FS Meurinne's Blog: Book Enticer, page 84

Rich Prick by Tijan

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“Blaise is the perfect rich prick to fall in love with! One of my fav reads in 2020!”

– Ilsa Madden-Mills, Wall Street Journal Bestselling author

Rich Prick, an all-new not-to-be-missed, opposites-attract standalone romance by New York Times bestselling author Tijan, is available now!

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He walked into school on his first day and owned it.

I guess that’s what happens when you’re a prick, rich, and you’re best friends with the ruling school’s king.

Also didn’t hurt he’s drop dead gorgeous.

That’s all fine.

I mean, I have nothing to do with them.

I’m a loner, invisible, and that’s how I wanted it to be.

I was even proud of it, until I wasn’t.

Until I saw a girl kneel before him.

Until I couldn’t look away.

Until he caught me watching.

His name is Blaise Devroe. My name is Aspen Monson.

He only knew how to get, command, and demand attention.

I knew how to do everything but that.

And this is our story.

*Rich Prick is a full 100k standalone.

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Download your copy today or read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/30WxruH

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

Amazon Print: https://amzn.to/30ttr4i

Add RICH PRICK to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2ArZt5G

To celebrate, Tijan is giving away a $50 Gift Card.

Click here to enter → http://www.tijansbooks.com/rich-prick-giveaway.html

Excerpt:

I’d done my research. Zeke Allen’s cabin was set a good ten miles away from the nearest neighbors. I should’ve been in the clear to sneak onto their land, do a little freestyle camping, and listen to the party sounds like the loser I was. But noooo. I was about to get company.

As I snuck out of my tent, and realized who it was, I almost crapped my pants.

It was Blaise DeVroe, holding hands with Mara Daniels.

As popular girls went, Mara Daniels was one of the nicer ones. She was on the dance team. Dark hair. Shorter, but athletic. The problem with Mara was that she was friends with the other popular girls. Some of them were nasty—hence the reason I wasn’t friends with them. Not that they’d tried to get to know me. Not that I even registered on their radar. But then again, that’s what I did.

I didn’t engage. I didn’t attend. I was on the edge. I was the invisible girl, and here I was, being the invisible girl once more, but man…

When I saw it was him, and then saw how his hand went from holding hers and guiding her to a tree to slipping around and grabbing her ass, something came over me. I couldn’t retreat back to my tent. I couldn’t even stay hidden behind a tree and just listen.

I know, I know. This was all sorts of wrong, but Blaise was Blaise.

He’d become the guy in my dreams, my weird schoolgirl fantasies. He was my high school crush. Everyone had one. If you didn’t, you’re even weirder than me, and that’s saying something. So when I started salivating over Blaise DeVroe, I kinda just let myself go. I mean, nothing was ever going to happen. Guys like him didn’t date girls like me. They didn’t even notice girls like me.

I wasn’t crazy. That’d make me all sorts of delusional.

I was a realist. I knew my place in life’s hierarchy. I was at the bottom. I was not the very bottom—because of my family—but socially, I was barely one rung up the ladder.

Anyway, when Blaise started kissing Mara, when Mara knelt in front of him, when she opened his pants—I lost all train of thought.

And, oh my God.

My whole body was awash with sensations, and I was captivated. Captivated! Entranced. Mesmerized.

I could not look away.

Then I felt throbbing and a warm feeling between my legs, and it was game over. It was all I could do not to make a sound, because I wanted to. So bad. I wanted to moan. I wanted to touch myself, but I didn’t. I kept myself reined in, but watch? Oh yeah. I watched.

I couldn’t not watch.

I watched the whole thing.

I loved the whole thing.

And then at the end of it, I almost died.

About Tijan

Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side. Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others. She is currently writing a new YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.

Connect with Tijan

Amazon: https://amzn.to/30oxe0f

Facebook:http://bit.ly/2vreAub

Twitter: http://bit.ly/2Vx4DpD

Instagram: http://bit.ly/2PyLhwy

Reader Group: http://bit.ly/38bz8nQ

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Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2EcGBqB

BookBub: http://bit.ly/2T88ibY

Website: http://www.tijansbooks.com/

Winning Hollywood’s Goodest Girl by Max Monroe

A baby on the way first.

Then love and marriage?

It’s complicated on its best day.

Winning Hollywood’s Goodest Girl, an all-new not-to-be-missed, surprise baby romantic comedy standalone by New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!

 

Raquel and Harrison sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

First comes love.

Then comes marriage.

Then comes a baby in the baby carriage.

That’s how her brother used to sing it when we were kids—a simple ploy to get under my skin and make me stick my fist in his face—but man oh man, did he get the order wrong.

One night of “kissing” in New York catapulted us straight to the pregnancy portion of the song—surprise!—and now I have to figure out how to carry out the whole melody in reverse.

