Winning the ultimate prize
Since the accident that paralyzed him, Italian tycoon Mauro Evans vowed to embrace life. So when he stars in a dating show for charity, picking prickly journalist Amber Harris as the winner to take on holiday is a challenge he can't resist! In Amber's experience, relationships equal pain, so she's determined to ignore her attraction to charismatic Mauro. But his bravery and strength threaten to tear down her defenses, giving her a new Christmas dreamringing in the New Year with wedding bells!
An amazing holiday in the Italy was the only positive thing Amber was looking forward to after the disaster of a dating show appearance for a charity. And she didn't like Mauro, her date for the holiday because she found him all too attractive, too much of a playboy, to be comfortable around him.
As soon as Mauro sees Amber he realizes that no matter how attractive she is there's no way he could have a fling with her during the week in Italy because she isn't the type for a fling, and that's all he has to offer to any woman. The setup for the novel is cute and humorous, the holiday destination definitely something to be dreaming about. I loved that the hero Mauro was a well functioning disabled athlete, any time the romance novels takes a side road from the cookie-cutter-perfect-people I jump and cheer. And Mauro was well functioning indeed, he had made that his life goal, like many disabled in one way or the other do, to make the most of their life with pushing the boundaries. The attraction between Mauro and Amber is palpable, it is heavy , heady, and addictive. The first kiss was off the charts hot and worth mentioning. Mauro and Amber has a lot in common, they have an obvious connection but the week they have in Italy didn't go as well as expected. They both have issues, past relationships they still are processing, that is still affecting their behavior and decisions. Their week at the villa is a mix of activities in the sun, long talks getting to know each other, and awkward moments when the attraction they feel pulls them too close to the fire. Amber's nearly neurotic behavior in Italy and Mauro falling for the old habits as soon as the holiday was over were setbacks in the story for me, but the author managed to pull them of the swamp with a conclusive ending that made me smile. ~ Three Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
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Ellie Darkins is a writer, editor and reader of romance novels. When she's not tapping away at her keyboard she can usually be found next to the kettle, knitting *another* jumper, or in the local library sampling the coffee, cake and romance novels.
Connect with the author: WEBSITE FACEBOOK TWITTER
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More Than Friends
Kendrick Place #1 By: Jody Holford Releasing December 5, 2016 Entangled
Owen Burnett planned on a quiet, easygoing Christmas, hanging out with his best friend and neighbor, Gabby Michaelson. So when his mom pressures him to come home for the holidays, he tells a little white lie…that he’s spending the holidays with his new girlfriend. But when his family shows up unexpectedly, Owen pulls the best friend card and asks Gabby to play his fake girlfriend.
Gabby’s been hopelessly in love with her best friend Owen for what feels like forever, but playing his "fake" girlfriend when the entire boisterous Burnett clan visits is easier said than done. The more she tries to deny the attraction between them, the more obvious their chemistry becomes. But even though she's not the only one feeling it, putting their friendship on the line is a risk she can’t take. Gabby groaned. “How could I tell my mom it wasn’t true? That I made something up to stay home? I feel like a jerk, but I can’t tell her. Please, Gabby.” Shaking her head, she began to pace again, her breath coming in short bursts. “Please what? Pretend to be your girlfriend for a week? No one will buy it. Half the time I’m not even sure you know I’m female.” What? Sure, he didn’t think of her that way, but he wasn’t blind. She was definitely female. It’s not like he hadn’t noticed she had…breasts and curves and…damn, now he was thinking of both those things. He stared down at the ground, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of her…femininity more than ever before. Even without looking at her, he could picture the elegant curve of her neck and the show of skin where her sweater hung loose, her gorgeous hair that made him think of rich chocolate and her pretty face with her endless, open smiles. Just because they were friends didn’t mean he was completely oblivious. Looking up, he saw she’d turned away, her hands gripping the counter. He might not have thought too much about it, but he could damn well see she was a woman. And he didn’t need that knowledge or awareness getting in the way. He watched the rise and fall of her back, and then she turned and walked away from him. In the living room, she took over his spot by the window, staring out at the inky black sky. The stars were like little cutouts of light peeking in. He leaned against the arch separating the living room and kitchen. “Look at me.” He waited until she did. “I know I’m asking a lot. It’ll probably be awkward. My family is loud and messy. Messier than you, if you can imagine.” She tried to scowl at him, but it had no heat, and that felt like a small victory. “I know you hate to lie and I hate asking you to. But you love Christmas and so do they. I don’t want to wreck it for them. It’s not a big deal—a few days with my family and no one will know otherwise. I’m asking you to help me and in return, I…I’ll give you something I know you’ve been wanting for a long time.” Because he was staring at her so intently, he saw the way her eyes darkened and her chest flushed. Trying to avoid looking at her breasts, he caught her gaze again. Owen walked across the room once more, the scent of her shampoo catching him off-guard, kicking him in the gut with the delicious sweetness of it. Like candy or gingerbread. Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad. “What’s that?” she whispered, folding her arms so one hand rested on her biceps and the other rested against her mouth. Closing the distance between them, he reached out a hand and stroked her hair. Her hands dropped to her sides. He trailed his finger down her jaw to her chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. She really did have gorgeous eyes. Knock-a-man-on-his-ass eyes that were watching him, full of an emotion he couldn’t name. He smiled, bent his knees again, and then pinched her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “My apartment.”
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Jody Holford is a multi-published author who has a soft spot for happily ever after. So much so, she tattooed the words on her arm.
She’s a mom and a wife, a friend, sister, daughter, teacher, and book-lover. Her stories have a little bit of heat and a lot of heart. And maybe, some swoon-worthy moments that will make you smile. Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
Temptation under the mistletoe
Specialist Juliet Turner flies halfway across the world to England with her young daughter, Bea, to perform lifesaving in utero surgery. But her first white Christmas is complicated by the feelings awakened by ob-gyn Dr. Charlie Warren! Juliet has protected her heart for years, but she soon finds there's so much more to this closed-off widower than meets the eye. Perhaps it's time for them both to let go of the past, surrender to their burning chemistry and make this a Christmas to remember!
This story left me in awe with the medical advances we have in today's world and with the personnel who carry that amazing responsibility on their shoulders, and not take it lightly.
