Release Blitz: Alee

Book Details:

Alee 
by Nicole Loufas 
Publication date: November 19th 2019
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Young Adult

Synopsis:

With just weeks left before her high school graduation, Alee dumps with her sunshine stealing boyfriend in epic fashion – by sleeping with his best friend.

Since bad things happen in three, becoming the school slut is just the beginning.

A mass shooting steals the life of Alee’s Olympic-bound best friend and a homeless drug addict turns out to be the father who abandoned Alee as a child.

With a backpack full of daddy-issues and a bucket list of broken dreams, Alee searches for light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

Will the man who broke her, be the one who saves her life?Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/47965235-alee
Purchase:Amazon: https://books2read.com/u/bPRgpJ?store=amazon

Excerpts

Funeral food is like every other party food. Pinwheel sandwiches, mini-meatballs in a brown sauce, wilted salad, and an assortment of cheese and crackers. Laine plucks a cucumber from the tray. He dips it in ranch then shoves it in his mouth with an inappropriately timed sexy smile.

“Bryn hates baby carrots. She said there was something unnatural about them.”

“Toss them.” Laine points to the trash receptacle. “She’s right, they look like fat little baby fingers.” He inspects a dried out digit shaped carrot.

I pick up the tray and carry it to the trash. “This is for Bryn.” The carrots make a raucous as they spill into the bin. A few people glance my way, not for long. Too much eye contact and they’ll have to acknowledge me, speak me, console me.

Laine tosses his carrot in from a few feet away. “Bryn for the win.” He holds pose a few seconds the way Steph Curry does when he hits a three.

We return to the buffet where Frances is speaking to Bryn’s English teacher. She was an honor student so we never had classes together.

“Bryn was smart,” I tell Laine because he’s the only one here who will listen. “She had a 4.0 for, like, ever.”

I remember watching her study, wondering where all that information went. She was like a sponge, absorbing everything around her. Bryn immersed herself in life. She was always moving, always busy with practice of some kind, volunteering, studying, me. I was a project too. She tried like hell to get me involved, get me out of my shell. My spirit animal is a crab; shells are my thing.

Laine and I move to the stage on the other side of the room. A bunch of unattended kids run back and forth squealing like baby pigs. Laine knows a couple of them. They jump on him as soon as he sits down and beg for piggyback rides. He obliges. Laine is a nice guy. I like Laine. That’s probably why I fucked him.

“Are any of these yours?” It’s a joke, but you never know. “That one kind of has your eyes.” I point to the little girl clinging to his back. He gently lets her down and she runs off.

“I volunteer at an after-school program at the rec. At first, it was just something to add to my college applications, but I liked it so I stayed.”

“You really are a good guy, aren’t you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I owe you an apology, for that day. For sucking you into my shit show. You didn’t deserve that.”

His shoulder leans into mine. “No apology necessary. Honestly, I could tell you and Benny weren’t gonna make it.” Laine is Benny’s best friend, he knows all about Benny’s side chicks. Maybe that’s why he did it. I wonder if Bryn knew it too.

***ANOTHER ONE***

I happen upon Hawk as he is dragging a black trash bag into the laundry mat on Valencia. I offer to buy him breakfast, but he opts for a coffee and bagel from the corner store instead. Hawk seems distant lately, like meeting me is an inconvenience. He’s the one who bailed on his family, the least he can do is pretend I matter, that I’m more important than laundry day.

“Do you always wash your clothes on Monday?”

“I wash when washing is necessary.”

There are so many responses to that statement. Like could’ve fooled me or if that were true you wouldn’t smell like the dumpster behind the taqueria.

“I have a pair of jeans that I’ve never washed. I just Febreze them every now and then.” Sometimes I say things to find commonality with Hawk. I usually just come off sounding like an idiot.

Hawk nods like he uses Febreze all the time. For him to buy a bottle of air freshener is a frivolous splurge, sort of like how I feel about meth.

Hawk washes his clothes in hot water, rinses in cold, and adds fabric softener to the rinse cycle. Homeless people use fabric softener—who knew? I say little the entire time his clothes are laundering. We’ve been meeting long enough for me to know when Hawk doesn’t feel like making small talk.

After the laundromat, we walk down Valencia towards the freeway. The stench of the place hits me before I see it. The homeless encampment is huge and sits under the freeway on Division Street. It’s only a matter of time before the cops make a sweep. Hawk says it can happen day or night. When they come, he only has a few minutes to get his things and run. He considers himself lucky. He has only lost everything he’s ever owned twice—the day he left his family and the day he left Portland. He equates losing a shopping cart in a police raid to abandoning his family. It’s nice to know I mean as much to him as a piss and shit-stained sleeping bag.

“Why do you want to live like this?” We walk past rows of dirty tents and carts stacked with cardboard and cans. I’m met with cautious glares, while my father is greeted with love and respect. The world is upside down in this place. My Old Navy coat is too new, my hands and nails too clean. In this camp, people are judged by their scars. Just because I don’t cloak mine in dirt or flaunt them with booze and drugs doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

****ONE MORE***

Here’s the thing about living in the city: you run into the same people all the time even when you go out of your way to avoid them. I’m planted in the corner of the tea shop devouring a slice of cheesecake when Laine walks in. Apparently, I’m avoiding Starbucks for nothing. He orders a drink then walks right over to me.

“Since when do you drink tea?”

“So you are avoiding me.” He sets his mug on the table and sits in the chair across from me.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“I saw you leaving Cala Foods on Tuesday. I called your name and you literally ran from me.”

“You saw that?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss a girl sprinting down Noe Street carrying a gallon of milk in one hand and a twenty-four pack of toilet paper in the other.”

“When you gotta go…” Insinuating I had to take a monster shit in front of a boy should make me want to puke. Laine isn’t that kind of boy. Though, today especially, he doesn’t look boyish. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“I had a job interview.”

“That’s very grown-up. Where?”

“My dad works for the city. He scored me an interview with his department. The waitlist is a mile long, but fingers crossed.”

I cross my fingers for him.

“What about you?”

