Twinkle (Sugandha) Varshney's Blog, page 189

His Laughing Girl A BBW- Billionaire Romance by Ellen Whyte

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His Laughing Girl A BBW- Billionaire Romance

by Ellen Whyte30,000 wordsSelf Standing and Complete$2.99
     “To being wicked.” His grey eyes were laughing at me. “Together.”     The pleasant thumping in my knickers became a vigorous pounding. Richard Cummings was gorgeous. I could feel his charm wrapping around me like a warm blanket.     Irresistible, right? I heard myself quip, “Are you Cumming onto me?”     He bounced right back, “Absolutely.”     Oh well, I told myself. It’s just a flirt fest. I have those all the time, and it hardly ever comes to anything. Because of the curves, probably. Men like me, but after we’ve had a laugh, they go to bed with someone skinny.     This was no different. I’d have a giggle with Richard, enjoy the charm and the good looks, lust after him a little bit, and know it was purely a game. Because tech billionaires with a penchant for A-list models don’t fall for curvy caterers.
*****Curvy chef Sophie Weston has given up on love. But when she is hired to cater for a very exclusive house party, she falls instantly for handsome tech tycoon Richard Cummings. However, she quickly discovers that Richard has a shady past. Should she trust him or should she walk away before her heart is broken again? A fun uplifting romance with a big beautiful woman and a yummy billionaire.

Where Can You Find The Books?His Laughing Girl is available only on Amazon and on Kindle Unlimited.His Laughing Girl on Amazon US  His Laughing Girl on Amazon UK  His Laughing Girl on Goodreads

His Competent Woman is available internationally, click here to find your favourite shop.His Competent Woman on Goodreads
Good Luck! The winner will be notified on Friday 4th August 2017

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FAIRY TALES UNLEASHED by NAIMA SIMONE

Fairy Tales Unleashed by Naima Simone Genre: Erotic Contemporary RomanceRelease Date: July 25, 2017


In the world of fairy tales, being wicked has never felt so good…

Bargain with the Beast
Desperate to keep her neighborhood community center open, Gwendolyn Sinclair seeks out Xavier St. James, her childhood friend…and brother of her dead fiancé. Xavier possesses the funds necessary to keep the center open, but he offers another bargain—a devil’s bargain: submit her body to his pleasure for seven days and the building doesn’t close its doors.

 Left scarred from an accident, Xavier is bitter, resentful and alone. When Gwendolyn reappears in his life, need and loneliness overrides conscience and he proposes an arrangement she can’t afford to refuse. With the woman he has always wanted—but could never have—finally in his bed, he hungers for more. Her heart. But could she come to love a beast?

A Perfect Fit
For no-nonsense, less-than-warm Rowyn Jeong, being labeled the plainer, wicked stepsister has never bothered her…until Darius Fiore reappears in her life. Months ago, they indulged in a hot one-night stand, and the sexy business tycoon branded her like no man had before. But his return threatens her position within her stepfather's company, and he’s the man her stepsister Cindy has within her sights—and hands.

Behind closed doors, Daruis discovered more lay beneath Rowyn’s hard exterior than the ice queen she presents to her family. Now, he understands the aloof reserve. Her family’s disregard has left her hungry for love and acceptance. But breaking down her walls will be no easy task. Especially since his presence threatens everything she’s worked so hard to achieve.

Beware. These aren’t your mother’s bedtime stories…

Author Note: The erotic romance novellas included in this set--Bargain with the Beast and A Perfect Fit--have both been previously published in 2013. I haven't changed them, except to combine the two novellas into one set. If you’ve read them under the titles Loving the Beast or Stroke of Midnight, then they're the same books. 



“What are you willing to do to save the center, Gwendolyn?”

Surprise snatched the air and words from her throat. An image swam before her—a cat with emerald eyes batting its paw at a mouse, toying with the unlucky rodent that bore an uncanny resemblance to her.

Leery and more than a little suspicious, she studied Xavier. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Exactly what I said. What are you willing to do—to sacrifice—to save the community center?”

The better question would be what hadn’t she sacrificed to save the center? She’d agreed to a cut in salary, had extended her hours to compensate for the teachers’ shorter shifts. She opened the building at seven a.m. and locked the doors well after seven p.m. When she dragged into her small Dorchester apartment each night, her feet ached, her stomach grumbled and her head usually throbbed with worries about parents, bills and funding.