The set up in the tale is engrossing and intriguing. The whole idea of a sending a doctor from Australia to the UK to operate a surgery just blew my mind. The author clearly knew her stuff, or faked it perfectly, since it didn't even come to my mind while reading to question her knowledge and authority in the matters of medicine. I liked the hospital environment and the secondary characters surely got my interest and started to wonder about their destinies and faith in life. Bea was adorable, and her connection with Charlie was given hints about but left mostly to the imagination, and boy can mine run fast. I loved those two together, and Bea's reasoning to the connection with Charlie just melted my heart right there and then. He had me at 'honey'... There was a considerable amount of conflict between the two doctors, Juliet and Charlie, they had their difference of an opinion about the medical matters as well as they disagreed on several times in personal lives. When you add that it all truly happen in a week or so time, as passionate, absorbing, and lovely as the romance story was, this called, in my humble opinion, an epilogue. Even a month or two ahead could have made a difference. Yes, the possibilities were amazing, ardent, and potent, and I even believe in the insta-love at the first sight or at least the strong interest, but now I just have to read the last book in series to see if it gives me a clue what happens then. Fascinating and impressive medical miracles that left me in awe and inspired, medical professionals whose dedication to their careers impressed, a little sweet and bossy Bea filled with intelligence and sass, and alluring romance after years of living with pain and tragedy made an appealing and arresting story ~ Four Spoons
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Sweet Southern Bad Boy
Harmony Homecomings #3 By: Michele Summers Releasing December 6, 2016 Sourcebooks Casablanca
HE’S GOT SOMETHING SHE WANTS
When Katie McKnight gets lost location-scouting for her father’s TV studio, she stumbles upon the perfect setting for their angsty new teen vampire series—a remote barn house unfortunately occupied by a grouchy, disheveled, and incredibly sexy man who instantly mistakes her for the new nanny. Should Katie tell him the truth, or get her foot in the door? SHE’S GOT EVERYTHING HE NEEDS Bestselling author Vance Kerner doesn’t just have writer’s block—he’s been run ragged ever since he was saddled with taking care of his brother’s three kids, an adopted kitten, and a runaway mutt. The last thing he needs is a teen drama defiling his property, but with fascinating and unconventional Katie underfoot charming the entire Kerner household, Vance is finding it harder and harder to say no. Katie agrees to babysit, if Vance allows the film crew access to his property. Vance agrees to keep an open mind for the peace he needs to write. But having Katie underfoot is anything but peaceful. And Vance is finding less and less time to write and more and more time to watch Katie weave a lovely spell on all the Kerners...especially him. Can these two opposites find a common ground and the love they both deserve? “Hey, there. You ain’t from around here, are ya’? I’m Clancy Perry.” Clancy stuck his hand out and Vance immediately hated the glint in his eyes. “Katie McKnight.” She shook Clancy’s hand. “You from Hollywood?” “Santa Monica, technically––” “Well, Katie McKnight…I’m your man.” Clancy ambled closer to Katie, blocking Vance with his back. “And I’d like to audition for any and all love scenes. Especially if I get to make love to Carrie Underwood or Brooklyn Decker.” “Oh, well––” Her unease was visible as she glanced at Vance. “You don’t have to pay me or nothing. I’d do it for free. As long as the actress is smokin’ hot.” Clancy inched closer to Katie. “Welcome to Harmony,” Vance said to Katie’s surprised or alarmed face (either would be fitting). He clapped Clancy on the shoulder over his worn Skoal T-shirt. “Look, go tell everyone not to stop by because there’s not going to be any movie. Got it?” “That ain’t what I heard––” “You’re hearing it now.” Clancy got that belligerent look on his face and was about to say something really stupid when Katie hooked her arm through his and steered him toward the door. “Mr. Perry, as soon as Mr. Kerner and I have ironed out all the details, I will personally let you know if there any parts in the miniseries suited for you,” she said to a goofy-smiling Clancy. “Thank you for stopping by and informing me of your availability.” Clancy shuffled his dirty cowboy boots on the wood floor. “Sure thang. Maybe you and me can talk over beers”––he made a suggestive leer with his tobacco-stained teeth–– “You ever ridden on the back of an ATV––” “She’s not available.” Vance cut in as he tried shoving Clancy out the door. “How do you know?” Clancy dug his booted heels in, halting Vance from slamming the door in his face. “You ain’t her boyfriend, you douche bag.” “Yes, I am. Now get the hell out of here,” he snarled in Clancy’s stupefied face. “And make sure you tell your brother Clinton, too.” Vance slammed the door so hard it rattled the frame. Katie stood with crossed arms. Pointing a finger at her disapproving face, he said, “Don’t give me that look. I did you a huge favor. Clancy and his brother Clinton are two characters you want to avoid. They don’t run on all four cylinders. They trim trees for a living and have fallen out of more than I can count, which explains the brain damage.” Katie took an aggressive step forward. “I don’t care about Clancy. You promised to listen to my proposal with an open mind. And now you’re saying no before I’ve had a chance to explain.” A wrinkle creased her brow directly below her widow’s peak. “And I’m not your girlfriend, you…you butthurt!” Unable to form a coherent thought, his pulse quickened as he stared at Katie’s flustered face and heaving chest beneath her oversized sweatshirt. “Did you just call me butthurt?” “Yeah. And I meant it.” Katie whirled around and stormed away. “I’m outta here. But I’m coming back tomorrow to present my proposal and you’re gonna listen.”
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Michele Summers enjoys writing smart romances with spunky heroines, witty heroes and wacky characters, along with a satisfying happily ever after. To her thrill and delight, she has won numerous awards for her writing.
When not writing, she loves her career as an interior designer and working with clients in NC and Miami where she lived for over 20 years. These days, she stays busy herding her college freshman and high school sophomore and spends a lot of time watching them compete statewide in tennis. Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS | INSTAGRAM
Someone like You
Oxford #3 By: Lauren Layne Releasing December 6, 2016 Loveswept
Lincoln Mathis doesn’t hide his reputation as Manhattan’s ultimate playboy. In fact, he cultivates it. But behind every flirtatious smile, each provocative quip, there’s a secret that Lincoln’s hiding from even his closest friends—a tragedy from his past that holds his heart quietly captive. Lincoln knows what he wants: someone like Daisy Sinclair, the sassy, off-limits bridesmaid he can’t take his eyes off at his best friend’s wedding. He also knows that she’s everything he can never have.