“I’m officially a high school graduate.” I pull a folded envelope from Bryn’s tote bag and hand it to Laine. He opens it and removes my crumpled diploma. He makes a disapproving face at my treatment of the document I’ve worked four years to earn. “What? It’s just a piece of paper.”

“I guess.” Laine sets it on the table. “Doesn’t your mom want to frame it or something?”

“I don’t have that kind of mom.” I fork my cheesecake. “Since you’re crashing my graduation party, here.” I offer him a bite.

Something sad fills Laine’s eyes. He accepts the cheesecake and washes it down with his tea. “We can do better than this.” He points to my plate. “Let’s get out here.”

Laine leaves his tea and we head outside. His hands are in the pockets of his dress pants. He looks like a stockbroker or a law student. He looks hot. I look around for an excuse to run. No stray dogs or bees in sight.

“I spent the last of my money on that cheesecake, so unless you received a signing bonus, I think this is where we call it a day.”

“My mom made lasagna last night and my old man won’t miss a few beers.” The idea feels innocent. It might be on Laine’s part. I was the school slut and sluts can’t be trusted.

“I don’t know. I told Bryn’s parents I would stay over.” I spend a few nights a week at their place. It makes them feel less alone.

“Really? That’s how you want to spend your Friday night? Watching the Hallmark channel?” I laugh at his accuracy. “Come on, Alee. My parents are working all night. Help me break some rules for once.”

When he puts it that way, how can I say no?

Funeral food is like every other party food. Pinwheel sandwiches, mini-meatballs in a brown sauce, wilted salad, and an assortment of cheese and crackers. Laine plucks a cucumber from the tray. He dips it in ranch then shoves it in his mouth with an inappropriately timed sexy smile.

“Bryn hates baby carrots. She said there was something unnatural about them.”

“Toss them.” Laine points to the trash receptacle. “She’s right, they look like fat little baby fingers.” He inspects a dried out digit shaped carrot.

I pick up the tray and carry it to the trash. “This is for Bryn.” The carrots make a raucous as they spill into the bin. A few people glance my way, not for long. Too much eye contact and they’ll have to acknowledge me, speak me, console me.

Laine tosses his carrot in from a few feet away. “Bryn for the win.” He holds pose a few seconds the way Steph Curry does when he hits a three.

We return to the buffet where Frances is speaking to Bryn’s English teacher. She was an honor student so we never had classes together.

“Bryn was smart,” I tell Laine because he’s the only one here who will listen. “She had a 4.0 for, like, ever.”

I remember watching her study, wondering where all that information went. She was like a sponge, absorbing everything around her. Bryn immersed herself in life. She was always moving, always busy with practice of some kind, volunteering, studying, me. I was a project too. She tried like hell to get me involved, get me out of my shell. My spirit animal is a crab; shells are my thing.

Laine and I move to the stage on the other side of the room. A bunch of unattended kids run back and forth squealing like baby pigs. Laine knows a couple of them. They jump on him as soon as he sits down and beg for piggyback rides. He obliges. Laine is a nice guy. I like Laine. That’s probably why I fucked him.

“Are any of these yours?” It’s a joke, but you never know. “That one kind of has your eyes.” I point to the little girl clinging to his back. He gently lets her down and she runs off.

“I volunteer at an after-school program at the rec. At first, it was just something to add to my college applications, but I liked it so I stayed.”

“You really are a good guy, aren’t you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I owe you an apology, for that day. For sucking you into my shit show. You didn’t deserve that.”

His shoulder leans into mine. “No apology necessary. Honestly, I could tell you and Benny weren’t gonna make it.” Laine is Benny’s best friend, he knows all about Benny’s side chicks. Maybe that’s why he did it. I wonder if Bryn knew it too.

***ANOTHER ONE***

I happen upon Hawk as he is dragging a black trash bag into the laundry mat on Valencia. I offer to buy him breakfast, but he opts for a coffee and bagel from the corner store instead. Hawk seems distant lately, like meeting me is an inconvenience. He’s the one who bailed on his family, the least he can do is pretend I matter, that I’m more important than laundry day.

“Do you always wash your clothes on Monday?”

“I wash when washing is necessary.”

There are so many responses to that statement. Like could’ve fooled me or if that were true you wouldn’t smell like the dumpster behind the taqueria.

“I have a pair of jeans that I’ve never washed. I just Febreze them every now and then.” Sometimes I say things to find commonality with Hawk. I usually just come off sounding like an idiot.

Hawk nods like he uses Febreze all the time. For him to buy a bottle of air freshener is a frivolous splurge, sort of like how I feel about meth.

Hawk washes his clothes in hot water, rinses in cold, and adds fabric softener to the rinse cycle. Homeless people use fabric softener—who knew? I say little the entire time his clothes are laundering. We’ve been meeting long enough for me to know when Hawk doesn’t feel like making small talk.

After the laundromat, we walk down Valencia towards the freeway. The stench of the place hits me before I see it. The homeless encampment is huge and sits under the freeway on Division Street. It’s only a matter of time before the cops make a sweep. Hawk says it can happen day or night. When they come, he only has a few minutes to get his things and run. He considers himself lucky. He has only lost everything he’s ever owned twice—the day he left his family and the day he left Portland. He equates losing a shopping cart in a police raid to abandoning his family. It’s nice to know I mean as much to him as a piss and shit-stained sleeping bag.

“Why do you want to live like this?” We walk past rows of dirty tents and carts stacked with cardboard and cans. I’m met with cautious glares, while my father is greeted with love and respect. The world is upside down in this place. My Old Navy coat is too new, my hands and nails too clean. In this camp, people are judged by their scars. Just because I don’t cloak mine in dirt or flaunt them with booze and drugs doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

****ONE MORE***

Here’s the thing about living in the city: you run into the same people all the time even when you go out of your way to avoid them. I’m planted in the corner of the tea shop devouring a slice of cheesecake when Laine walks in. Apparently, I’m avoiding Starbucks for nothing. He orders a drink then walks right over to me.

“Since when do you drink tea?”

“So you are avoiding me.” He sets his mug on the table and sits in the chair across from me.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“I saw you leaving Cala Foods on Tuesday. I called your name and you literally ran from me.”

“You saw that?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss a girl sprinting down Noe Street carrying a gallon of milk in one hand and a twenty-four pack of toilet paper in the other.”