But right on the heels of those sacrifices came the rewards. The laughter of the children as they played kickball. The pride straightening the shoulders of the older teens as they walked across the stage to accept their high school diplomas. The gratefulness in a parent’s eyes as they picked up their child after work, knowing their son or daughter had been safe instead of in trouble on the streets.

“Anything,” she vowed. Yes, she was long on hours and short on pay, but the rewards couldn’t be numbered…or lost. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it open.”

A calculating gleam entered Xavier’s eyes and she almost retracted the pledge.

Oh God. So that’s what the devil looks like when he buys a soul.

“I can’t interfere with the grant application process at this late date,” he said, drawing his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms. “Whether the committee’s actions were right or wrong, to step in now would penalize the recipient and, regardless of how the decision came to be, that’s not fair.”

Tough shit. She snorted and Xavier arched an eyebrow.

“There’s another alternative.” He paused and she resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder and measure the distance to the door. Once again she was the mouse to his cat. Except he’d surpassed the toying stage and was licking his paws in preparation for dinner—her. “I’ll personally fund the community center for a year. I’ll donate a check in the exact amount of the grant.”

Joy soared in her chest even as relief flooded her veins, washing away the stink of desperation she’d worn for months. She hadn’t expected him to—

Suspicion delivered a ringing reality slap. Wait a minute. She narrowed her eyes. The offer was generous yet the man she’d encountered this evening didn’t strike her as the magnanimous kind. Niggling doubt warned her a booby trap loomed one step after her agreement to his gift.

“That’s generous of you,” she hedged. Then paused. “What’s the catch?”

“You,” he murmured. “You spend seven days and nights with me…in my bed.” His lashes lowered and he stared at her from under a hooded gaze that promised sex and sin. The timbre of his voice had deepened, conjuring images of dark, hot nights and naughty acts she’d read about, dreamed about…touched herself to. “In other words, Gwendolyn, give me your body for the next week and your precious community center remains open.”


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USA Today Bestselling author Naima Simone’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey, Sandra Brown and Linda Howard many years ago. Well not that many. She is only eighteen…ish. Though her first attempt at a romance novel starring Ralph Tresvant from New Edition never saw the light of day, her love of romance, reading and writing has endured. Published since 2009, she spends her days—and nights— writing sizzling romances with a touch of humor and snark.

She is wife to Superman, or his non-Kryptonian, less bullet proof equivalent, and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, sometimes domestically-challenged bliss in the southern United States.


Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ BookBubAmazon ~ Goodreads ~ Website ~ NewsletterStreet TeamEmail: nsimonebooks@aol.com

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The Toilet Papers By Jaimie Engle

Short story collection (horror, humor, & historical)Date Published: 7/23/2017Publisher: JME Books

Have you ever noticed that reading a book on the toilet takes forever? Wouldn’t it be nice to have stories suited to your specific potty needs? This collection of short stories ranges from 50 words to more than 50 pages, separated in categories labeled to fit your bathroom needs: NUMBER ONE, NUMBER TWO, and FARFROMPOOPIN. The idea is to give you, the reader, a great deal of material to read, tailored and categorized to the needs of your intestines and bladder. So go ahead, get comfortable, pull out your Squatty Potty® and enjoy some fantasy, science fiction, horror, adventure, and humor from the comfort of your own throne…the john…the latrine…your office…the bathroom, whatever you want to call it. Just be sure to wash your hands once you’re done. 