A baby on the way first.

Then love and marriage?

It’s complicated on its best day.

But our situation is far more problematic than just a simple twist of nursery rhyme lyrics. Before our night together, Raquel Weaver was the best-known good girl in Hollywood—a twenty-nine-year-old sexpot virgin whom the world adored and watched like a hawk.

Obviously, the consequences of that kind of reputation don’t just go away. Add in pregnancy hormones, the media, a fake fiancé, and a selfish manager, and you have the short list of my problems.

As a thirty-four-year-old, successful CFO of a multibillion-dollar media conglomerate, I thought I would be able to handle anything show business could throw my way, but I’m starting to think I might be in over my head.

Good thing I’m all in.

Winning Hollywood’s goodest girl is going to take everything I’ve got.

Download your copy today exclusively on Amazon or read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3dIq5xP

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

Add WINNING HOLLYWOOD’S GOODEST GIRL to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2Ynwt9j

Excerpt

Harrison

Never cry over spilled milk.

That’s what my mom always said, but I have to admit, until today, I never paid it much attention. As a kid, I spilled shit all the time. Milk. Juice. Water. If it was liquid, I was splattering it all over fucking creation.

Our mop got a lot of action, sure, but every time, my mom would simply laugh. Not a little, demure giggle, but big, uproarious belly laughing. Ellie Hughes thought life was made for living, and she’d be damned if she let me dwell in the valleys. Hell, maybe that’s why I was always wreaking havoc on all of our flooring—my accidents were a precursor to something upbeat.

Anyway, I haven’t thought much about all those puddles of laughter in a long time.

But today is proof positive: my mom—well, she was a teacher way ahead of her time.

Cereal poured and the financial section of the New York Times in hand, I make my way to my circular, glass kitchen table and take a seat that faces the TV.

Hello, Today!, the syndicated fluff show during the eight o’clock hour on TBC, prattles on about the perfect Christmas breakfast for a family of four while an obnoxious elf bounces around in the background. I roll my eyes as some celebrity—fuck if I know who it is—pretends to know how to make frittatas and turn my eyes back to the paper.

Growing up, television was forbidden fruit in my childhood home. My hard-ass of a dad thought it was more important to read the Wall Street Journal and understand the stock market than watch what he called drivel. He was one of those top 1% people, and his power-wealthy position in life included uber-rich hedge funds, strategic million-dollar stock market swing trades, and a money-hungry mind-set.

The only time the one television—I’m serious, one fucking TV—in our home was actually used, it revolved around big news conglomerates and State of the Union addresses by current presidents.

But despite the old man’s eccentric views on television and movies and normal people’s forms of entertainment, I can’t deny that learning about the stock market at an early age and being forced to understand things like the global economy and trade deals has served beneficial in adulthood.

My morning routine normally synchronizes beautifully for an all-out news download before heading to the office. But today, because of a late dinner meeting last night and too many Christmas-themed cocktails that have nothing to do with the holly-sprig adorned ones on TV, I’m running behind schedule.

The great news is, as CFO of one of the largest media conglomerates in the world, I’m actually allowed to do that on occasion without getting docked on my time card. In fact, I haven’t seen an actual time card in ages. The only punching I do is at Tommy John’s Kickboxing on Wednesdays in a basement studio all the way over on 75th and Broadway.

In the interest of full punching disclosure: I suck at it. Mohammad Ali in training, I am not. But flab is real, friends, even for the studly men in your life, and punching a bag with little to no precision keeps the excess weight off me. In layman’s terms, it keeps the ladies from grabbing on to anything other than muscle in bed.

Ha.

Scratch that last line. They grab my dick; I didn’t mean to make it sound like they don’t. There’s actually more penile touching than any other kind of touching in the cottony comfort of my sheets, and I’m very good at touching the ladies, in turn, with my mouth and penis. In fact, when my dick hears the words dick pic, it asks for photo credit because it was most certainly the one taking the picture.

Okay, maybe I’ve gotten a little carried away, but my point is the same.

What I meant to imply was that they don’t grab on to a beer gut—and trust me, if I didn’t work out, they would. I love beer and chicken wings, and I indulge in them both on way too many occasions to maintain some kind of quota weight “naturally.” If it weren’t for all the strenuous, practically nightly kickboxing workouts, if I were a woman in the public eye, I would be a constant ludicrous headline for my “fluctuating waistline.”

Thankfully, I am trim, toned, and able to binge on buffalo wings whenever the fuck I want.

My cell vibrates across the table, and I snag it off the glass surface to see Incoming Call Cap flashing on the screen.

I sigh at the idea of listening to Caplin Hawkins’s bullshit before I’ve finished my first cup of coffee, but I answer it despite my better judgment.