“When you gotta go…” Insinuating I had to take a monster shit in front of a boy should make me want to puke. Laine isn’t that kind of boy. Though, today especially, he doesn’t look boyish. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“I had a job interview.”

“That’s very grown-up. Where?”

“My dad works for the city. He scored me an interview with his department. The waitlist is a mile long, but fingers crossed.”

I cross my fingers for him.

“What about you?”

“I’m officially a high school graduate.” I pull a folded envelope from Bryn’s tote bag and hand it to Laine. He opens it and removes my crumpled diploma. He makes a disapproving face at my treatment of the document I’ve worked four years to earn. “What? It’s just a piece of paper.”

“I guess.” Laine sets it on the table. “Doesn’t your mom want to frame it or something?”

“I don’t have that kind of mom.” I fork my cheesecake. “Since you’re crashing my graduation party, here.” I offer him a bite.

Something sad fills Laine’s eyes. He accepts the cheesecake and washes it down with his tea. “We can do better than this.” He points to my plate. “Let’s get out here.”

Laine leaves his tea and we head outside. His hands are in the pockets of his dress pants. He looks like a stockbroker or a law student. He looks hot. I look around for an excuse to run. No stray dogs or bees in sight.

“I spent the last of my money on that cheesecake, so unless you received a signing bonus, I think this is where we call it a day.”

“My mom made lasagna last night and my old man won’t miss a few beers.” The idea feels innocent. It might be on Laine’s part. I was the school slut and sluts can’t be trusted.

“I don’t know. I told Bryn’s parents I would stay over.” I spend a few nights a week at their place. It makes them feel less alone.

“Really? That’s how you want to spend your Friday night? Watching the Hallmark channel?” I laugh at his accuracy. “Come on, Alee. My parents are working all night. Help me break some rules for once.”

When he puts it that way, how can I say no?

AUTHOR BIO:

Nicole was born and raised in California. She claims to be a San Francisco native, however she’s lived in both Northern and Southern California. She credits her creativity to the fact that she attended 12 schools between kindergarten and her senior year in high school. Her nomadic childhood allowed her to reinvent herself often. Some might say she was a liar. While others see the stories she told as a coping mechanism. Twelve schools, in six cities, in twelve years – give her a break. Today she channels her storytelling ability into writing novels. Long story short – kids that lie become writers.
Author

Links: https://nicoleloufas.com/

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/https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14358647.Nicole_Loufas

Release blitz: Pinky Promises by Deana Birch

Book Details:
Pinky Promises  by Deana Birch 
Publication date: November 18th, 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

When her long-distance teaching buddy goes on maternity leave, New York City native Leyla Harraq, temporarily transplants to a sleepy beach town on the West Coast to manage her friend’s Hot Yoga studio. But the yogini’s brash spunk leads to an immediate social gaffe when she insults her new landlord, carpenter Adam Fields, and must backpedal to save face.

Watching her hottie landlord wallow in solitary confinement after a brutal break-up will never do. Motivated by her own need for physical contact, Leyla happily offers herself as the perfect rebound. She’ll be gone in a couple of months, no one has to know, and she can wipe his ex right out of his mind… and body. After all, if anyone knows how to turn up the heat, it’s her.

But when the studio owner realizes she can’t return to teaching full-time and asks Leyla to stay, the fish-out-of-water must make a choice. Can she abandon her commitment-free lifestyle for small town drama and a chance at love with a hunky hammer wielding man?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46137612-pinky-promises

Purchase:

Amazon: https://books2read.com/u/4Axr8K?store=amazon

Excerpt

She bent over. Again. And I stared. Again. And possibly drooled. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been dating my girlfriend for ten years and never once thought of another girl in a totally inappropriate and downright lusty way.

            Plus, I was her damn landlord. There had to be some kind of weird power thing making my dirty mind even worse. When the hell had I turned into Creepy McGoogly-Eyes? I shook my head like a confused dog and headed through my glass door into the open kitchen.

            “Chicken okay for you?” I asked over my shoulder. That was the other thing. Why had I asked her to dinner? Maybe it was because I couldn’t figure her out. New York sass one minute and stupefaction the next. Yeah, that was it. Not her bendy little butt, coal-black hair or insanely charming accent.

            “Chicken is perfect. Thank you so much for your hospitality; I really didn’t expect it.” Leyla’s soft smile revealed a small dimple in her chin. She tapped the counter a couple of times and surveyed the room before meeting me at the fridge. “What can I do to help?”

            Damn, she was short. She didn’t even have to hunch down to look in at the shelves. And I didn’t fail to notice her offer. Whenever Holly came over, which was most nights when she wasn’t traveling for work, she would find excuse after excuse not to chip in. Either she’d just gotten her nails done or was too tired or would just blink and say, “I do love it when you spoil me, babe. You don’t mind if I chill, work was a bitch.” It had just seemed like something I’d accepted in our relationship. I’d often wondered how much she would do if we ever had kids. And if I was honest, it was one of the things holding me back from buying a ring.

            “Give me something to chop.” Leyla held open her hands. “Or I can just rummage around and make a salad out of whatever I find.”

            I pulled out the marinated chicken breast from the bottom drawer and met her olive eyes on the way back to standing. “Go for it. There’s a head of lettuce and vegetables in the second drawer. You want a beer?”

            “You trying to get me drunk?” A small, sarcastic snarl wrinkled her face.

I yanked my head back, and she cringed.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Oh, Christ, now I said fuck. And Christ. I’m so sorry.” Rapid blinks were followed by one long one and a sharp exhale from her nose. “I think I have a little bit of fish-out-of-water syndrome. I’m sorry if I offended you with my language or implied…”

She really was quite the little pickle. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Maybe it will help me stop committing social faux pas. A beer would be great, thanks.” Leyla pulled out two red peppers and an onion and set them on the counter. I stepped out of the doorway, opened the cooler, grabbed a longneck, and wiped the ice water it dripped onto a nearby dish towel.

A quick hiss escaped the bottle as I twisted the cap and brought it back to the kitchen. I slid the beer across the counter, where Leyla was already busy chopping vegetables.