Excerpt
“Get him to his feet,” Sarah ordered.
“Watch my shoulder,” Jedediah said. “Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
Sarah slipped beneath his wounded arm while Bobby Ray slipped under the other one. They led Jedediah to a seat that hadn’t been overturned during the fight.
The cowboy knelt before him, pulling back Jedediah’s shirt to scrutinize the wound. His face remained hidden by the wide brim of his hat. He wore hide boots whose origin Jedediah could only speculate and his skin smelled like fire.
“It’s not too deep,” the cowboy said. “Won’t take me a minute.” He pressed his large flat palm against the wound.
Jedediah bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. His mouth pooled with the iron-taste of his own blood.
The cowboy lifted his hand.
Jedediah stared as the gaping holes in his flesh were completely healed; the tear in his blood soaked shirt was all that remained. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Be careful, bartender. You don’t meant it.” He leaned over the body of what had once been Frances Deveaux and whatever had tried to eat Jedediah. “This one’s dead.”
“Course he is,” Bobby Ray said. “You killed him.”
“No. This man’s been dead.” The cowboy rolled the body on to its stomach with the steel-tipped toe of his boot. “Was before he walked through those doors.”
“The living dead?” Bobby Ray whispered.
“Of all the unholy things,” said Sarah.
Beneath Frances Deveaux’s shoulder blade lay an empty cavity where his liver should have been.
“Detestable.” Sarah covered her mouth and swept to an empty seat near the bar.
“Did he say why he was here?” the cowboy asked, staring at the body.
“Not precisely. Just said some woman tried to kill him, so he gave her what she wanted.”
“And what was that?”
Jedediah gulped hard. “Me.”
The man looked up, his face in shadows. “You?”
“That’s right.”
“Did she say what for?”
“Never got to that part.”
The man didn’t say a word as he stared at Jedediah. Finally, he spoke. “Something’s after you, Jed. I’m gonna stay in town a while to figure out what.” He looked up. “You okay with that?”
His eyes shone in a radiant shade of violet. Dirty-blond hair fell ragged from beneath his hat.
“Yes, Simeon. I’m okay with it,” Jedediah said. “I think I’m gonna need some help on this one.”
“First thing to figure out is where this man’s liver went. Hopefully, it will lead to this woman you mentioned.” Simeon stood, walked back to the entrance, and turned in the doorway. “You all better get your feet shod,” he said with a smirk, tipping his hat, “because it’s about to get ugly.”


About the Author

Jaimie Engle was once sucked into a storybook, where she decided she would become an author. She has modeled, managed a hip-hop band, and run a body shop. She loves coffee, trivia, cosplay, and podcasting on ORIGINS, where myth and science meet (podcastORIGINS.com). Basically, if it's slanted toward the supernatural or nerdy, she's into it! She lives in Florida with her awesome husband, hilarious children, and the world's best dog. She also happens to have the world’s best literary agent, Saritza Hernandez. Become a fan at theWRITEengle.com. Follow on social media @theWRITEengle and pick up books at jmebooks.com.
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FINNGARICK Black Swan D.I.T., book 2 by Victoria Danann

FINNGARICKBlack Swan D.I.T., book 2
by Victoria DanannGenre: Paranormal Romance Designer: Victoria Danann


“When it came to my attention that D.I.T. was going to Dublin, I thought of Torn Finngarick. After all he knew the culture and could, perhaps, be useful. I confess to the ulterior motive of wanting to see all the floaters brought in from the cold. He was one of the remaining few. And everybody deserves another chance. Right?

As I mentioned earlier, my wife was working for Black Swan setting up a unit called Department of Interdimensional Trespass. It seemed that creatures coming and going at will were causing havoc that had, until recently, been unexplained, believed to be fiction of the myth or folklore variety, or dismissed as interplanetary visitations. Rosie was busy hiring and training people who were going to function as police.

Anyway, I had served with Sir Finngarick when I was first knighted as the fourth member of the infamous Z Team and came to know him quite well. Most believed he was irredeemable. I did not.”Glendennon Catch, Sovereign, Jefferson Unit


When they transferred onto the larger Black Swan jet in Edinburgh, en route to Buenos Aires, Torn gave Raif a look that said, “We have arrived.” He then proceeded to flirt with the flight attendant for most of the trip. Not that his attention wasn’t welcome. Finngarick seemed to ooze sex from his pores when he turned his charm in the direction of a target.

Of course he was a healthy male elf interested in the physical expression of all that it means to be that, but there was also an element of satisfaction in having his choice of females, given the damage done by the profound social rejection of his developmental years.

Raif’s eyes were closed, but he was smiling.

“Do no’ be feignin’ sleep, boyo. I see you’re livin’ vicariously and perhaps learnin’ a trick or two about interactin’ with the fairer sex.”

Raif cocked an eye open. “You mean pie in the sky?”

“Her name is Amanda.”

“Is it now?”

“’Tis. She might like you better if you gave yourself half a chance. You have the whole exotic look thing goin’ on.”