After a devastating divorce, Daisy doesn’t need anyone to warn her off the charming best man at her sister’s wedding. One look at the breathtakingly hot Lincoln Mathis and she knows that he’s exactly the type of man she should avoid. But when Daisy stumbles upon Lincoln’s secret, she realizes there’s more to the charming playboy than meets the eye. And suddenly Daisy and Lincoln find their lives helplessly entwined in a journey that will either heal their damaged souls . . . or destroy them forever. Advance praise for Someone Like You “Fun and flirty, sassy and steamy, with a deep emotional pull that will keep you turning the pages.”—Kelly Jamieson, author of Top Shelf “An unsung hero with a story that touched my heart. Emotional and gripping. A top favorite of 2016 for me.”--New York Times bestselling author Melanie Moreland “Lincoln, you know that I love you like a brother, but if you make a move on my sister, I will end you.” Lincoln Mathis took a slow sip of his cocktail as he studied the fierce bride-to-be. “I hope Cassidy knows how lucky he is. You’re so delicate and gentle.” Emma Sinclair, soon to be Emma Cassidy as of this time tomorrow, lifted one elegantly manicured fingernail and flicked his chest. “Promise, Lincoln. No hitting on Daisy.” “I don’t hit on women.” Emma gave him a look. He held up his free hand in surrender. “I don’t. They come to me. I’m like the stamen.” Emma stared at him with wide, slightly accusatory brown eyes. “The what?” “The stamen. The pollen-producing part of a flower, Sinclair. Don’t you watch the Discovery Channel? Animal Planet? I just saw a fascinating documentary on bees. See, when the bees land on a flower, their little feet pick up pollen from the stamen— “ “Mathis. Are you talking to my fiancée about semen?” Alex Cassidy asked, coming up beside Emma and setting a possessive hand on her waist. “Stamen,” Lincoln clarified. “Not semen. Honestly, is sex all you people think about?” “Yes.” This came from Riley Compton, a brunette bombshell whose status as New York’s foremost “sexpert” meant she had zero qualms about discussing sex at her best friend’s rehearsal dinner. “And you know, actually, the stamen is rather sexual. I saw that bee documentary too, because these are the sort of things you do when you’re nursing a never-satisfied baby, by the way, and the stamen is a flower’s male reproductive organ. Sexy, right?” Emma inserted the arm not holding her champagne flute between the two of them. “Guys, it’s my wedding weekend. Can we not talk about flower boners?” “Fair enough, Bride,” Lincoln said. “What do you want to talk about? Cassidy’s boner?” Alex Cassidy choked into his champagne. “There will be no boner discussion,” Emma said. “Lincoln and I were just having a chat about how Lincoln will be maintaining his distance from my sister.” “Speaking of flowers, where is Daisy?” Riley asked, scanning the room. “Running late. Knowing my sister, her dress had a slight crease from the suitcase, and she won’t make an appearance until every wrinkle’s banished, every hair’s in place, and there’s not a speck of lint anywhere.” “Gosh, however will I keep my hands to myself?” Lincoln muttered. “Lincoln, I swear to God—” “He’s messing with you, Em,” Cassidy said, carefully tugging his fiancée away from Lincoln. “Don’t let him press your buttons. And Lincoln, man, what is with that drink?” Lincoln glanced down. “It’s called a Jasmine. Gin, lemon, some Campari—” “It’s pink,” Cassidy observed. “Right? You want one?” Cassidy rolled his eyes. “I’ll stick with wine, thanks. Ah shit, there’s my grandma waving us over. Emma, you up for talk about the state of your uterus?” Emma groaned. “Oh no. I thought she’d agreed to wait until after the wedding to talk about my eggs.” “I’ll go with you,” Riley said. “As the only one in our little group of friends who’s ever pushed a human skull out my—” “Okay, I’m going to expand my taboo list,” Emma said. “No talking about boners, flowers, or vaginas.” “Fine,” Riley said, as she entwined her arm in Emma’s and started leading her toward Cassidy’s grandma. “But if Grams starts talking about fertility, just follow my lead . . . ” Lincoln smiled as he watched his friends walk away. He could follow, certainly, help run interference, but new mom Riley was a far better choice for this particular bridal-party duty. Besides, as best man, Lincoln had enough to worry about. The ring, reconfirming transportation to the church tomorrow, the speech that he was going to slay tomorrow, the-- Lincoln’s best man to-do list scattered as his eyes landed on a woman standing in the doorway to the private event room. He did a double take. When had Emma found time to change? Generally speaking, he didn't consider himself particularly in tune with his friends' clothes. Especially the women, because, well . . . he didn’t really give a crap. But he was pretty damn sure Emma had been wearing a white dress just ten seconds ago. Now she was wearing a short yellow dress, with fussy, flowy sleeves, high-necked and a bit demure-- No, not demure, Lincoln amended as she turned. Hot. The dress was backless, showing a smooth expanse of lightly tanned skin from the small of her back all the way up to long dark blond hair. . . . Blond hair. Emma had shoulder-length brown hair. A wardrobe swap, he might be able to buy, but the hair? You idiot. He was looking at none other than Daisy Sinclair, the forbidden fruit, in the flesh. He’d forgotten that Daisy wasn’t just Emma’s sister—she was Emma’s identical twin. Other than the fact that she was, apparently, not to be hit on, Lincoln didn’t know much about her. Well, he supposed he now knew that she dyed her hair blond. Or maybe Emma dyed hers brown? Whatever. Girl stuff he didn’t care about one way or the other. And yet he didn’t look away, captivated somehow. He racked his brain for everything he’d heard about Daisy Sinclair. He knew that she and Emma had grown up in North Carolina. But Emma left for New York City shortly after college, and Daisy had stayed. He thought he remembered talk of a recent divorce, although he didn’t recall the details. Didn’t need to, really. Lincoln knew better than anyone that not all relationships had happy endings. Lincoln watched as Daisy hesitated just inside the doorway, unnoticed yet by the rest of the bridal party and out-of-town guests. Making people comfortable was a particular skill of his. Normally he’d be over there in a heartbeat with a glass of wine and some of his best banter until her shoulders relaxed and he’d coaxed a smile from her pretty face. But he wasn’t entirely convinced Emma wouldn’t make good on her castration threats, so instead Lincoln merely studied Daisy. The woman was beautiful. No surprise there, since Emma was gorgeous. Yet, though their features were identical, they were attractive in entirely different ways. Emma was all polished confidence, stunning in an untouchable sort of way. Daisy was softer somehow. Gentler. She seemed . . . touchable. Lincoln’s cocktail froze on its way to his mouth as the forbidden rocked him back on his heels. Daisy Sinclair was not for him to touch for reasons that had nothing to do with Emma’s threats. As though sensing a man’s brooding thoughts on her, Daisy turned slightly, her eyes locking on his. Eyes that he’d known would be dark brown like Emma’s, and yet eye contact with Emma had never felt like this. Lincoln felt something akin to panic, because for a heart-stopping moment, it felt like Daisy Sinclair was seeing him. Not seeing the Lincoln he wanted everyone to see. The real him. He gave himself a little mental shake. Get it together, Mathis. The woman doesn’t even know you. None of them did. Not really. He saw the moment of answering shock in her own gaze, sensed that for a split second, she considered turning and running. From him, from the party, all of it. Then he saw something else. Something familiar, because he’d done it a thousand times himself. She squared her shoulders, and he watched as a mask slid into place. He knew even before she approached that Daisy was exactly like him—good at being around people only because she chose to be. Knew that perhaps once it had been second nature, and now it was nothing but a deliberate attempt to make sure everyone thought she was okay. Daisy began making her way toward him, and he tensed for reasons he couldn’t identify before ordering himself to chill out. It was just his friend’s sister. The maid of honor to his best man. She stopped in front of him, and he caught just the faintest whiff of her perfume, a surprisingly elegant scent for someone named Daisy, before she extended her hand. “You must be Lincoln Mathis, The Manwhore of Whom I Should Beware?” Her voice was a surprise. It had the same low huskiness as her sister’s, but years in New York had all but erased the Southern from Emma’s whiskey-raspy voice. Daisy’s drawl was very much intact—a mint julep on a hot day. He grinned and took her smaller hand in his. “Which would make you Daisy Sinclair, Delicate Flower to Whom I’m Not to Speak.” She grinned. “Nailed it.”
Lauren Layne is the USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen romantic comedies. She lives in New York City with her husband (who was her high school sweetheart--cute, right?!) and plus-sized Pomeranian.
In 2011, she ditched her corporate career in Seattle to pursue a full-time writing career in Manhattan, and never looked back. In her ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books. For a list of all her works, please be sure to check out her official website! Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram
Nobody is going to hurt her—not on his watch
A DEA stealth mission has brought coast guard Lt. Commander Eli Pelletier home. But when he ends up aiding rescue swimmer Aubrey Wynn during her own harrowing mission, powerful emotions reignite between them. Except Aubrey doesn't want Eli's protection. She wants answers. Twelve years ago, Eli broke up with Aubrey without telling her the real reason he was leaving Pacific Cove. How can he try for a second chance if he's forced to deceive her again? Amid suspected drug trafficking and a sabotaged Christmas contest, Eli must find a way to regain Aubrey's trust without compromising his career or endangering the woman he loves.