“Just for the record, I don’t consider the swearing a problem. The gawker comment, yes,” I deadpanned.

Her face fell as she reached for the beer. The bottle hovered below her lips and her eyes went wide. “I—”

“Relax. I’m fucking with you.” And dear God, it was more fun than I’d had in a long time. She was easier to wind up than a toy from the dollar store.

She set the beer down and crossed her arms. Her eyes narrowed, but a glimmer of something, maybe mischief, betrayed what she probably wanted to read as anger.

“You were kinda staring at my ass.”

Her ass was kinda staring back as far as I was concerned, sending all kinds of voodoo messages that had somehow convinced me to check it out every chance I got. But no way was I confessing to that.

“Sorry. But no. I told you. I was just trying to figure out how you’d made yourself into a human pretzel.” Human pretzel in ridiculously revealing shorts.

Her slightly pouty lips plumped out and Leyla rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Mr. My Girlfriend is in Vegas.” She turned back to the vegetables, took a swig of the beer, and went back to work.

AUTHOR BIO:

Born and raised in the Midwest, Contemporary Romance and Erotica writer, Deana Birch, now lives with her family in Europe. She can be found teaching yoga, ruining her children’s French homework, cleaning up dog vomit, writing her next book, or reading someone else’s.
Author links: https://amzn.to/2KmPgKh

https://www.facebook.com/deana.birch.14

https://twitter.com/DeanaBirch

https://www.instagram.com/deanabirch/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18011203.Deana_Birch

https://deanabirch.com/

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Blog Tour: Sirens in Bliss by Lexi Blake writing as Sophie Oak

What happens after happily ever after?

Sirens in Bliss, a steamy new romance in the Nights in Bliss, Colorado Series from New York Times bestselling author Lexi Blake writing as Sophie Oak, is available now!

It’s the event of the year. The wedding of Leo and Wolf to their beautiful sub, Shelley McNamara, has all of Bliss up in arms—and makes everyone think about love and marriage and family.

Wolf and Leo have to deal with the sudden reappearance of their father. Rafe Kincaid is handed an opportunity that might take him and his family away from Bliss. Aidan, Lexi, and Lucas O’Malley find themselves at a crossroads in their marriage. And Stefan Talbot must face his biggest fear—possibly losing his wife in childbirth.

So come to the Feed Store Church, pick a seat, and enjoy the chaos as all your favorite characters from Texas Sirens and Nights in Bliss, Colorado, come together for one eventful weekend.

And some of them may never be the same again.

Note: This is a reunion book, which shares an overall story arc and many crossover characters with the Texas Sirens and Nights in Bliss series. This is not a stand-alone.

Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2NFkwGJ

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2LimgTw

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/SirensinBliss

Nook: http://bit.ly/2LkQa9B

Kobo: http://bit.ly/30NPobF

Google Play: http://bit.ly/32mFv51

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/32gbyUn

Excerpt

Shelley turned her head, looking between them both. “You know I thought it was weird that neither one of you looks a thing like your father.”

Wolf shrugged. He was happy about that. “Guess we took after Ma’s side.”

“Nope. I spent the afternoon looking through pictures of Cassidy’s family while we played with beets. They’re all small. She said Robert’s people were, too.”

Leo sighed. “We’re not aliens, Shell.”

Oh, god, had his mother gotten to her? “No alien DNA here.”

She shrugged, a teasing smile on her lips. “I don’t know. You seem smarter and faster and more agile than the normal human. And hey, I wouldn’t mind if my kids got an edge because their dads had some freaky genetics.”

She laughed and threw her arms around Leo, kissing him soundly. She turned and gave Wolf the same treatment. 

He could actually see several play scenarios where being half-alien might be fun. 

“Hey, I have about thirty minutes before I have to drink beet juice. Why don’t we have one last crazy fling before we’re boring old married people?” Shelley asked, a glint in her eye.

Wolf knew just the place. “There’s a big closet where Zane keeps the dry goods.”

He started to lead them back, finding the door and hauling them all in. He shut the door and turned on the small light. Thank god Lucy, Zane’s waitress, was as obsessively, compulsively clean as his brother. The storage room was pin neat and had enough space for what he needed to do. 

“Shouldn’t we turn the lights off?” Shelley asked. 

Leo stared at her. “Shouldn’t you take your clothes off?”

Yep, he was already in Dom mode. That was plain to see. “Hurry, baby. He’ll spend all his time spanking you and then we won’t get to the part where I feel some small amount of relief for my aching dick.”

It was only the truth. He’d been hard for days. Well, the whole sweat lodge thing had actually been a blessing since his cock had shriveled up at the thought of being alone in a sweaty, naked place with his brother and de facto stepfather, and his stepfather had been talking sex. It had been damn funny until he got a picture of it in his head. He was actually happy now that he was hard again. For a couple of minutes, he thought his cock might be dead. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Shelley pulled the tie on her wrap dress and was handing it to Leo in no time at all. Her gorgeous curves were on full display in a sexy black bra and some killer heels. No panties. His girl had learned that lesson long ago. 

Leo sighed, his hand covering her shoulders and sliding down to her breasts. “Do you have any idea how much we’ve missed these breasts?”

Wolf flicked the back clasp of her bra because the situation was far too desperate for a ton of playtime. His brother liked to warm up, but Wolf was already on fire. “We sat around drinking beer last night and moaning about how long it had been since we’ve seen you naked, baby.”

A shake in Leo’s voice gave away the fact that he was on edge, too. “It’s been eight days, thirteen hours, and twenty-four minutes.”

Her head fell back against Wolf’s shoulder as she laughed. “Well, you two certainly know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

About Lexi Blake

New York 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 that she found success. She likes to find humor in the strangest places. Lexi believes in happy endings no matter how odd the couple, threesome or foursome may seem.

Connect with Lexi

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

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Website: http://www.lexiblake.net/

Blog Tour: No Whisk, No Reward by Ellie Kay

No Whisk, No Reward, an all new romantic comedy with twists and turns from Ellie Kay, is  available now!

How do you know if a risk is worth taking? If you knew, there wouldn’t be any risk.