Raif opened both eyes and cocked a brow. “Exotic look thing? So now you’re attracted to me as well? Or maybe it’s instead. You bi, Torn? I think I should know before I throw in with you as partner. It’s a big step.”

“Great Paddy. You can actually speak words with multiple syllables. Who knew?”

“Interesting. An evasion rather than an answer.”

“No,” Torn chuckled. “I’m no’ bi. No’ even the least little. But I’m no’ blind. You’re good lookin’ enough for a human.”

“Thanks,” Raid said drily.

“All you’d need to interest women is to be interested in them. Hey. For that matter, between the two of us, seems more likely that you’re the one most likely to like guys.” Amanda swished up and set drinks down for each of them, lips twitching surreptitiously at the bit of conversation she overheard. “Hey, Amanda. Do you no’ find my friend here attractive?”

Amanda looked Raif over, while he flushed at the unwanted scrutiny. “Yes. Handsome.”

Torn barked out a laugh. “See!” he almost shouted to Raif. “Aren’t you going to at least say thank you to the woman?”

Amanda hesitated for a second, but when she saw that Raif was busy glaring at Torn, she went about her business.

Once she was gone, Raif said, “That was embarrassing, you freckle-faced fucker.”

Torn gaped. “How is it embarrassin’ to be called handsome by a beautiful woman?”

“Because you put her on the spot. What was she going to say? ‘That guy? Fuck no. He’s hideous. Why would you embarrass him and me by asking that question?’”

Finngarick shook his head. “Dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Why no’?”

“For one thing it sounds ridiculous with your Irish accent.”

“Does it? Let’s call Amanda and ask her what she thinks about my accent.” When Torn looked toward the galley, Raif threw a rolled up magazine at Torn’s head. Laughing, Finngarick said, “So you’re checking the undecided box again.”

After a few minutes, Finngarick nudged Nighsong. “How’s your Spanish?”

“S’okay. Why?”

“Why do you think? Because that’s what they speak in Buenos Aires.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re not going to talk to vampire before we stake them.”

“Aye. ‘Tis true enough. But I’m thinkin’ more about after hours activities.”

Raif reopened one eye. “Girls. You mean girls. Do you ever think about anything else?”

“’Course. But I am a healthy young elf with a healthy young…”

“Yeah. Yeah. I get it. Young. Dumb. Full of come.”

“You’d better leave the poetry to the Irish. And I resent bein’ called dumb. Who helped you through calculus?”

“Do not get me started on fucking calculus. What a colossal waste of a person’s time and energy? Do you believe we’re ever going to use calculus as vampire hunters?” Torn opened his mouth to speak, but Raif was on a tear. “No. We are not.”

“What has gotten into you? Is the cabin pressure pushin’ words out of your mouth that have just been lyin’ dormant for years waitin’ to be released?”

“Funny.”

“One word. Two syllables. That’s more like it.”

“Maybe I didn’t have anything to say before now.”

“Who are you?”

Raif offered up a shit eating grin. “I’m your fucking partner, soon-to-be Sir Finngarick.”

It was the first time Torn had ever heard his name paired with the honorific ‘Sir’. It sobered him for a second, but not longer.

“Aye. You are. Even if you become a nonstop jabber jaws.” Raif grunted. “That’s my man.”





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SIMON SAYSD.I.T., book 1

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Simon Tvelgar wasn’t always the staid and steady director of the Order of the Black Swan headquarters in Edinburgh who manages the most unruly congregation of talented misfits ever assembled into one organization.

No. He was once a young, beautiful, athletically gifted knight, wild and lustful as any, until he fell in love with a Scottish fae girl who on bereavement leave. He lost her to the stones of the Orkneys as they picnicked there on Lammas twenty years before. She was swallowed up and faded from view, a look of panic on her face as she reached for him while her mouth silently formed his name. He lunged to grab her, but she was simply gone.

Year after year he traveled back to the Orkney Islands and talked to locals, but Shivaun was never seen again. Simon channeled his sorrow and loneliness into work until he eventually rose to the highest position open to an ex Black Swan knight.

Now, for the first time, he thinks there might be someone who could find Shivaun. Rosie Storm.

This novella introduces a new Black Swan series, D.I.T., Department of Interdimensional Trespass.