A charming and tender tale about friends, second chances, with a dash of suspense and intrigue mixed in.
Aubrey and Eli's reunion set them both back immediately by twelve years, the last time they were together. It was like no time had gone by, the feelings, the old habits, the intense protectiveness Eli had towards her was immediately there. And that, with their break-up history, is what was tainting their reconciliation. But of course, there's more to the past events that either of them was aware of. I liked the connection between Eli and Aubrey, they are both strong and independent characters, yet fiercely protective of each other. The way they worked on the issues and sought for answers to understand the past gave them a new chance at a future together, if they didn't mess it up. They did go a little back and forth, but not to the point of being irritating. The mystery gave the story more spice and conflicts between the characters. It wasn't up in the front of the story, and most of the action in the book was from the rescue missions Aubrey and Eli worked with. But it had its place in the plot. The slower pace of the tale gave the characters time to ponder and grow, learn from their mistakes and take action to make things better. It also gave my mind the chance to wonder, at times losing the focus from the story. Delightful Christmas activities, dangerous rescue moments, old relationships looked in a new way as the people of Pacific Cove get through the rocky Christmas season ~ Three Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
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Taken
LOST #5 By: Cynthia Eden Releasing November 29, 2016 Avon Books
HE SWORE TO PROTECT HER . . .
Bailey Jones somehow survived her harrowing abduction by the infamous Death Angel. But while her physical scars have healed, she can’t stop wondering about a woman she helped to escape, who simply disappeared. When LOST agent Asher Young is assigned to her case, Bailey instantly feels an attraction to the intense ex-SEAL who seems to be carrying dark secrets of his own. BUT KEEPING HIS PROMISE . . . Asher can’t afford to let his growing feelings for Bailey distract him from his job. Only she can soothe his horrific nightmares, but the last thing he wants is for the demons from his past to ever hurt her. Bailey has gotten past his guard, and the emotions he feels for her—they’re as dark and dangerous as the past he doesn’t want to face. COULD COST BOTH THEIR LIVES When corpses begin surfacing—all marked with the same tattoo depicting the Death Angel’s calling card—Asher must race to stop a twisted killer who wants nothing more than to claim his next prize: Bailey . . .
A gory, cruel and intense thriller with rough, bloody crimes, vivid images, sharp characters, intriguing investigation - the story pulled me into the mysterious web of crimes committed at the Blue Ridge Mountains, and it kept me glued to my kindle, biting my nails till the early morning hours.
With absolutely superb, twisted plot and fresh writing, the author paints pictures that seep into your mind. The scenes are told from several different points of view, giving a well-rounded picture of the events. I was mesmerized with the investigation, emotionally invested in the case to be solved, hoping everyone could survive the crazy menace thriving on the mountains. The violence and brutality of the crimes are harsh and bone-chilling, there's no mercy for the victims in the culprit's mind, it is the battle of survival, and no one is safe in the games they play with life and death. Both Bailey and Asher are strong characters, survivors, fighting to stay in control and make through another night. Their history has similarities, but beyond the shared experience, they have an enchanting connection, understanding, and adoration with each other. There are scenes between Bailey and Asher that melt my heart. The attraction is as fierce as the crimes committed, there are edginess and desperation, yet sweet tenderness, when so needed, fiery protectiveness from any threats. The secondary characters didn't lack for depth and rich personalities either as they contribute greatly to the tale and ongoing investigation, even development of the budding relationship. Edgy, dramatic, and powerful, each moment as intense as the other, savage crimes, intelligent and sharp investigation, with doom behind each corner, and destinies yet unknown with ardent and heartfelt romance the author gave us a story that left me in as much in horror from the crimes committed as in wonder of the charm, grace, and beauty of the survivors and investigators. A defendant WOW at the end ~ Five Spoons!
“Bailey Jones . . .” Asher said her name softly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “There are a few things you should know about me before we begin.”
There are things you should know about me, too. But I’m not going to tell you . . . or you won’t help me. “First, you don’t have to fear me. Part of my job at LOST—well, let’s just say Gabe hired me on because he wanted a bit more muscle. Protection is my role. I’ll keep you safe and track down any clues about that missing woman. On my watch, nothing will happen to you.” She nodded even though-- I don’t believe you. There is no safety. I learned that. “And second . . . you don’t have to bullshit me.” Now she blinked in surprise. He laughed, a deep, rough rumble of sound that Bailey found she liked to hear. “You think I can’t tell when you’re wearing a mask? You’ve got yourself locked down tight, under careful control, don’t you? But you don’t have to do that with me. I’m not one of the North Carolina deputies. I’m not going to judge you. And I’m not some lame-ass reporter who wants to splash your story all over the world.” I wear a mask all the time now because something is wrong inside of me. It has been, ever since that fire. That hole. That hell. “So let’s put a no-bullshit rule in effect,” he murmured. Her hands curled around the steering wheel. “Liking rules, is that more of a military thing again?” “Wanting to break rules . . . that’s why I left the SEALs.” He’d been a SEAL? She turned to look up at him. “Is there a rule number three?” “We’ll get to that rule later . . .” She started the vehicle. “I’ll follow you to your place.” “Do you have any rules for me?” Don’t hurt me. Don’t judge me. Don’t pity me. Bailey cleared her throat. “I’m sure we can get to those rules later, too.” He slammed her door shut. Through the window, Bailey watched as he strode away—not to another car, but to a shiny, big monster of a motorcycle. He climbed on, revved the engine moments later, and that rumbling growl filled the parking garage. Asher slid the helmet over his head—a black helmet with a dark visor that completely obscured his face. Her heart beat faster as she stared at him. Dangerous. That had been her first thought when she’d seen him in the conference room. But he was on her side. Not a threat to her. He’d help her. At least, that was what she hoped. Because if something didn’t change soon, Bailey was afraid that the deputies would be right about her. Her shrink would be right. I may go crazy.
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Award-winning author Cynthia Eden writes dark tales of paranormal romance and romantic suspense. She is a New York Times, USA Today, Digital Book World, and IndieReader bestseller. Cynthia is also a two-time finalist for the RITA® Award (she was a finalist both in the romantic suspense category and in the paranormal romance category).
