max.

Which meant it would take just that much longer to put this list behind me. Could I do it if I added another year? Maybe two?

I didn’t have to do this all so soon. But I wanted to. I wanted to do this for Jamie and let it go. Every day, I was getting stronger. I was getting back on my feet. I was starting to live again—for me.

And until the list was done, I’d still be living for Jamie.

“Look.” Cole leaned his elbows on the table. “I don’t want to step on your toes. This is an awesome list and he had some cool ideas. If you want to do them on your own, I understand. I get that this is incredibly personal. But if you’d like, I’d be glad to help you with some of these.

“What?” I didn’t know what made me smile more. That he thought Jamie’s list was cool or that he wanted to help. Regardless, I was beaming. “You’d really help?”

Cole’s eyes were sparkling again. “In a heartbeat.”

 

Devney is the USA Today bestselling author of the Jamison Valley series. She lives in Montana with her husband and two children. After working in the technology industry for nearly a decade, she abandoned conference calls and project schedules to enjoy a slower pace at home with her kids. She loves reading and, after consuming hundreds of books, decided to share her own stories. Devney loves hearing from readers! Connect with her on social media.

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Newsletter

 

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!

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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

Excerpt:

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.”

“Hmm.”

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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Preorder Today!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2HzBm3B

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/FearlessCP

Amazon Print – http://amzn.to/2EBPdbJ

iBooks: https://apple.co/2EDBYr9

Nook: http://bit.ly/2xZIS45

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2y4ubyJ

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

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2yrtIaL

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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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Connect with Carly:

Sign up for Carly’s Newsletter at: http://www.carlyphillips.com/newsletter-sign-up/
Sign up for Blog and Website updates at: http://www.carlyphillips.com/blog
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Instagram: https://instagram.com/carlyphillips
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Website: www.carlyphillips.com

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.

ADD TO GOODREADS

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AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON CA | AMAZON AU

 

 

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?

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?”

“Promise.”

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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