“Harrison, you sly motherfucker, those stock tips you gave me last quarter have my portfolio growing green like I’m a damn cannabis farmer.” He forgoes a greeting and dives straight into what is most likely his selfish needs. “Should I be concerned you’re getting insider info?”

“Wow, it’s so great to hear from you too, bud.” I smirk and lick my finger to get traction on the thin paper and flip through the pages until I get to yesterday’s closing data for the Dow Jones and S&P 500. Quickly, I scan through the numbers. It’s only one week away from Christmas and a few weeks away from New Years’, and this month’s upward trend appears fairly optimistic for avoiding a choppy close to the year.

“Yesterday, HawCom was up five-fucking-percent. Seriously, dude, are you dragging me and my father’s company into some illegal bullshit?” he asks, and I look away from my newspaper to roll my eyes.

HawCom is the company I’ve been with for the past decade, and it just so happens to be owned by Cap’s father, Jared Hawkins. Financial management for a company of its scale has been tricky these days with the ongoing uncertainty of the market, but all in all, HawCom’s performance numbers have been stable and steadily growing for the last nine quarters. As a major media company with “silent” ownership in some of the world’s most relevant technology companies, it’s not completely unexpected, but it’s certainly not guaranteed.

“Is it difficult being the most ridiculous bastard on the planet?” I retort. “Because, fuck, I can imagine it gets hard coming up with new ways to be this insane.”

Despite this idiot’s stupid question, everything I do is by the book. No insider trading. No fraud. It all comes from a mind that’s been trained since childhood to be strategic and understand economic patterns.

And even if I shouldn’t, for the state of my motivation to maintain a certain work ethic, I do allow myself to take a little credit for HawCom’s success. I’ve been charged with a large job due to my leadership role in the company, but I cherish the opportunity. It’d be hard not to with an uncharacteristically kind and charismatic boss like Jared at the helm.

And for the last four months, I’ve made it a point to cherish everything.

See, I choose to be happy every day.

I choose gratitude and intention in my every action.

I choose the way my life plays out—all of us do.

It took me more than three busy, painful decades and the loss of both parents to figure that out, but now that I have, the freedom in it is impressive.

The truth is, until we die, all of us get to choose our own destiny—

“I swear to God,” Cap grumbles. “I will end you if I wind up in some kind of high-security prison for stock fraud.”

I laugh at the absurdity. “I help you grow your portfolio—without commission, mind you—and you’re threatening murder?”

“Are you deflecting, son?” he questions, always the fucking lawyer. “Because I swear on every-damn-thing, I will—”

“Relax.” I snort. “The only thing illegal about the stock tips I gave you was the fact that I handed them to you on a silver-fucking-platter without asking for anything in return.”

“Speaking of handing shit to me on a silver platter, let’s do that again,” he says, a cunning smile apparent in his voice. “Who is looking profitable for the first quarter of next year?”

“And why should I give you anything, you prick?”

“Because you love me. Because you don’t want to see me become a vagabond, living on the streets.”

“You’re one of the most successful corporate lawyers in North America who already has some of the world’s best advisers handling his money. I’m pretty sure a lack of financial investment advice from me isn’t going to break your bank.”

“Minor details.” He chuckles. “C’mon, dude. Help your best friend and his sweet, lovely, beautiful wife out.”

“Now you’re bringing Ruby into this?” I tsk. “For shame.”

“You and I both know, shameless or not, I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want,” he retorts, and I laugh outright.

“Are you wanting stock tips or to get me into bed? Because, truthfully, it feels like it could go either way at this point.”

Of course, he doesn’t miss a fucking beat. “I’ll even toss in a candlelit dinner and champagne if that’s what it’s going to take.”

Just for the sake of ending this insanity, I start to open my mouth with a few companies that are worthy of investments in the upcoming quarter, but a shrill voice on the screen of the TV steals my attention. I wouldn’t normally refer to any woman’s voice as shrill because I find it incredibly sexist and demeaning, but I’m telling you, for the sake of painting an accurate description, this particular voice, regardless of its bearer’s gender, is like the distress call of a wounded rabbit. I couldn’t miss it if I were in an underground bunker with six feet of sound-dampening dirt between us. And somehow, somehow, she still made it on TV.

“Thanks, Chris,” she continues, her voice still painful to my ears. “Today is anything but business as usual in sunny Southern California. It seems, folks, that the impossible has happened. Hollywood is abuzz this morning with the most infamous immaculate conception since the Virgin Mary herself.”

My eyebrows pinch together at the ridiculous drivel as I lift the spoon to my mouth. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph must be rolling over in their graves.

“Twenty-nine-year-old famed virgin sexpot, Raquel Weaver, was photographed leaving Beverly Hills Obstetrics today with a noticeable bump front and center on her normally trim figure.”