Since she began writing full-time in 2005, Cynthia has written more than thirty novels and novellas. She lives along the Alabama Gulf Coast. Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
KISS ME FOR CHRISTMAS
Three romantic comedies to light your fire! Releasing December 5, 2016 Entangled Lovestruck
LITTLE WHITE LIE by USA Today bestselling author Christine Bell and author Riley Murphy
Leah Latrelle has landed herself in the proverbial holiday hot seat. To get her family off her back, she told them she has a fiancé. And now they want to meet him. But just when it seems her goose is cooked, her sexy-as-sin business partner offers Leah a deal she can’t refuse… ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS by Ros Clarke Advertising exec Hugh Munro hasn’t forgotten last year’s scorching-hot kiss with buttoned-up Anna Gardner, and kissing her again at the annual office party only strengthened his resolve to make her his. If all he wants for Christmas is Anna, he’ll have to prove it…to both of them. HOLLY’S FIRST NOEL by USA Today bestselling author Serenity Woods What better way for Holly Jones to get over her ex than spending the holidays in solitude with the sexy teacher in the class next door? Except, there’s nothing solitary about their time together—especially not the innocent kiss that flares into much, much more…
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On Sale for $.99 from Dec 5th – Dec 11th
Christine Bell is a USA Bestselling Author of contemporary romance novels and one half of the happiest couple in the world. She and her handsome hubby currently reside in Pennsylvania with a four-pack of teenage boys and their two dogs, Gimli and Pug. If she gets time off from her duties as maid, chef, chauffeur, or therapist, she can be found reading just about anything she can get her hands on, from Young Adult novels to books on poker theory.
She doesn’t like root beer, clowns or bugs (except ladybugs, on account of their cute outfits), but lurrves chocolate, going to the movies, the New York Giants and playing Texas Hold ‘Em. Writing is her passion, but if she had to pick another occupation, she would be a pirate…or, like, a ninja maybe. She loves writing fun, sexy romances, but also hopes to one day publish something her dad can read without wanting to dig his eyes out with rusty spoons. Christine loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to get in touch with her via the Contact Page, or find her on Twitter @_ChristineBell. Riley Murphy writes sexy, humorous and emotional romance, happy ending guaranteed. An optimist, she believes life is awesome, people are complicated, but in a good way, and we should never stop learning. Riley currently resides in Florida with her gorgeous husband. She has two wonderful kids and one very bossy English Bull terrier. When Riley's not working she enjoys reading, oil painting, and getting to the Sunday crossword puzzle before anyone else does, so she can fill-in all the easy answers first. If Riley wasn't a writer she'd be an international spy with top-level security so she could have a peek at Area 51 and decide for herself if those green guys are for real. Riley loves her characters and she hopes you do too. USA Today Bestselling Author Serenity Woods lives in the sub-tropical Northland of New Zealand with her wonderful husband and gorgeous teenage son. She writes hot and sultry contemporary romances with a happy ever after, and she would much rather immerse herself in reading or writing romance than do the dusting and ironing, which is why it’s not a great idea to pop round if you have any allergies. Ros’s first short story was published by Entangled in December 2011. Since then she has written and published six contemporary category-style romances and a further six short stories. Writing as Sophie Carr, she has also published a Regency romance.
Wrong Brother, Right Match
Anyone But You #3 By: Jennifer Shirk Releasing December 5, 2016 Entangled Bliss
Matchmaking guru Kennedy Pepperdine’s life is perfect. Perfect job. Perfect friends. Perfect boyfriend. Except...when she gets trapped in an elevator with a handsome stranger, she accidentally confesses a secret: maybe her perfect boyfriend, Justin, isn’t so perfect for her after all. But a matchmaker should be able to successfully match herself, right? Thankfully, she’ll never see the handsome stranger again. Until she heads home with Justin for the holidays and learns that the sexy stranger is none other than Justin’s older brother, Matt.
Matt Ellis is trying to be on his best behavior for his mother—it is Christmas, after all. But when he recognizes the beautiful woman from the elevator—the one he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for months—his best behavior is being held by a thread. Matt’s always sacrificed for his family, and nothing is more important than their happiness, but the more time he spends around Kennedy, the more he wonders if her supposed "right match" might just be the wrong brother. Matt looked at his sister. “What do you think?” “We can let her in on the secret,” Caitlyn said with a huge grin. “She’s definitely one of us.” Matt hesitated. “Okay. The truth is…we all hate the fruitcake.” “I knew it!” she exclaimed then frowned. “But I don’t understand. Why pretend to like it, then?” “Honestly? Because none of us has the heart to tell her the truth. It makes her so happy. She’s one of the two percent who actually enjoys it.” “And your dad,” she added. “He liked it, too. Your mom said so.” Matt shook his head gravely. “No, he hated it the most.” Kennedy blinked then looked to Caitlyn. “He did?” “Yup.” Caitlyn shrugged. “Like Matt said, we didn’t have the heart to make her feel bad on Christmas. At least this time she didn’t put any figs or dried pineapple in it. That was a particularly bad year. Although Justin tolerated it the best out of all of us.” Kennedy cracked a smile. “So your mom goes through all this trouble of making a fruitcake every Christmas and she’s the only one who eats it?” “Oh, no,” Matt assured her. “We’ll all choke down a slice. You, too, since you’ll soon be part of the family. And we’ll all tell her how great it is. It’s tradition.” “Tradition,” Caitlyn echoed firmly. Kennedy laughed. Oh my, if she didn’t already love this family, this aspect of it only endeared them to her more. “Well, your secret is safe with me. I love traditions myself.” “That’s good,” Caitlyn said, cracking herself up, “because you and Matt are standing under the mistletoe.” What?! Kennedy cautiously looked up as if to find the Sword of Damocles dangling over her, but instead found a small green ball of mistletoe tied up with ribbon. Crap! Her gaze dropped to Matt, who held a gleam of interest in his eyes, and her cheeks caught fire. “Oh, well, that’s a silly tradition,” she said hurriedly, “I mean, we don’t have to do that.” Do we? Barbara walked back into the room. “What don’t you have to do?” Caitlyn pointed to the ball. “Matt and Kennedy are under the mistletoe.” “Oh, how nice,” Barbara said, clasping her hands. “Kiss her, Matt. It’s Christmas after all.” Matt glanced at Kennedy and stiffened, but without further argument leaned in to her. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird in anticipation. She caught the pleasant scent of pine and soap on his skin as he brushed his lips against her cheek, hovering for just a few brief seconds before he was once again at a safe distance from her. Such a simple kiss, yet her emotions whirled and skidded. “I’d better get going,” Matt murmured, backing into the door. His mom frowned. “Are you okay, dear? Maybe you should sit down a bit first.” “No, I need to get kissing—er, going. I need to go.” His gaze reluctantly returned to hers, and his voice dipped. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?” She nodded, not trusting her voice. Then he was out the door as if suddenly spooked. Unfortunately, she knew exactly how he felt.
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Jennifer Shirk has a bachelor degree in pharmacy-which has in NO WAY at all helped her with her writing career. But she likes to point it out, since it shows romantic-at-hearts come in all shapes, sizes, and mind-numbing educations.
She writes sweet (and sometimes even funny) romances for Samhain Publishing, Avalon Books/Montlake Romance and now Entangled Publishing. She won third place in the RWA 2006 NYC's Kathryn Hayes Love and Laughter Contest with her first book, THE ROLE OF A LIFETIME. Recently, her novel SUNNY DAYS FOR SAM won the 2013 Golden Quill Published Authors Contest for Best Traditional Romance. Lately she's been on a serious exercise kick. But don't hold that against her. Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
UNDERCOVER GUARDIAN
Days before Christmas, CIA agent Amber Starke is on the run with her murdered best friend's special-needs son. And they're next on his criminal father's hit list. Amber failed her undercover mission to bring down her friend's husband for his crimes, but she won't fail to protect her friend's son. Now that the killer knows she's not just a nanny but an agent, she must rely on her childhood crush, Deputy Lance Goode. The handsome lawman was burned in love by his first wife, who was killed while evading the law. But he'll do everything he can to help Amber, except offer his heart. Unlocking the secrets in Amber's autistic charge is the key to their survival, but with the killer on their trail, one mistake could cost them their lives.