Victoria Danann is the New York Times bestselling author of twenty romances. For the past four years in a row, Victoria's Knights of Black Swan series have won prestigious Reviewers' Choice Awards for both BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES and PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL OF THE YEAR. This past year three of her series and three of her novels were nominated. Two of her series took the top two places and two of her books took first and second place in the PNR Novel of the Year category.

In addition to vampire hunting knights, Victoria writes other paranormal romance, scifi, fantasy, and contemporary romance.

Victoria co-hosts the popular ROMANCE BETWEEN THE PAGES podcast which can be found on itunes or at → www.romancecast.com

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ESCAPE FROM BEHRUZ by Judy Meadows

ESCAPE FROM BEHRUZby Judy MeadowsGenre: Spicy Contemporary Romance

A trek through the mountains to Iran--with her baby, her puppy, her secrets, and the man she must never love.


Two years ago, abandoned, despondent, and pregnant, Olivia was pressured into letting her sister and her sister’s husband, the sultan of Behruz, adopt her baby and pretend he’s their natural child. Her sister died soon after the baby was born, so Olivia has been able to raise her son after all. The sultan lets her stay in the palace, but if she ever reveals the baby’s true parentage, he’ll make sure she never sees the child again.

Now rebellion threatens the country. And the baby’s real father, Rashid, has returned. He arranges for Olivia and the baby he doesn’t know is his to escape with him to Iran, traveling under cover of the nomad migration.

Can Olivia spend nights in a tent with Rashid without succumbing to the attraction that has always drawn her to him? Can she survive the trip without revealing her secret and without losing her heart to him once again?



When the meal was over, the women helped her put on her nomad costume. They wanted to do everything. Their hands were all over her, pulling at her sweater and trying to open the snap and zipper of her jeans. They giggled and exclaimed when they saw her small, pale breasts, but the biggest source of delight turned out to be her lacy briefs. She was relieved when they covered her with the new clothes.

“This reminds me of a wedding,” Fatima said when they all stepped out of the tent. “When a Qashami girl gets married, the women all help her dress in her wedding clothes and then they escort her to her husband’s tent.”

Walking toward the tent of her “husband,” Olivia felt like a bride. The mantle framed her face and fell down her back like a bride’s veil, and the long skirt swayed with every step. Rashid stood in front of the tent talking to Saddiq. He was wearing a long shirt and a wool vest like those worn by the other men. Time stopped for several heartbeats when his eyes fell on Olivia. He seemed to straighten up, to become taller, and everything about him became very still.

She met his gaze boldly. The petticoats swished around her legs when she walked. She felt the swing of her arms, the sway of her hips, even the slight bounce of her breasts. All the women stood behind her, waiting for Rashid’s reaction.

“Spin around again like you did for us in the tent,” Fatima whispered to Olivia.

Rashid’s nomad clothes made him look primitive and very male. His eyes were intent on her, like the eyes of an animal watching its prey. He was motionless except for a slight quivering of his nostrils.

Olivia lifted her arms slowly, and the women stepped back away from her. Then she began the pirouette. She moved as if in a trance. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. But still the skirt rose, its colors blurring as she spun, and she felt dizzy and flushed when she stopped. She gave Rashid a smile that came from some new knowledge.

“You are a temptress,” he said in English. His eyes were dark pools that beckoned her to tempt and be tempted.

“The ladies are waiting to see what you think of their handiwork.”

He stepped toward her and reached his hand up to touch her face at her temple. Then he slid it down until it cupped the nape of her neck. A shiver of response rippled through her, but she didn’t move.

“She is very beautiful,” he said in Farsi. “The costume is perfect. She is perfect.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. The speculations and remarks of the nomads hushed. A crow cawed in the distance, and then it was silent too. She was mesmerized. She felt possessed.




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MIDWIFE IN BEHRUZEnd of 2017

Laila’s trip to Behruz, her father’s country and home of her early years, is meant to be one last adventure before she joins her dreamboat fiancé in Texas. But Behruz casts a spell on her. Her knowledge as a midwife is needed there. Serving women’s health in a country where no one talks about “such things” presents interesting challenges.

Majid, a doctor trained in the States, has returned to Behruz to serve his people. He’s ready to settle down, but because of old family wounds, American women are forbidden to him. That’s no problem until Laila walks into his clinic—with a sassy smile, a jar of semen, and a blond fiancé back home.