Brakes squeal to a stop inside my head.

What the fuck? Did she just say Raquel Weaver?

I gape at the television, trying to make sense of why that name of all names just came out of Screechy’s mouth, but the instant a photograph pops up on the screen and all-too-familiar violet eyes stare back at me, I have my fucking answer.

Holy shit. It’s her.

About Max Monroe

A 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

BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh

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

Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS

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Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau

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

Rate a Date by Monica Murphy

Rate a Date, the next installment in New York Times & USA Today bestselling author, Monica Murphy’s, Dating series of standalones, releases July 14, 2020!

Cover Artist: Hang Le

Eleanor Murray is tired.

Tired of going on awkward dates. Tired of meeting men who just aren’t that into her. Tired of being set up on blind dates by her well-meaning friends.

She is a believer of true love, of finding that happily ever after, and she wants it. She deserves it. But at the rate she’s going, she’s pretty sure it’s never going to happen.

Until a friend creates a profile for Eleanor on a new dating app. At first, she’s reluctant. Dating apps aren’t the way to finding true love, are they? But then she makes a connection on Rate a Date, and this gorgeous, confident guy almost seems too good to be true…

Mitch Anderson has a secret.

He’s just moved to Las Vegas for his high profile job and after years of playing the field, he’s looking for a serious relationship. He wants to find a woman who likes him for who he is, not what he does. Meeting Eleanor on the dating app, he’s intrigued. Meeting her in real life while she’s in town for a bachelorette weekend, he completely falls for her. Now he’s in way over his head.

Their chemistry is combustible. They can’t keep their hands off each other. But will Eleanor forgive him when she finds out who he really is?

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Pre-order today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Ab3r34

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

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Kobo: https://bit.ly/3dCm0M1

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3gZnemN

Meet Monica:

Monica Murphy is the New York Times, USA Today and #1 international bestselling author of the One Week Girlfriend series, the Billionaire Bachelors and The Rules series. Her books have been translated in almost a dozen languages and has sold over one million copies worldwide. She is both self-published and published by Random House/Bantam and HarperCollins/Avon. She writes new adult, young adult, and contemporary romance.

She is a wife and a mother of three who lives in central California on fourteen acres in the middle of nowhere along with their one dog and too many cats. A self-confessed workaholic, when she’s not writing, she’s reading or hanging out with her husband and kids. She’s a firm believer in happy endings, though she will admit to putting her characters through angst-filled moments before they finally get that hard won HEA.

Connect with Monica:

Facebook: http://bit.ly/MonicaMurphyFB

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/MonicaMurphyGR

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1YUl0Vm

Twitter: http://bit.ly/MonicaMurphyTW

Website: http://monicamurphyauthor.com
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Twitter: http://bit.ly/MonicaMurphyTW

The Dare by Elle Kennedy

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THE DARE

 

Get ready for another binge-worthy romance from New York Times bestselling author Elle Kennedy!

College was supposed to be my chance to get over my ugly-duckling complex and spread my wings. Instead, I wound up in a sorority full of mean girls. I already have a hard time fitting in, so when my Kappa Chi sisters issue the challenge, I can’t say no.

The dare: seduce the hottest new hockey player in the junior class.

Conor Edwards is a regular at Greek Row parties…and in Greek Row sorority beds. He’s the one you fall for before you learn that guys like him don’t give girls like me a second glance. Except Mr. Popular throws me for a loop—rather than laughing in my face, he does me a solid by letting me take him upstairs to pretend we’re getting busy.

Even crazier, now he wants to keep pretending. Turns out Conor loves games, and he thinks it’s fun to pull the wool over my frenemies’ eyes.

But resisting his easy charm and surfer-boy hotness is darn near impossible. Though I’m realizing there’s much more to Conor’s story than his fan club can see.

And the longer this silly ruse goes on, the greater the danger of it all blowing up in my face.

 

EXCERPT

 

“Thank you,” she breathes the moment we’re alone.

“No problem. Mind if I make myself comfortable?”

“Um, yeah. I mean, no. I don’t mind. Sit if you want. Or—wow, okay, you’re lying down.”

I grin at her visible nervousness. It’s cute. While I stretch out my six-foot-two frame amid the stuffed animals and decorative pillows on the bed, she remains the startled rabbit plastered against the door and breathing heavily.

“Gotta be honest,” I tell her, entwining my hands behind my head, “I’ve never seen a girl so unhappy to be locked in a bedroom with me.”

This has the desired effect of loosening her shoulders and even eliciting a shy smile. “I have no doubt.”

“I’m Conor, by the way.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

“What’s the eyeroll for?” I ask, playing wounded.

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just, I know who you are. You’re, like, campus famous.”