A non-stop thrill ride to save their lives when a CIA agent's cover is blown, the life of a special needs child in her protection is in danger from his father, and the only place to go is back home.
This was a gripping tale with the constant fear filled action and twists in the plot. The tension is high, and with the blown undercover identity Amber has no idea who she can trust from her agency. The only people she can rely on are family and people back home, but bringing danger to their doorsteps could have unthinkable consequences. The suspense and action were well built, the intensity is high, and the spins in the plot keeps the fervor and energy soaring. Sam, the special needs child who's father wants him dead, has autism, and he sees life, relates to it, as numbers. I really loved that part, number geek as I am, I even understood some of his thought process with them. I do not know that much about autism, but how it was described felt real, authentic, and credible. His relationship to Amber was touching, and later on with Lance so natural. Amber and Lance have both struggled with their faith. Now faced with not only with each other again, but with life and death situation, and keeping Sam alive, the basic questions about life, faith, and future are in their minds. I loved it when Amber told Lance that she felt guilty about being angry with God, Lance answered to her that God is big enough to deal with our anger. Their conversations about faith in God were comforting and encouraging, giving hope and light in the dire situation they were in and relatable to real life issues, as well. Enthralling action and suspense, a shy and sweet growing romance between childhood friends, a destiny of a little boy that is sure to touch hearts of the readers in addition to encouraging and inspiring growth in faith and conversations about God, made a compelling tale, a story that was hard to put down ~ Four Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
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Lynette Eason grew up in Greenville, SC. She graduated from the University of South Carolina, Columbia, and then obtained her masters in education from Converse College. Author of twenty inspirational romantic suspense books, she is also a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and Romance Writers of America (RWA). In 1996, Lynette married "the boy next door" and now she and her husband and their two children make their home in Simpsonville, South Carolina.
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In Mistletoe
By: Tammy L. Bailey Releasing December 2, 2016 The Wild Rose Press
At twenty-five, Grace Evans is steadily picking up the pieces of everyone else’s life. So, when her younger sister decides to turn into a runaway bride just four weeks before the wedding, Grace, drops everything to chase after her and bring her back home. Only, when the trail leads to Mistletoe, Washington, she finds herself at the mercy of the town’s most handsome and emotionally unavailable bachelor.
Ex-Army officer, Ayden McCabe, has three creeds in life: never make the first move, never fall in love, and never take anyone to Mistletoe’s Christmas Dance. Wanting nothing more than to keep his matchmaking sister from meddling in his personal life, he agrees to help Grace if she agrees to play his girlfriend. Too brunette and meek for his taste, Ayden believes Grace can’t tempt him enough to break any of his creeds. He could not be more wrong. “Do you like rum cake?” he asked to keep himself from having to reevaluate all the reasons again. He admitted Wilhelmina Hawthorne’s dessert was more alcohol than flour, but anything to keep Grace from leaving him to go check her text messages in case the damn wish somehow made it through…not that he believed in the folklore in the first place. “Sure, but I’m not very good with liquor.” She tucked a piece of dark hair behind her ear. He chuckled, imagining her getting wild and disrobing on top of his antique coffee table. “So, what happens with you and alcohol?” She smiled. “I don’t take off my clothes, if that what you’re asking.” “Damn.” She laughed but lifted a dainty finger as if to give him a warning. “I fall asleep, so I can have some cake, but keep in mind there’s a very good chance my face will fall flat into the plate after my third bite.” “I’ll take that chance.” “It’s your call.” She shrugged. He left her to retrieve Wilhelmina’s prized rum cake, deciding to bring the entire Bundt-shaped dessert with two forks resting on each side. When he entered the room, he found Grace sitting in quiet contemplation, her attention focused on the dormant redbrick fireplace. Since he’d installed the gas furnace several years before, he’d not had any desire to light the fireplace up again, even when his dates hinted several times of how romantic it would be to cuddle before a crackling fire. “Are you cold?” he asked. She peered up, startled. “No, I’m fine.” She tried to stifle a shiver, and he sat the plate down and ambled away to retrieve some logs from his deck. Despite not using the fireplace, he understood the importance of keeping it ready for emergencies. It took several minutes, but he managed to build a popping fire, the sweet aroma of sizzling sap filling the space with a comforting fragrance. She moved to sit beside him, bringing the blanket his mother made with her. “This feels wonderful.” Grace closed her eyes and let the flickering light kiss her cheeks. “Yes.” He sat captivated by her entranced features, realizing how he’d reminisced about kissing her, every glorious inch of her. “Are you ready for some football…and cake?” He projected his voice above the tone of his own thoughts. Her lids flew open, and he wondered where she’d been these last few moments, and with whom. The thought unsettled him. “Are you ready to carry me up a flight of stairs?” He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Only if you’re fully naked.” “How did I know you were going to say that?” She sighed and maneuvered around so the cake sat between them on the short coffee table. As he flipped the game on and muted the volume, she lifted a small bite to her lips when he reached out to stop her. She gave him a quizzical look. “What’s the matter?” “How about we make this interesting?” She drew back, and he knew she didn’t trust his motives. “How…interesting?”
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Tammy L. Bailey grew up in historical Appomattox, Virginia and moved to Ohio the day after she graduated high school. A third generation veteran, she joined the Army National Guard in 1988, served five years in the active duty Army, and retired as a Master Sergeant from the Ohio Air National Guard in 2011. She is a wife and a mother of two boys. She is a huge Jane Austen fan and loves watching Jane Austen movie adaptations.
When she's not writing contemporary or historical romance, she enjoys Star Wars movie night with her 10-year-old son and going to drumming practice with her 13-year-old son. Fall is her favorite season, the B-17 is her favorite plane, and Hawkeye is her favorite Avenger. Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
Raphael's Fling
The Darcy Brothers By: Alix Nichols Releasing November 17, 2016 Self-Published
My name is Mia Stoll and I dream about publishing a monograph on medieval Paris. Problem is, I’m better qualified for writing a handbook on how to go from a budding scholar to a pregnant runaway in three easy steps.
- - - My sister Eva carries a torch for the wrong man. Here’s the gist of my sermons to her: “Drooling over your hunky astronaut boss is a loser’s trek to Calamity with three stops along the way: Heartbreak, Job Loss, and Spinsterhood.” The thing is, I’m in a terrible—you could even say impossible—position to lecture Eva. I’m attracted to my own boss. Raphael d’Arcy is funny, smart, and uber-rich. He’s also smoking hot. That alone should have scared me away, were I not such a dolt, my academic achievements notwithstanding. But there’s more. Raphael is France’s most notorious playboy who doesn’t do relationships. He does one-night stands. If sufficiently intrigued, he might do a fling. Which is the most I could ever hope to have with him—a short-lived fling. So what, right? It’s not the end of the world. But consider this: Getting my heart broken by Raphael d’Arcy is the least of my worries. Some very serious merde has been piling up in my life lately. And it’s about to hit the fan. RAPHAEL'S FLING is a sexy standalone romantic comedy. No cliffhangers. GUARANTEED: a swoony bad-boy hero, laugh-out-loud moments and a happily-ever-after.