I grew up in Minnesota but now live in a small town in Oregon with my husband Jim. I’m a mom, grandma, wife, gardener, cat-lover, nerd, and traveler.

I’ve had a few different careers, starting with work as a systems engineer for IBM after college. Then there was my “earth-mother” stage. Jim and I had a farm in northern California where we raised kids (one of our own and several foster kids), apples, Asian pears, and raspberries. When we retired from farming and moved to Oregon (when we should have been done with the parenting thing), we added one more child, a 10-year-old girl adopted from a Russian orphanage.

Next, when our new daughter was settled into the family, I became a doula and childbirth educator. (See www.doulajudy.com and www.mexicanmidwives.com) During 20 years of working as a doula, I helped 460 women in labor.

During a sabbatical from career number one (computers), I spent a year in the Middle East, traveling and camping in a Landrover. Later, Jim and I spent a year and a half in Iran working as computer engineers on a project that was meant to modernize the Iranian phone system (but was interrupted by the revolution). I based the fictional country of Behruz on Iran and Afghanistan as I knew them back then, before war and political turmoil altered both countries.

Now, at last, I’m fulfilling a lifetime dream by writing. My second romance novel, Midwife in Behruz, which will come out at the end of 2017, draws on my experience with childbirth. I’ve just started plotting the final book in what will be a trilogy of stories set in Behruz.

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Love at First Crepe By Heidi Renee Mason

Title: Love at First CrepeAuthor: Heidi Renee MasonGenre: Humorous Romantic MysteryRelease Date: July 22, 2017Publisher: Hot Tree PublishingCover Designer: Claire Smith

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2q4JRvtAll others: http://books2read.com/love-crepe

Born into the wealthy Simpson family, free-spirited Willow is determined to make her own way in life. Cooking is her one true love, and she is content to keep it that way. Romance has never been on her agenda, but she suddenly finds herself in the middle of a deliciously decadent love triangle. With two gorgeous men vying for her attention, she vows to keep her distance from both, but the tantalizing chemistry is hard to ignore.
Unfortunately, it seems that someone wants to get rid of Willow, making her already tricky situation that much more difficult. One crazy night changes everything, and Willow’s life is turned upside down. Between thwarting her own murder plot, keeping her divinely tasty admirers at bay, and trying to stay on the good side of her finicky cat, Omelet, Willow’s plate is full. With far too many cooks in the kitchen, will she be able to stay alive long enough to figure out who wants to kill her?
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2q4JRvtAll others: http://books2read.com/love-crepe

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Heidi Renee Mason is a passionate romance novelist and crafter of your next Happily Ever After. She loves listening to the voices in her head (from her characters, of course!) and creating worlds in which her readers can lose themselves for a little while. A native of the Midwest, Heidi now resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and three daughters.


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Swink by Adriana Locke

Title: SwinkSeries: Landry Family #5Author: Adriana LockeGenre: A Standalone Bad Boy/Good Girl RomanceRelease Date: July 21, 2017


Blurb
I’m that guy.

Camilla Landry rustles against me, the silky fabric of her overpriced lingerie slipping along my bruised rib. The porcelain perfection of her skin is even more innocent against the colorful ink dotting my own. It’s demure meets damage, pampered meets punctured.

So, yeah, it’s obvious I’m that guy. Dominic Hughes. Her attempt at rebellion. Her bid to see what the other side of the tracks feel like. I’m okay with being used because, from where I’m sitting, the other side of the tracks have never looked so good. 