The more I watch her, hands braced at her sides against the door, one knee bent, dirty-blonde hair a little messy and draped over one shoulder, I can’t help picturing myself holding her arms above her head while I explore her body with my mouth. She’s got very kissable skin.

“Taylor Marsh,” she blurts out, and I realize I don’t know how long we were silent until then.

I scoot to the far side of the bed and put a pillow beside me as a divider. “Come on. If we’re going to be in here awhile, let’s at least make friends.”

Taylor laughs out a breath and with it she releases a bit more tension. She’s got a nice smile. Bright, warm. It takes a bit more coaxing, however, to get her on the bed.

“This isn’t like a move,” she tells me, lining up stuffed animal guards to patrol the pillow wall between us. “I’m not some sort of weirdo who tricks men into getting in bed with her and then mauls them.”

“Sure.” I nod with mock seriousness. “But a little mauling would be okay.”

 

The Dare purchase links:

Amazon: https://geni.us/TDrAmz

Apple: https://geni.us/TDrAp

Kobo: https://geni.us/TDrKobo

Nook: https://geni.us/TDrNook

 

Other Links:

 

Briar U series: https://geni.us/BriarU

Elle’s Newsletter sign-up: http://geni.us/EKNL

Blogger Newsletter sign-up: http://geni.us/EKBlog

 

 

Dead Pretty by Samantha Towle

 

Did you see the cover and blurb for New York Times Bestselling author Samantha Towle’s new psychological thriller DEAD PRETTY?! Coming June 26th, 2020!

PURCHASE LINKS:

Add to Goodreads ➜ https://bit.ly/30zwVlU

DEAD PRETTY will be available on Kindle Unlimited. Links will be posted on release day.

Sign up for Samantha’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live! ➜ http://samanthatowle.co.uk/newsletter-sign-up

SYNOPSIS:

I’d once believed that nothing would equal the pain of losing my parents.

I was wrong.

I had barely even begun to process their deaths when it started.

The love notes, flowers, gifts … all anonymously left on my porch.

Then, I opened my door to a dead bird.

At first, I thought it had died naturally.

I knew that wasn’t the case when I found my neighbor’s cat the next day.

Then, the murders started.

The victims … women who looked eerily similar to me.

I had a stalker. A murderous one.

And I had no clue who he was.

He never showed me his face.

Not even when he carved his final message into me.

I survived that night. But my life was over. It had ended the moment Tobias Ripley’s infatuation with me began.

So, I changed my name and moved away.

Now, I live a life of solitude. I don’t make connections with anyone.

Until Jack Canti walks into my life with his sharp eyes and easy smiles.

Only Jack isn’t the man he says he is.

And when the murders start again, I’m left wondering if it’s a copycat.

Or worse …

What if Tobias wasn’t the real killer after all … and the murderer has been right here with me all along?

 

 

Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs

 

The Benefactor by Nana Malone

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I am many things. billionaire, rogue, rebel. But I never figured myself for a thief.

The Benefactor, book two in the See No Evil series by USA Today & Wall Street Journal bestseller, Nana Malone, is LIVE!

My money can buy power, control, access. Even oaths of loyalty.

The one thing it can’t buy is her…or her safety.

I vowed to protect her…

I failed…

To save her, I’ll need to forget everything I am and forgo control. And I can’t, under any circumstances, fail.

The canary jewel is the key. 

Tonight I am no longer a billionaire. 

Tonight I keep new secrets.

My name is Ben Covington and tonight, I am a thief.

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Download your copy today!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/30atCBI

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

Apple Books: https://apple.co/2xemesE

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/2ViGAZZ

Kobo: https://bit.ly/34p30ge

Google Play: https://bit.ly/2VdMprz

Excerpt:

“You’ll have to trust me.”

“Right. Trust the man who hides so much.”

“You kept things to yourself too.” He ground his teeth, and I could see the muscle of his jaw working. 

Which unfortunately also drew my attention to his lips. And I could remember his taste, spicy on my tongue. The way he kissed, first with a sip that made you want to quench your thirst in one gulp. The slow, drugging kisses designed to make a woman moan without much effort.

Jesus, I needed to stop. I would not think about him kissing me, or him lifting up my skirt, bending me over the desk and spanking me. Nope, I was not going to think about that. “From now on, no more lies. I can’t take it. I need to know what you know.”

He narrowed his gaze at me then. “Got any more copies of this that you’re hiding from me?”

“Oh, nice. Real mature. That’s the only one. I’ve just given you my insurance policy; you have to give me yours.”

“No more lies.”

“Fine. And while we’re at it, can we get security for Telly and Carmen? Todd has heard me talk about them on the phone before. I don’t want them to be targets.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Fine.”

I shifted on my feet. Do or die time. “Also, I’m not sure of the living arrangements. I don’t think I can go back to the loft.”