How did I come to this?
I sigh, smooth my clothes one last time, and head for the cream leather-padded door. “Mia, wait!” Raphael calls after me. I halt and turn around. He opens his chiseled mouth as if to say something, then shuts it, and gives me a tight smile. The smile of a person having second thoughts on the advisability of what he was going to say. Well, I’m not waiting around for the result of his inner deliberation. There are two bulky reports on my desk and a few dozen emails I need to go through before I can leave tonight. Ergo, time is of the essence. Ergo, I resume my hike across Raphael’s vast office until I reach the door. It unlocks smoothly and without a sound, bless its high-tech heart. A sneak peek into the hall to check if the coast is clear, and I slip away without saying good-bye to Raphael or Anne-Marie, his faithful PA. Just like a lawbreaker. Well, maybe not a lawbreaker, but definitely a reoffending violator of the Workplace Code of Honor. In particular, of Rule #1 which says: “Workers shall not have sexual intercourse with their hierarchical superiors, inferiors, or posteriors.” While there’s some controversy over the exact meaning of “inferiors” and “posteriors,” everyone knows that a “superior” is more than just your immediate boss. The concept also covers your boss’s boss, your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss and the Boss of Them All, the CEO. It’s a very sensible provision, by the way, and one which I totally approve of and adhere to. As I rush down the hallway, my heels clicking on the marble floor, I realize I should’ve put my observation in the past tense. As in “I used to adhere to.” Having repeatedly broken the Code’s first rule since March makes me a rogue and a hypocrite of the worst kind. How did I fall so low? Here’s a clue: it’s Rudolph the Reindeer’s fault. God knows, I hadn’t planned on this when I landed the world’s most unexceptional job as assistant to the daily bulletin editor at DCA Paris. DCA stands for “D’Arcy Consulting and Audit.” Yup, the “d’Arcy” that’s sandwiched between “Raphael” and the rest of his fancy name on my lover’s official letterhead paper. Having sexual intercourse with Raphael d’Arcy du Grand-Thouars de Saint-Maurice, a gentleman and a libertine, was the last thing on my mind when I started at DCA. In fact, it was nowhere near my mind. Despite my murky past, that’s not who I am. Nor does my life need more complications right now. Trust me. Pauline Cordier’s familiar silhouette takes shape at the end of the hallway just as I reach the elevator and push the button. My heart skips a beat. If my direct supervisor sees me on this floor, she’ll assume one of the following two things: A. My presence here is work-related, meaning I’m going over her head; B. My presence here has nothing to do with work, meaning I’m sleeping with one of the senior managers. Needless to say, both alternatives are equally conducive to me getting sidelined, ostracized, and ultimately fired. I take a deep breath and give the approaching figure a furtive glance. It isn’t Pauline. The woman doesn’t even look like her at this distance. Phew. You may not believe me, but I wasn’t sure what Raphael d’Arcy looked like when DCA hired me. Having scanned his official bio in preparation for my job interview, I had formed a vague image which boiled down to “young, well-born and well-dressed.” The specifics of the Founding CEO’s background and appearance hadn’t lingered in my mind. I doubt they’d even entered it. Because they were not important. All I wanted from Monsieur d’Arcy was a job at his firm that gave me a monthly paycheck to complement the pittance my school calls a scholarship. That way, I could finish my doctoral program without having to sleep under bridges or borrow money. Parisian bridges can be drafty, you see. And damp. As for the stench courtesy of well-groomed dogs and ill-groomed humans, don’t even get me started! On top of all that, bridges offer no suitable storage space for research notes, photocopies, and books. In short, they suck as accommodations. As for the borrowing, my parents taught Eva and me that debt must be avoided at all costs. Their “debt is bad” precept proved stronger than the knowledge that everyone lives on credit in Western societies today. Except my parents, that is. Then again, they live in rural Alsace. Life’s a lot cheaper there than in la capitale, so they were able to make it into their fifties without a single loan to cloud their horizon. My phone rings as I step off the elevator on the second floor, relieved that no one saw me in Top Management’s heavenly quarters. Considering that I’ve been sneaking out like this for two months already, the probability that someone will see me and that it’ll reach Pauline’s ears is growing by the day. And it freaks me out more than I care to admit. As I answer the phone, Raphael’s deep, sexy timbre breaks me from my worries. “You left your panties here,” he says, sounding amused and smug at the same time. In short, his usual self. “No, I didn’t—” Oh crap. I did. “I got five minutes before the managerial,” he says, “so if you want to come back and collect—” “No!” I look around and lower my voice, “It’s OK. I’m sure I can make it through the afternoon without them.” “Oh, I don’t doubt that. The question is whether I can make it through the afternoon with the knowledge you’re without them.” He pauses, as if pondering the question and then adds, “And with them in my pocket.” My stomach flips. Something achingly—yet delightfully—heavy gathers in my low abdomen, reminding me of what Raphael and I were up to a mere half hour ago. Suddenly, every step I take makes me aware of my pantyless condition. The friction of my skirt’s silky lining against my bare skin makes it prickle. My breathing becomes strained, and my heart thumps in my chest. As I struggle to calm myself before entering the office I share with two other assistants, I picture myself in Strasbourg in our family physician’s immaculate office. “What’s my diagnosis, doctor?” I’d ask after he’s examined me. “Not to worry, mon petit! You’ll live.” He’d push his regular glasses to his forehead and put on his reading glasses. “You have a textbook case of lustium irresistiblum.” “Please, can you make it go away?” He’d smile and shake his head, updating my file on his computer. “It’s like a viral cold, mon petit. It’ll clear up on it’s own, eventually.” And that, my friends, is the second clue to the mystery of how I got here. It appears I have caught a virulent strain of lustium irresistiblum for lady-killer Raphael d’Arcy. And with my luck, we’ll likely get caught before it clears. “Got to go,” I whisper into the phone and hang up. I take a few long breaths to chase my arousal away before I enter the office. Easier said than done. The things Raphael says, the things he does to me… They don’t just excite—they break into my brain and muddle it up on a deep, molecular level. Throwing ethical norms against that kind of invasion has been as effective as attempting to shoot down the Death Star with foam darts. But I’ll keep on trying. Till the bitter end.
Alix Nichols is an unapologetic caffeine addict and a longtime fan of Mr. Darcy, especially in his Colin Firth incarnation. She is a Kindle Scout and Dante Rossetti Award winning author of critically acclaimed romantic comedies.
At the age of six, she released her first rom com. It featured highly creative spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper. Decades later, she still loves the romance genre. Her spelling has improved (somewhat), and her books have made Amazon bestseller lists, climbing as high as #1. She lives in France with her family and their almost-human dog. For exclusive content, giveaways and special offers, including a bonus book, subscribe to the monthly newsletter on her author website: www.alixnichols.com Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
One Sexy Mistake
Sarah Ballance The Chase Brothers #5 (Novella) Lovestruck
Olivia Patton’s life just imploded. One night with sexy hacker Grady Donovan seems like the perfect, ego-soothing plan—until an epic snowstorm shuts down the city and thwarts her morning-after escape. Now the only walk-of-shame she'll be taking is right back to Grady's door.