Following a disastrous appearance on a televised baking show, Sophie Copeland is certain things can’t get any worse. Several calamities later, Sophie finds herself in Green Valley, Tennessee with no plan, no place to stay, and no prospects. But at least she has a temporary seasonal arrangement with the famed Donner Bakery. And that’s something, right?

It’s not permanent, and it’s not a home, but it’s still something.

Enter Joel Barnes, a Green Valley mystery, wrapped in rumors, and a whispered connection to the local notorious biker gang. Joel’s got a name for being bad news, but he also has an apartment for rent.

Intrigued by the dichotomy of Joel’s reputation and sexy southern pull, Sophie can’t help but be tempted, even though she knows—given her (bad) luck—she should stay far, far away. . .

Yet as everyone knows, without risk, there’s no reward.

‘No Whisk, No Reward’ is a full-length contemporary romantic comedy, can be read as a standalone, and is book#3 in the Donner Bakery series, Green Valley World, Penny Reid Book Universe.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/31zMc3a

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/NWNR

Amazon Print: https://amzn.to/2lCqhZJ

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2lyEQ0z

Excerpt

That’s when I saw Joel sitting alone in a booth by a large window, eating a sandwich, and reading a newspaper.

Oh. Hello, conflicted feelings. You’re looking extra conflicting today. Did you do something with your hair?

His gorgeous brown hair was a mess and the sleeves of his gray shirt were pushed up revealing his forearms which looked even thicker than I remembered them being, as he worked to fold the gigantic pages of the newspaper into neat manageable folds.

This man was seriously hotter than a melting ice-cream analogy.

And also, possibly involved with a crime organization! I reminded myself as I continued to stand uselessly trying to find somewhere to sit.

I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to smile at the indelicate way he shoved the corner of his sandwich into his mouth and then proceeded to chew as though it might try to escape.

He picked up his coffee and was mid-sip when his eyes rose up from the rim of his cup and saw me standing by the entrance staring at him.

Busted.

“Take a seat wherever you can find one, hon, I’ll be along shortly to take your order,” a lady with a nameplate that read Janice, instructed me as she hurried by with a tray of coffee and doughnuts.

I looked back over at Joel who was watching me and gestured to the empty seat across from his.

My mind immediately went to Joy and Tempest’s reaction when they found out he was my landlord, but I quickly reminded myself that he’d done nothing to warrant any rudeness on my part.

Despite their apprehension, I figured this was a good opportunity to try and get more insight into whether I thought their response carried any weight.

Plus, I really needed coffee.

I made my way over, feeling his eyes on me as I crisscrossed around tables while trying to be ever vigilant of any sudden movements from other patrons.

My good sense will not be thwarted by your blue-green eyes and frowny brows, you magnificent biker beast.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted in a smooth as hot honey drawl. I was glad that I was already halfway into the seat because I felt my knees completely give out.

Traitor knees.

My armor of detachedness was not as hefty as I’d hoped.

“Taking a break from work?” I inquired, proud of my cool, even tone.

“Yep, just grabbing something to eat. You?”

“I’m done for today,” I replied reaching for a menu and unfolding it as though it were just as informative as his newspaper.

“Nice. Got any plans?”

“Not really, I was going to check out the bookstore downstairs, but that’s about—”

I was interrupted by the feeling of fingers gently stroking my cheek and looked up to find him reaching across the table, his eyes focused on a spot as he gently swiped at something on my face.

“Sorry, you got flour or something on your cheek it was driving me crazy,” he said before pulling away and leaning back coolly against his seat.

I’m gonna get thwarted, aren’t I?

About Ellie Kay

Ellie Kay is an Australian born living in Vancouver, British Columbia Canada who honed her creative writing skills in the colorful, and imaginative world of Corporate Insurance.

Socially awkward, she loves to respond to theatre ticket vendors who say, “enjoy the movie” with, “Thanks, you too,”, but she also likes to cook, travel and spend time with her partner and cat Taako.

Ellie is on a mission to help change the stigma surrounding the Romance genre and hopes to see a day when they are no longer considered “guilty pleasures,” but rather, just a pleasure.

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Blog Tour: My Bare Lady by Piper Sheldon

My Bare Lady, a funny and heartwarming romantic comedy standalone from Piper Sheldon and Smartypants Romance is available now!

Suzie Samuels is the only thing standing between Clifford and his life’s work. All he has to do is change everything about her. Perception creates reality and Clifford Rutledge needs the irascible stripper to prove it.

Suzie Samuels is set to prove once and for all she’s more than Short Fuse Suze, stripper for the Black Demons and renowned motorcycle arsonist. If all it takes is hard work, then Suzie knows how to work it hard.

But Suzie’s scandalous spirit tests Clifford’s resolve. And Clifford’s buttoned-up bullying is driving Suzie bonkers.

Can Clifford move past their differences long enough to pull off the impossible task of changing the bare lady into a fair lady?

More importantly, as perceptions shift and priorities change, will he want to?

‘My Bare Lady’ is a full-length contemporary romantic comedy, can be read as a standalone, and is book #1 in the Scorned Women’s Society series, Green Valley World, Penny Reid Book Universe.

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Excerpt

I was transfixed. It wasn’t just the way she mastered the room. It wasn’t just how her choreography perfectly correlated with the entrancing music. It wasn’t just her sex appeal. It was that unwavering gaze and focus on her task. To the rest of the room, staring blatantly at her admirable—ahem—assets, she was an object, but I recognized the barely controlled passion roiling under her skin. What would it be like to be that strong? Not just physically, but strong in a way that allowed her to bare her soul to a group of greedy strangers. My passions were locked away safely inside me and yet she put it all out there. Such bravery and passion.

In certain moments, I swear she looked right at me—quick stolen glances that shot a bolt of adrenaline down my spine. Perhaps this was a skill she learned to earn more tips, as the money was out in droves now, peppered over the stage and her sweating skin. But I swore she saw me. Saw through me. To the things I didn’t want seen. I stepped back further into the darkness knowing my concerns were irrational but unable to tear my eyes off hers. I was stronger than this. I was thoughtful, pragmatic, and not a victim of animalistic natures and poetic fantasies.