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Excerpt
He’s standing in the doorway, one hand on the sweatpants that hang just below his chiseled hips and the other leans on the frame. The tattoos that mark his flesh are vivid against his bare skin, making the blues of his eyes shine. He flashes a lopsided smile my way. “Took you long enough.”“I don’t drive like a bat out of hell,” I laugh, stepping past him. “Did you shower already?”“Yeah. I smelled like gym floors.”              “As long as you don’t smell like gym whores,” I say, setting the bags on the table in the kitchen.His laugh is contagious and I feel myself smiling. A set of arms cage me in from behind, grasping the table on both sides of me. My skin breaks out in a shiver as his lips find the sensitive spot behind my ear. His face buries in the crook of my neck and he takes a long, leisurely breath. “You smell so good.”“Keep doing that,” I say, relaxing my head onto his chest. “What?”“Talking with your mouth against me.”“You like this?” he asks all breathily so that each word whispers across my skin. My eyes fall closed as I relish in this moment of nothing but him. “No, I love this.”“Can I tell you a little secret?”“As long as you keep talking, you can tell me whatever you want.”He chuckles, dotting kisses up and down my neck. “I love this too, feeling your body give up the fight of the day and let me take over.” He turns me in his arms so I’m facing him. “I love that you trust me enough to let your shoulders sink out of that perfect posture you walk around with.”As he reaches up and undoes the elastic in my hair, I watch his features soften. He moves carefully, unwrapping the tie from the twisted mess in my locks, careful not to pull. “There,” he says, cupping the back of my head through my long tresses, “that’s better.”“You don’t like my hair up?”“Not like you had it. You look to lunching-y,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Lunching-y?”“Yes,” he grins. “You are too cute.”“You are too fucking sexy.”Reaching up, I swipe the pad of my thumb over the cut above his eye. He flinches, but just for a second. “What happened?”“Bond’s right hand.”“I hate him.”“So do I,” he snickers. “Let’s get some ice for it.”He leans in, his brows tugging together. “Let’s not.” His eyes hood as he takes me in, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. My knees weaken, my body humming with delight at his reaction.“I want to take care of you,” I whisper, although that’s really on the backburner now. “Let me baby you.”Instead, he lifts me up and places me on the table. My stomach clenches as he positions himself between my thighs, my sundress curling at my waist. I ring my legs around him, pulling him so close that the soft cotton of his sweatpants rubs against my opening. He looks down. “You aren’t wearing panties.”





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Author Bio
USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.



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THE JADE EMPEROR by Suzanne Jenkins

THE JADE EMPERORby Suzanne JenkinsGenre: Contemporary Romantic Fiction


A marriage of nearly half a century faces its greatest challenge when a stranger arrives, bearing life changing news. Although Steve and Kelly Boyd live together, they barely tolerate each other. Marrying in their teens and quickly becoming parents, the separation due to the war in Vietnam forms the foundation for the next forty-five precarious years.

Filling the empty marriage with the companionship of her twin sister, Karen, and the family she made with Steve, Kelly’s life revolves around her six adult children.

The stranger’s sudden appearance clarifies so much about Steve’s lifetime behavior to Kelly.

Heartfelt conversations at the local coffee shop where son Reggie works as a barista, help the family resolve differences, build new relationships, and grow in acceptance of one another.

At the end, love outweighs everything.



Before night fall, Kelly Boyd’s life revolved around her marriage and children. After sundown that same day, many of the things she’d based her life on would no longer exist.

In Michigan, autumn meant apple cider and donuts; pumpkins piled high at every market, the pungent smells of campfires in backyard fire pits, and hay bales stacked decoratively on suburban porches instead of in horse and sheep troughs. Loving fall the best out of all the seasons, Kelly hoped to spend part of the upcoming weekend visiting a local cider mill with her children and grandchildren, initiating the onset of autumn. No one questioned what the weekends would bring; Kelly had something planned for each one far in advance. Looking forward to it all week, the excitement and anticipation made the stress of her job recede. Kelly didn’t need vacations; cruises and trips to exotic places held no interest for her because her family provided all she needed in life.  Simmering away in the back of her subconscious was a seed of non-specific unease that grew and festered if she gave it too much of her attention. A common occurrence for her, she thought it was simply women’s intuition instigating worry with no foundation. Sticking rigorously to her schedule no matter what; her husband, Steve once joked that he could be having a heart attack on the floor, and Kelly would finish whatever task she was doing before she’d stop to call 911.

“That’s not even funny,” she replied the first time he said it, frowning, but he wouldn’t relent.

The routine had become essential for her wellbeing. After a week of grueling hospital work as a nurse, Kelly spent each Friday night cleaning house so the weekend would be free. Dinner long over, she’d talk on the phone to her sister with reruns of Hoarders on the television as background noise while she cleaned. Steve, her husband of over forty years, sequestered in his basement man-cave watching sporting events on a ninety-inch flat screen, was oblivious to whatever Kelly was up to until he heard the vacuum running.