Forced to actually talk, Grady and Olivia realize they can't stand each other. Forget another round in the bedroom—if it wasn't his apartment, she'd shove Grady outside to freeze. But with all the blistering sexual tension flying around, a second night with the hacker might be exactly what she needs...if they don't kill each other first. Each book in the Chase Brothers series is a standalone, full-length story that can be enjoyed out of order. Series Order: Book #1 Five Things I Love About You Book #2 For Seven Nights Only Book #3 The Three Week Arrangement Book #4 The 48 Hour Hook Up Book #5 One Sexy Mistake Chapter One Grady Donovan sucked at this hookup thing. It was 11:00 p.m., he was bored and horny, and most of his previous...assignations with women—whether a friend with benefits or an actual attempt at a relationship—had ended in way too much drama for his taste. After years of careful analysis, he’d come to the conclusion that he wasn’t built for relationships. But a one-nighter? That he could do. With bells on. If she was into that. The trick was finding a woman who was on the same page emotionally. Tinder had a reputation as a “hookup app.” So Tinder it was. Tinder PC, because he was not having a one-night stand with someone without viewing a photo bigger than a postage stamp. After hours of agonizing over how to best describe himself on his bio, adding and deleting gems like please leave before breakfast and conversation not included, he’d finally nailed it: Frighteningly intelligent single male. Computer geek. No interest in romance but great in the sack. No relationships, please. Accurate? Definitely. Odds of snagging interest? Nil, in his experience. But, he figured, don’t ask and ye shall not receive. Needless to say, he hadn’t expected a response. Especially not the one that came through ten minutes later, prompting the mother of all double takes. Olivia’s profile picture was too good to be true. So was the rest of her. Especially her bio. Hacker girl with a broken heart looking for a boy toy to make it all better. One night, no strings. I get to leave first. Two-minute wonders need not apply. The irony was strong. As long as she followed through and actually left without asking for his hand in marriage, she was everything he could possibly want in a woman. Scratch that. She was all he could want from a night. One night. A beautiful woman who wanted to leave first. He watched the screen, expecting her to disappear. He was no hardship to look at, but he’d said no romance or relationship, which left him floored that anyone would respond. Let alone an anyone who was on the same, admittedly unconventional, page. Unless it was a trick. Suspicion probably shouldn’t have been his first reaction to seeing the incredibly sexy photo pop up on the screen, but with a prank-happy extended family like his—all courtesy of his four brothers-in-law—being trolled was a distinct possibility. Even via a random hookup app. A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he realized he was doing this wrong. People were supposed to be all over these connections. Swipe right, get laid, problem solved. Still there? she typed. Because if that two-minute thing is a deal-breaker, I need to know. At which point I may mock you. Mercilessly. Grady stared at the newly arrived message, thinking the threat of mockery was the best excuse he’d ever have to bail. But this was also probably his best chance to score. Looking at Olivia’s picture, he really didn’t want to give up on the chance. He couldn’t believe his luck. Rich, wavy brown hair tumbled past her shoulders. Eyes sparkled in the same hue. She glowed. She was definitely too good to be true. I can guarantee at least three minutes, he wrote, then sat back. There was no good reason a woman like her would need an app, unless it was because she was tired of being hit on for being gorgeous. Which, frankly, he’d believe. For the first time in pretty much ever, he wished for more personal communication. A new message popped up. So what do you have against relationships? He hesitated over a response. I don’t care for the drama, he typed. Or the rituals. Or the expectations. Ah, she replied. A girl gets three minutes one night and wants four the next. Something like that. Actually, it was a lot like that. At one time, he hadn’t hated the idea of a relationship. In fact, all he’d ever wanted was for someone to accept him for who he was, which sounded like a schmaltzy spiel of bullshit, but it was true. He enjoyed going out every now and then, and he’d hold a woman’s purse at the mall if he had to. But having to out-do every other couple on Facebook or Instagram or whatever social media platform was the rage at the moment burned him out. Permanently. If being in his own goddamned relationship meant he had to compete with everyone else’s, then he’d be just fine alone. Except for one teeny caveat. Sex. What about you? he asked. Not buying that you can’t get a date. I don’t want a date. I want sex. Well, okay then. You could get that from anyone, he responded. Why me? You’re a mile away. It’s snowing. You keep impossible standards, he typed back. And you’re hot, and straightforward. And you did promise great sex. Anyone can promise that, he noted. Actually, she replied, I’m pretty sure no self-professed computer geek has ever promised great sex. He rolled his eyes. And here I was thinking the self-professed hacker would appreciate my skills. I plan to, she said. For the entire three minutes. Well, hell. This was the part where he should promise her a few hours, but if she looked anything like her picture, he’d be better off promising her a few rounds. And he could only pray the first one lasted three minutes. He pulled up her profile again, still suspicious. There wasn’t much there, so the repeated glances were futile. You don’t seem worried about hooking up with someone you’ve never met, he typed. Are you crazy or just adventurous? Her answer was immediate. Do you want to find out? Did he? That was why he was online, though he certainly never expected he’d find anyone like her. She was too perfect—not just physically attractive but also in a field of work closely tied to his own, if there was any truth to the “hacker girl” statement in her bio. While he didn’t need to have anything in common with Olivia, if they actually had a conversation—versus creepily not speaking at all—there was something to be said for shared interests. He’d had plenty of dates with women who lectured him about how boring computers were, that he should get out and live a little. These were, of course, the same women who couldn’t peel their eyes from their smartphones, but that point was seldom appreciated when he voiced it. But it probably didn’t matter. People didn’t use hookup sites in search of sparkling conversation. Especially not him. He caught himself looking over his shoulder, half-expecting to catch one of his brothers-in-law doubled over in laughter on the fire escape. Instead, he got an eyeful of the neighbor’s yellow-eyed, helter-skelter-faced, crooked-fanged mini-wildebeest the old woman called a cat. And yes, he jumped. Then he swore. That thing should be in a zoo. Or a freak show. Behind the questionably feline façade, snow fell. Grady had no idea why that woman let the cat out in this kind of weather, but he wasn’t inclined to let the thing freeze. Even if it was the ugliest, creepiest excuse for a cat he’d ever seen. Unfortunately, Mrs. Harmon had a habit of smacking him with her purse when her precious Mortimer found his way into Grady’s apartment, which made him wary of rescuing the cat, at least immediately. He glanced back at his computer. The cursor blinked, and he realized there might very well be an actual woman on the other end, waiting. If there was any chance she was legit, he was in. Way in. He typed his next message and hit send before he could second guess the insanity of meeting a stranger for sex. Your place or mine? ***
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Sarah and her husband of what he calls “many long, long years” live on the mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they’re asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a homeschooling mom, she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. As it turns out, her characters aren’t much better than the kids, but nevertheless, you’ll find her writing sexy contemporary romance for Entangled Publishing until they throw her out. To learn more, visit http://sarahballance.com.
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