Though she occasionally snapped the thin strips of material that made up her outfit in a playful tease she never took any clothes off. She didn’t need to. She’d managed to capture the attention of every person in that room with her movements alone.

My body reacted despite my rationale; heart pounding, skin aflame. I needed to leave. I wouldn’t be like the rest of these people.

The song crescendoed and in a show of strength, she launched herself back to the top of the pole once again. A small gasp escaped from me but the music drowned out all noise. She performed a trick that made her appear to fall down the entire length of the pole, tumbling over and sideways, limb over limb, only to catch herself at the bottom using only her thighs. She hung upside down, panting, dark hair sprawled out around her and her gaze set on me. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald, unlike any color I’d ever seen. They were luminescent in the stage lighting. Even across the hazy bar, they were transcendent. Glowing. Fixated on me.

Nobody else.

I swallowed but it wasn’t easy. The song ended and the lights went out. The crowd went wild. Several moments passed before I gained control of my faculties again. With that control came the shame of watching her. The understanding that just seeing her perform was enough to make me forget who I was. That couldn’t happen.

I got out of there as fast as I could. The entire drive back to Knoxville my chest heaved at an alarming rate; my body remained a mass of tension. Her hypnotic gaze flashed repeatedly in my vision no matter how often I tried to shake it loose.

Thankfully, I’d never see her again.

About Piper Sheldon

Piper Sheldon writes Contemporary Romance and Magical Realism books that hope to be New York Times bestsellers when they grow up. For now, she works as a technical writer during the day and writes about love the rest of the time. Of course she also makes room for her husband, toddler, and two needy dogs at home in the Desert Southwest.

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Release Blitz: Iron Crowne by CD Reiss

“Beyond sexy, beyond stunning, and Byron Crowne is the alpha of the year!

Iron Crowne is CD Reiss at her potent, powerful best!”

—Sierra Simone, USA Today bestselling author

Iron Crowne, an all-new wickedly sexy and addicting enemies to lovers standalone from New York Times bestselling author CD Reiss, is available now!

Byron Crowne is a charming liar and a gorgeous monster.

I detest him.

I can’t resist him.

He’s awakened desires I didn’t know I had.

When he touches me, I need to fight him . . . and I need him to win.

Our one night stand bruises my skin and leaves dents in the walls, but the sheets aren’t the only thing we shred that night.

And suddenly, the stakes are higher than ever.

***

Olivia Monroe lights a fire in me that died a long time ago.

I’m a different man when I’m with her. I need to own her, take her, mark her as mine.

Everything changes when she might be pregnant and for the first time in my life . . . I’m powerless against this stubborn, untamable woman.

She’s the one in control and I have an impossible job:

Prove I’m worthy to be a father.

Download your copy today read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Narrated by: Elena Wolfe and Sebastian York

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About CD Reiss

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

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

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

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

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Blog Tour: Insatiable by Melanie Harlow

“Absolute magic!”

—Helena Hunting, New York Times bestselling author

Insatiable, an all-new fun and flirty friends to lovers romance from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available now!

I didn’t mean to see him naked–it was an accident.

It had to be, right?

Because Noah McCormick and I have never been anything more than friends. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never once laid a finger on me. And even though he was a cute lifeguard at 16 and a hotter-than-hell sheriff’s deputy at 34, he’s always been that protective guy I could trust to keep his hands to himself. I never wanted to mess with that.

Until I walked in on him getting out of the shower and saw his hard, muscular body totally bare and dripping wet. At that moment I never wanted to mess with anything so badly in my entire life.

I should have covered my eyes. Said I was sorry. At the very least, I could have handed him a towel.

After all, I was only in town for a few days, and he was just doing me a favor by escorting me to my sister’s wedding. It wasn’t a real date.

But I didn’t apologize. And he didn’t cover up.

(Talk about a hot mess.)

After all those years of being just friends, suddenly we’re insatiable.

He’s made it clear he’s not interested in romance. Which is fine with me because

I’ve got a plane ticket back to my real life at the end of the week.

It’s all in fun…or is it?

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt:

Sawyer?” I said in disbelief.

Breaking into a huge grin, she started to run.

I was still standing there in shock when she barreled into me, throwing her arms around my neck. She smelled fucking fantastic. Feminine, sweet, delectable.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to hug her back without getting sweat or paint on her. “I thought you didn’t get in until Thursday.”

“I changed my ticket.” She let go just enough to smile up at me impishly. “I’m glad to see you too.”

I laughed. “I’m glad to see you. You just surprised me is all.”

“That was my plan.” She stepped back, and I figured my odor was probably repulsing her.

“I stink, sorry. I went for a run earlier and I never showered. Then I painted the garage.”

“I never mind the smell of sweat. It means hard work.” She brightened. “Will you run tomorrow? I’d love to go with you.

“Sure. We can run tomorrow. I’m off again.”

“Great! Although I’m probably way out of shape.” She made a face. “My work schedule is so crazy, I don’t run as much as I used to.”

“You look great,” I told her. And it was true—she did look great. Maybe not quite as skinny as the last time I’d seen her, but the added curves looked good on her. My eyes wandered without my brain’s permission to her slightly fuller chest and rounder hips. Quickly, I attempted to look at her face again, but then my gaze lingered on her mouth. I remembered what it had looked like the other night in my fantasy as she’d wrapped her lips around my cock and moaned like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

My dick twitched beneath my running shorts, and I cleared my throat. “You’ve got a favorite murder? Is there something I need to know?”

She glanced down at her shirt and smiled. “It’s a podcast about true crime. I’m addicted.”

“Never heard of it.”

A sound of exasperation escaped her. “You live under a rock! I can’t believe you’re still not on social media.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Okay, I can, but it makes it really hard to stalk you.”

I shook my head. “People like you are exactly why I don’t want to be on social media.”

She hit me on the shoulder. “I’m kidding! I just want to keep up with your life. I miss you.”

“So come home more often. Talk to my face.”

She grinned. “I do like seeing your face. Want to go grab a beer? Maybe some food?”

“Sure.”