“You’ll be staying with me at Covington House.”

The way he said that, like a command, not a suggestion. That beautiful house with the pillars and the kitchen right out of Architecture Magazine. I hadn’t seen much of the space, but I would love to explore it. My brain slapped my pussy. Snap out of it, bitch. You’re not playing house. I cleared my throat. “I’ll accept because I have no choice. But so you know, if I had a choice, I’d be anywhere else but there.”

He approached slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. His smooth gait was catlike as he approached. The moment I could feel his heat I tried to back away. I knew I was weak. I’d lean in and sniff given half a chance. Stay strong. Stay strong.

“If it makes you feel better to say that, fine. But let me be clear. You and I, we’re not done. The conversation about us is still to be continued.” 

I swallowed hard. Because that sounded so much like a warning. One my body didn’t want to heed. I said nothing as I turned to head to my office. I wasn’t going to let him see in my gaze that I wanted to stay.

About Nana:

USA Today bestseller Nana Malone’s love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she “borrowed” from her cousin. 

It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She’s been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters.

While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion, and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.

Connect with Nana:

Website: http://nanamaloneromance.net/

Facebook: http://bit.ly/NanaMaloneFB

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/NanaMaloneGR

Twitter: http://bit.ly/NanaMaloneTwitter

Apple Books: http://bit.ly/NanaMaloneAB

Instagram: http://bit.ly/NanaMaloneIG

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Wwz3t9

Bookbub: http://bit.ly/NanaMaloneBB

Royal Games by T.K. Leigh

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#ONTOUR Royal Games, a brand-new epic

road trip contemporary romance by USA Today Bestselling author T.K. Leigh is

NOW LIVE and we are on tour!
 



Every girl dreams of falling in love with a prince.


When I met Jeremy, I thought he was my prince


Caring. Compassionate. Sensitive.


And, unfortunately for me, not attracted to women.


So here I am, thirty years old and divorced when most of my

friends are just getting married. In desperate need of a restart, I set off on

a road trip to learn how to love myself again.


The last thing I expected was to meet him.


Anderson North.
Mysterious. Enigmatic. Sexy as hell.


And, after a malfunction with my rental car, my new road

companion.


Can I give this man a piece of my heart after having it

broken?

Can I learn to trust again after having that trust betrayed?

When he reveals his deepest secret, can I look beyond the lies and toward the

only thing that matters?

I’ve always dreamed of finding my very own Prince Charming.

Maybe my prince is Anderson North.

 

 

Download your copy Today!

Apple Books: https://apple.co/2rFcogY

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3btGzIw

Amazon Universal: mybook.to/RoyalGames

All other retailers: http://bit.ly/2wNlhHk
 
EXCERPT

“Car trouble?”

A voice comes out of nowhere, startling me. I straighten and

smack my head into the hood.

“Crap,” I hiss out as I rub the sore spot.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, gorgeous.”

If the accent weren’t a dead giveaway regarding the owner of

the voice, the nickname confirms it. Stepping back, my eyes lock onto

Anderson’s, a sexy smirk on his lips.

“What’s wrong with your car?”

“It wouldn’t start a few minutes ago. When it finally did,

it wouldn’t go over twenty-five miles an hour.”

He gestures toward the engine. “Mind if I take a look?”

“You know something about cars?”

“I can get by.”

I step away, allowing him to take a look under my hood.

The car’s hood. Not my hood.

He bends down, toying with different parts of the engine. My

heart rate increases as I watch him check the oil, grease getting on his hands.

There’s something oddly erotic about watching a man as handsome as Anderson

working on a car, the corded muscles in his forearms straining, his brow

creased in confusion.

His broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his shirt, and I’m

able to make out the defined muscles of his back. When his t-shirt lifts, it

reveals a sliver of olive-toned skin. I wonder if he has that little V at his

waist all women seem to lose their minds over. In my fantasy, he most certainly

does.

In my fantasy, I even lick the ridges of that V, all the way

to his—

“Nothing looks off,” he comments, facing me.

I inhale a sharp breath, his sudden movement taking me by

surprise.

“Is that right?”

“That’s right.” His voice oozes with sin as he advances

toward me.

With each step he takes, I take one in retreat, my heart

pounding in my chest.

When my back hits the side of a Jeep Wrangler parked a few

spots from mine, I pray the owner doesn’t choose this second to need his car.

“Nora…,” he exhales, angling closer.

I inhale his intoxicating scent, a combination of the ocean

and fresh rain. “Yes?”

“You…”

“Yes?”

He draws near, his lips skimming mine. “Need to move.”

His words snap me out of my trance.

“I need to get into the glove box.” He nods at the Jeep

behind me. “That’s my car.”

“Oh. Right.”