About Melanie

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, Succession, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the ONE & ONLY series, the AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

Connect with Melanie

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Cover Reveal – AND THEN ONE DAY by Samantha Chase

AND THEN ONE DAY

Author: Samantha Chase

Series: Magnolia Sound #4

Release Date: January 28, 2020

About the Book

Courtney Baker is ready to put small town life—and the man she can’t have—behind her. Years of secretly crushing on her best friend’s older brother have led nowhere and she’s finally ready to move on. It would have been a great plan had she not drunkenly blurted out all her feelings and kissed him. At least she’ll be able to forget all about it when she leaves town in less than 48 hours.

It takes a lot to surprise Dean Jones, but a kiss from the girl he’s been secretly attracted to for years does just that. All it takes it one kiss for him to realize he doesn’t want to let her go. But she’s his sister’s best friend and that’s a line he knows he should never cross. Never mind that she seems determined to leave their small town—and him—behind.

When a storm and a broken car stop Courtney from leaving town, Dean sees perfect opportunity to get her out of his system. But can one night ever be enough?

Goodreads: https://geni.us/OneDay-Goodreads

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About the Author

Samantha Chase is a New York Times and USA Today bestseller of contemporary romance. She released her debut novel in 2011 and currently has more than forty titles under her belt! When she’s not working on a new story, she spends her time reading romances, playing way too many games of Scrabble or Solitaire on Facebook, wearing a tiara while playing with her sassy pug Maylene…oh, and spending time with her husband of 25 years and their two sons in North Carolina.

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Release Blitz: The Billionaire’s Forbidden Little Sister by Max Monroe

Question: What do you do when you fall for your best friend’s little sister?

More important question: How long can you keep it a secret before it all goes up in flames?

The Billionaire’s Forbidden Little Sister, an all-new hot and hilarious brother’s best friend rom-com from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is available now!

Theo Cruz, a New York man known for his family’s billion-dollar empire, Cruz Enterprises, has been indicted this afternoon in the Court of Public Opinion on charges of Bro-Code Conspiracy.

Chief counsel for the prosecution, Caplin Hawkins, spoke candidly about the accusation.

“Once thought of as a best friend to many—including myself—Theo Cruz has officially turned his back on human decency. He’s conniving and dishonest, and a habitual offender of Bro-Code Law 676. He’ll rue the day he forgot that you never—under any circumstances—get involved with your best friend’s little sister.”

Fact: I haven’t actually been arrested or indicted.

More important fact: I inadvertently messed up—big-time.

Two strangers in a foreign country, we said hello.

Hello turned into a kiss.

A kiss turned into a rendezvous.

And a rendezvous turned into more than I’d ever imagined.

But her unruly golden curls and beautiful body hid an important detail—She’s my mouthiest billionaire best friend’s forbidden little sister.

Fact: I knew not of my crimes.

More important fact: I know now, but even though I know I’m playing with fire, there’s no way I’m stopping. I can’t leave her alone.

Question: What do you do when you fall for your best friend’s little sister?

More important question: How long can you keep it a secret before it all goes up in flames?

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt

Lena

            Two hours and another two shots for Pippa later and she’s in full-on dance mode. Shaking her hips and tits like she owns the joint. It only took one intense shimmy during “Gonna Make You Sweat” to understand what she meant—her boobs, left braless, would absolutely be a lethal weapon. I’m pretty sure the sweat between them even vaporized into a misty Mel Gibson mirage, they shook so hard.

            And not once has she wanted to stop for a break.

            She’s in the running to be the next Energizer bunny, but my bladder is full, and I’m dehydrated. For the love of God, I need something to drink other than Mel-flavored sweat mist and gasoline.

            Thankfully, when Pip spots Sophie and Frederick on the other side of the dance floor, she does some weird version of the robot, spins in their direction, and makes like the wind through the crowd while letting her arms trail behind her.

            It’s so fucking strange, it’s hilarious, and I can’t help but laugh.

            Sophie feels the same, covering her mouth comically as she spots Pippa. I wave my hand, hoping to get her attention, and by some miracle, she spots me through the strobing lights and writhing bodies.

            I jerk my chin and swipe a hand across my chest before tapping the skin next to my eye and doing the walking symbol with my fingers. Sophie nods, interpreting my baseball-esque code, regardless of its lackluster delivery. If I were on the other end of things, I’d be waffling between second and third base right now, trying to figure out what to do.

            “I’ve got her!” she whisper-yells toward me, and the weight of drunken-friend-motherhood lifts off me in a flash. I’m sure my friends with kids would tell me this is how they always feel when they actually make it to the bathroom.

            I didn’t think it was a possibility for a female living on planet Earth, but when I make it to the toilets—as the Italians call them—the line is short and speedy. I’m standing at the bar again, waiting on a bartender to take my order in under five minutes.

            Of course, the bar takes so long, I have to sit down on one of the stools to bide my time. And just like that, the timetable of the universe has been righted.

            While I wait, I glance back toward the dance floor to check on Pip, the dancing queen—who is now showing off her twerking skills to a cute twentysomething guy. If I had to guess based on his appearance, I’d peg him as one of the locals. But for all I really know, he hails from the Jersey Shore.

            Thankfully, Sophie and Frederick are sticking close to Pip’s side, and her dance partner of unknown origin isn’t getting too handsy.

      All is well. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn back toward the bar to resume my quest for a drink and, like magic, lock eyes directly with a bartender.

           Thank God!

            He jerks his chin up to head my way, and I climb to stand on the rung of my barstool with glee.

            But when he’s five steps away, his attention swings back to a point down the bar, and immediately, he diverts.

           What the hell?

            I glance down at my perky, tight-nippled breasts and frown. How in the hell did he see these fuckers and not come in for the landing?

            Annoyed, I follow him with my gaze to what I’m sure must be a woman with three tits and an exposed pussy.

            I pause. Stop. Go completely still.

           Wow. That is definitely not a woman with freakish anatomy. In fact, that’s no woman at all.

            Midnight-blue eyes, a little scruff on his strong jaw, and the kind of lips that I instinctually know will be good at kissing, the man who stole my bartender warrants more than a double take.

           Hot damn.

            He’s clad in a smart suit but no tie, and his collared shirt is loose at the neck but perfectly fitted around the tight, firm muscles of his chest. The suit is obviously tailored and screams of money, but I have a feeling not even gold-plating would be able to disguise the spectacular body he’s got underneath.

            His face is serious—but God, even serious, he is handsome as fuck.

            The urge to find out what he looks like when he smiles is both overwhelming and terrifying. I mean, how would I even quantify anything beyond perfection?

            A shiver runs up my spine. I really want to see what this guy is all about.

            I imagine if I could remember Pippa existed at this point, I’d try to thank her for insisting I celebrate our accomplishments by lifting the man ban for the night.

            As it is, I’m not sure anyone but me and the hottie with the sparkling eyes are left on the planet.

            When he finishes talking to what I can only assume is the bartender who abandoned me, he turns back toward the dance floor and rests his hip against the bar.

            His still-serious eyes scan the joint, moving from the dance floor to the VIP section to the intimate booths scattered along the walls and then back to the line of the bar, all the way back to me.

            My breath catches in my throat when he meets my curious gaze and pauses.

           Yes, please.

            Drink forgotten, I mouth the word “Hi” toward him, and the slight hint of a smile threatens to quirk up just one corner of his lips.

           God, I want to see him smile.

            He mouths “Hi” back before pulling the center of his bottom lip between his teeth and dragging it back out. One perfect dimple pokes out from his cheek.

           Hell’s bells, that’s one dangerously sexy look…

            Unconsciously, I lick my bottom lip, and without hesitation, he shoves away from his spot at the bar and closes the distance between us.

            “Hi,” I repeat when he stops within hearing distance—and in this club, with this crowd and noise, that’s pretty fucking close.

             With full lips, white teeth, and two dimples, he smiles the sexiest smile I’ve seen in my life at the single-syllable word. And as a bonus, I can see now that his sparkling eyes are midnight blue, like the deepest part of the ocean.

            “Hi,” he responds, rounding out our freak cycle of hellos, and it’s instantly evident he’s an American like me.

            “You should do that more.”

            He raises a questioning brow, leaning just one hand into the lighted marble bar top behind me. It makes his size feel impressive, makes me feel enveloped. My whole body spasms, and I take a deep breath to control it. “Do what more?”

            “Smile,” I clarify.

            A soft but deep and raspy chuckle leaves his perfect, kissable mouth. “Who says I don’t?”

            I reach up toward the skin between his brows and his gaze follows my hand skeptically, but he doesn’t back away. “This little, almost nonexistent line right here,” I say softly, running a finger across it.

            His eyes search mine in the kind of hot and sexy way that makes me wonder if my panties are still there, but I do my best to keep my voice even as I explain further. “I bet you furrow your brow all the time.”

            He leans closer to me, and my fingers slide into the lush, dark locks of his hair on accident. “Is that right?”

            “Uh-huh,” I answer simply, unable to form words until my hand finds its way back to the safe space of my lap. It’s purely circumstantial that my fingers graze his cheek and then his neck along the way. I clear my throat and look up to meet his eyes again. “I mean, here you are, in a club, at a bar with beautiful women all around you, and until you came over here, I couldn’t tell if you were having a good time at all.”

            He laughs a little and then asks, “You know what’s funny?”

            Completely oblivious to the answer but equally eager to find out, I shake my head.

            “Neither could I.”

             “And now?” I challenge with one inquisitive eyebrow.

            “Now, I definitely am.”

            I smile then, allowing a cascade of goose bumps to cover my arms from my shoulders to my fingertips.

           Goddamn. He’s trouble, and I like it. In fact, I like it way too much.

            “Well, in that case…” I pause and bite down on my bottom lip. “Since you stole my bartender, I think it’s only fair that you buy me a drink.”

            He searches my eyes, a small smile once again lighting his own. “Stole your bartender?”

            “Yep. Plucked him right from my braless grasp.”

            He laughs again, shaking his head and fighting like hell not to look down. I’m immediately impressed by his level of self-control. Nine out of ten of the men I’ve been with in the past would have focused in on my buzzword and failed to look away from it for the rest of the night.

            But not this guy. He’s interested—I can tell by the way his pupils have dilated—but for now, he’s content to focus on my eyes.

            Irony at its finest, as that simple behavior actually increases his chances of seeing my nipples later.

            “Okay, then. I guess I owe you one. What’s your poison?” That handsome grin of his grows wider, and I swear to God, I can feel it all the way to my damn toes.

      Tell him gin and tonic because it will taste good when you get him to kiss you later, my horny, sex-deprived subconscious instructs.

            The other side of my brain—the rational side—suggests something low in alcohol content—something that promotes good decisions.

            I think it over for a brief moment, scanning the features of his too-handsome face and landing on his luscious smirking lips once again.

            The answer pours out of me like a benediction. “Gin and tonic, please.”

About Max Monroe

A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far. ​

Connect with Max Monroe

Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/

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Release Blitz: Unspoken Words by K.M. Golland

This is a story of unspoken words and how loud they can be.

Unspoken Words, an all-new emotional and moving novel from K.M. Golland is available now!

Connor Bourke and I met when we were twelve years old. He was a quiet boy with so much to say and only one way to say it—through song. He’d lost his best friend to cancer, so I showed him there was love and life in loss, and to hold on to his memories, always.

Eloise Mitchell was a blazing fire when my world turned dark. She’d shined so bright and burned so fierce that the wall I’d built around myself simply melted to the ground at her feet.

We shared everything together:

Our first kiss,

first love,

first mistake,

and first regret.

She taught me to speak,

to forgive,

and to never forget.

Through his music, he could say all he needed to say except for, ‘I love you’.

I could never tell her those three words.

Yet, I knew he meant them, that he loved me beyond all measure, beyond time

… beyond a broken heart.

I loved her more than anything.

Our bond was unbreakable.

Our love was ever after.

But, then, we tend to destroy the ones we love most.

And all bonds break, especially when the heart is what holds them together.

Download your copy today!

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About K.M

Born and raised in Melbourne, Australia, K.M. Golland is a best-selling author with HarperCollins, and a ranty, married, mother of two who is quite happy to support a very healthy high heel obsession. A lover of rabbits, doughnuts, bridges, and cars, she traded her legal work for her love of writing and found her dream career.

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Website: http://www.kmgolland.com