 

 

About T.K. Leigh

T.K. Leigh, otherwise known as Tracy Leigh Kellam, is a USA

Today Best-Selling author of the Beautiful Mess series, in addition to several

other works. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern

California with her husband, dog, and three cats, all of which she has rescued

(including the husband). In late 2015, she gave birth to her first (and only)

baby. When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be

found training for her next marathon (of which she has run over fifteen fulls

and far too many halfs to recall) or keeping her daughter entertained.

Follow T.K. Leigh

Website – https://www.tkleighauthor.com

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

Twitter – https://twitter.com/TK_Leigh

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/tkleigh/

Goodreads

– https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...

 

 

 

 

The Change Up by Meghan Quinn

 

The Change Up by Meghan Quinn

Release Date: June 11th

Genre: Romantic Comedy

 

Add to Goodreads:

https://bit.ly/3c58fnB

 

 

 

AVAILABLE NOW!!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3hcyDzK

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2YkBIoz

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/30viSOf

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/30vj1kL

 

 

 

Blurb:

BREAKING NEWS: The Bad Boy of Baseball, Maddox Paige, is totally and utterly whipped.

Okay, that might not be the headlines in the newspaper this morning, but it’s the reality of my current situation.

It all started a month ago when I received a call from my best friend, Kinsley. She got a new job in Chicago and needed a place to stay. I’ve known the girl since I was five, what harm would it be to have her stay at my place for a while?

Ha! Total disaster.

Now instead of going out every night with my teammates, I’m couch surfing and sketching endless photos of my best friend . . . but that’s the least of my concerns.

The disaster, you ask? I’m rapidly falling head over cleats in love with my best friend, my roommate, and my number one fan.

And she has no idea . . .

 

 

 

Prologue:

**MADDOX**

Have you ever said something you regret?

Something you haven’t forgotten about an hour later?

Something that sits with you, stews deep in your belly, and then seeps into your bones, burying itself so far into your marrow that all you can think about is the one thing you said . . . and how you wished you could take it back the minute it slipped past your lips?

That’s where I am.

Full of regret.

People always say, “Don’t regret anything. It’s what makes you who you are.” That was said in a whiney, nasally voice. Did you hear it?

Well, those people, the ones trying to spew rainbows and sunshine up your ass about blatant mistakes . . . yeah, they’re only saying that because they fuck up on a daily basis.

Think about it, what REAL person is okay with all their regrets? No one. There is always that one thing you did, that one time, that you will always, always, always think . . . “What if I’d done that differently?”

It keeps you up at night.

You wonder, what transformed, what took over my brain, to utter such words. To alter your life completely and send it down an entirely different course.

Yeah, my life has been fucking altered all right.

Everything was fine.

I was pitching one hell of a fucking season for the Rebels, my ride or die team. I was getting along with my teammates, even the infamous Cory Potter, who made a splash after last season. I’ll hand it to the man, he really is the boss. I was getting laid whenever I wanted, which is always a plus for a guy who has massive amounts of adrenaline pumping through him daily, especially on a pitching day. And there were no strings attached.

None.

Yeah, I might have a rotation of women I call, but any single player in the major leagues does. You need the outlet. Even the prestigious Cory Potter had some booty call numbers before he found Natalie.

I was living a great life, and then it all changed. And it changed fucking fast.

Before I knew it, I was staring into my fridge at dairy products not made from a cow, but rather from oat. What the fuck is that? Oat milk? Explain to me where an oat has a goddamn nipple.

My toothbrush is made from bamboo, which gives off a very woody, splintery taste, and I’ve been using toothpaste tablets instead of paste from a tube . . . because apparently, tubes suck up life in the landfill.

The eco-friendly toilet paper in my apartment disintegrates in my hand and is worthless, making bathroom breaks a fucking nightmare.

And there’s a goddamn three-legged dog in a suit and tie sitting on my couch that goes by the name Herman, or Hermy for short.

I don’t have any privacy, I don’t even remember what meat tastes like anymore, and “Hermy” has a goddamn staring problem. And the three-legged motherfucker, yeah, he’s stealthy. I find him waiting for me outside the shower . . . staring.

When I wake up . . . staring.

When I’m trying to make a goddamn tempeh sandwich . . . staring.

Every time I tell him to “get a life” or to “fuck off” or for the love of Christ “get a new hobby”, he doesn’t even bat an eyelash.

He just stares!

I can’t fucking take it anymore.

I’m losing my goddamn mind and I don’t know . . . maybe it’s because I haven’t had sex in what feels like forever, or because my burgers are now made of imposter “meat”, or maybe because I’m forced to do things I don’t want to do. Either way, something needs to give, because I’m pretty sure from all the vegan shit I’ve been eating, my armpits are just about ready to spring their own mung beans.

Christ.

One phone call.

That’s all it took.

One fucking phone call from a person I cannot say no to, a person who will forever and always be . . . my insanely beautiful and free-spirited best friend.

 

 

 

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

Connect with Meghan:

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn

Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/meghan-quinn

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LitE4x

 

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Royal Games by T.K. Leigh

<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40/loose...

Royal Games, a brand-new epic road

trip contemporary romance by USA Today Bestselling author T.K. Leigh is NOW

LIVE!



Every girl dreams of falling in love with a prince.


When I met Jeremy, I thought he was my prince.


Caring. Compassionate. Sensitive.


And, unfortunately for me, not attracted to women.


So here I am, thirty years old and divorced when most of my

friends are just getting married. In desperate need of a restart, I set off on

a road trip to learn how to love myself again.


The last thing I expected was to meet him.


Anderson North.


Mysterious. Enigmatic. Sexy as hell.


And, after a malfunction with my rental car, my new road

companion.


Can I give this man a piece of my heart after having it

broken?

Can I learn to trust again after having that trust betrayed?
When he reveals his deepest secret, can I look beyond the lies and toward the

only thing that matters?

I’ve always dreamed of finding my very own Prince Charming.

Maybe my prince is Anderson North.







Download your copy Today!


Apple Books: https://apple.co/2rFcogY

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3btGzIw

Amazon Universal: mybook.to/RoyalGames

All other retailers: http://bit.ly/2wNlhHk





About T.K. Leigh
 

T.K. Leigh, otherwise known as Tracy Leigh Kellam, is a USA

Today Best-Selling author of the Beautiful Mess series, in addition to several

other works. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern

California with her husband, dog, and three cats, all of which she has rescued

(including the husband). In late 2015, she gave birth to her first (and only)

baby. When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be

found training for her next marathon (of which she has run over fifteen fulls

and far too many halfs to recall) or keeping her daughter entertained.


Follow T.K. Leigh
 

Website – https://www.tkleighauthor.com

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

Twitter – https://twitter.com/TK_Leigh

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/tkleigh/

Goodreads

– https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7172518.T_K_Leigh

 

 

 

One Night Only by Lauren Blakely

 

 

 

One Night Only by Lauren Blakely

Release Date: June 9th

 

Add to Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53304706-one-night-only

 

Get ready for a delicious new After Dark novella featuring a strong, protective bodyguard and the beautiful, brilliant hotel heiress he protects…

 

ONE NIGHT ONLY IS NOW AVAILABLE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED AND AUDIBLE ESCAPE!

 

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3eZrVuV

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/376NeI4

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3gWuv6N

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2AbsJhl

Audible Escape: https://amzn.to/2YcSdmH

Paperback: https://amzn.to/2UiNWgi

 

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ONE NIGHT ONLY IS NOW AVAILABLE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED AND AUDIBLE ESCAPE!

 

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3eZrVuV

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/376NeI4

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3gWuv6N

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2AbsJhl

Audible Escape: https://amzn.to/2YcSdmH

Paperback: https://amzn.to/2UiNWgi

 

 

 

 

LIVE IN AUDIBLE ESCAPE!

One Night Only, an all-new sexy novella is performed by Emma Wilder, Joe Arden and Jacob Morgan, with a special appearance by Teddy Hamilton!

 

LISTEN TODAY!

Audible Escape: https://amzn.to/2YcSdmH

 

 

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Blurb:

A delicious new After Dark novella featuring a strong, protective bodyguard and the beautiful, brilliant hotel heiress he protects…

I shouldn’t want my bodyguard the way I do. His job is to protect me. It’s not to fulfill all my filthy wishes.

And so I resist him, fighting the enticing pull of the strong, powerful man who watches over me.

Until the night we combust in my penthouse suite.

It won’t happen again, we say the next day.

Besides, my mission is singular — pull off the event of a lifetime — a one-night only concert with one of the world’s biggest rock stars.

A man my bodyguard happens to know.

And a good bodyguard knows all sorts of things about his client. Turns out he knows my secret desires, and he wants to make them come true. Including a VIP engagement so I can experience both men at the same time…

I want to say yes, but what if I fall even more in love with the man whose mission is to keep me safe?

ONE NIGHT ONLY is a red-hot, sexy love story with a toe-curling, sheet-grabbing MFM sequence.

 

 

 

 

About the Author:

A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sweet, sexy and witty. She also writes red-hot, ultra-steamy romance for her Lauren Blakely After Dark line. She’d love to give you a free book today!

Check out her web site to grab your free read: https://laurenblakely.com/one-free-book

 

 

Connect w/Lauren:

Website: laurenblakely.com

NL Signup: laurenblakely.com/newsletter

Facebook: www.facebook.com/LaurenBlakelyBooks/

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

Twitter: www.twitter.com/laurenblakely3