On this particular Friday, the weather was warm; the last days of Indian summer in progress, and in honor of it she’d left the front door open, locking the storm door. While mopping the wood floors that covered the dining room and front hallway, she heard a car pull up in front of the house.

“Hold on for a minute,” she told her sister, holding on to the phone.

Going to the door, she looked out at a Yellow Cab that had stopped directly in front of their house. A tall, thin, man got out of the back, and leaned through the window to chat with the driver. Kelly saw him reach into his pocket to retrieve paper money, watching as he counted out bills, handing them through the window. The driver drove off, and it wasn’t until then that Kelly realized the man was headed to her house.

“Beaver, come,” she called to the dog in a low voice.

Their shepherd - boxer mix obediently came to her side and gave a low growl as he watched the man walk up the steps. Wishing the TV wasn’t on so loud; if she needed to yell for Steve, he’d never hear her. Standing with the mop handle in her hand, the young man came up the steps, smiling. Attractive, clean cut, and possibly Asian, she thought if he’s going to attack me, he’d bust through the door right away, but the dog would get him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to show up at this hour. Is Augustus Boyd here?” he said loud enough to be heard through the glass.

It was uncommon for someone to come to their house late, and never for her husband. Kelly hesitated, wondering if she should at least ask his name, or why he wanted to speak to Steve, but decided against it; she’d let Steve handle it.

“I’ll get him. Wait here just a moment.”

The young man nodded his head, and Kelly, on a whim, shut the big door and locked it, putting her mop handle against the wall, moving quickly to the basement landing. She opened the door and ran down the steps. Steve looked up when she entered his den.

“What’s up?”

“There’s a man at the door asking for Augustus.”

“Did he give a name?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I was standing there like an ass with the door wide open cleaning when the cab let him out, and all I thought of was how quickly I could get the door shut without offending him.”

Steve got out of his recliner and followed her up the stairs.

“Who’d come here in a cab?” he said, his lips set in a line.

“I have no idea.” Kelly stepped aside so Steve could get to the door.

Opening it, the young man looked at Steve, smiling. They watched each other, looking into each other’s eyes.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked, his heart pounding, the unfamiliar intrusion upsetting.

Not a deep thinker, something told Steve this man would alter the course of his life.

“Can I talk to you in private?” the young man asked, looking around Steve’s shoulder at Kelly.

Steve looked at her, too and shrugged his shoulders. He unlocked the storm door.

“Sure,” he said, stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

Kelly wondered what could be so important, or so private that the man couldn’t talk about it in front of her. Picking up the phone, she spoke, but her sister had hung up. Calling her back, for the next ten minutes, they speculated about who it might be.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on,” she said before hanging up.

Walking to their bedroom, she grabbed the linen hamper, circling through the rooms on that floor to grab what needed washing, taking it to the basement. Nothing, not even a mysterious stranger could disrupt her routine. Moving clothes from the washer to the dryer, she then fed more dirty clothes into the washer. If she timed it right, she‘d have all their laundry done by midnight.

Life had become regimented for Kelly and therefore tolerable; grocery store after work at the beginning of the week, housework on Friday, visiting on Saturday, outings on Sunday. Monday she’d start all over again, cooking for the week, visiting her children when she could in the afternoon, often lingering over their kitchen tables long after she should’ve been home. Getting things done, being organized; that was what mattered to her. Having every area of her life under control was what brought her anxiety-ridden thoughts into submission.

Their six children lived locally. Augie, Jr., twins Ben and Lisa, Ken, Reggie, and Alice. Two were married with children of their own; they lived in houses and apartments spread around town. Proud of her children, she and Steve had worked hard to educate them, and they were all employed in some form.

Running up the stairs with a basket full of folded laundry, she yelped when she opened the door, Steve standing in the kitchen surprising her.

“You scared me. Who was it?” she asked, taking the laundry back to their bedroom.

Not answering, he followed her.

“I’m going to drive him to his hotel so he doesn’t have to wait for a cab,” he said, picking up his wallet and money clip off the dresser.

“Who is he?” she asked again, making his and hers piles on their bed.

He didn’t answer again, and Kelly turned to look at him.

“Steve, who is it?”

“The son of a friend,” he said. “I’ll be gone about an hour. Do you want anything while I’m out?”
It was so odd, him leaving like that on a Friday night; she was concerned only from the standpoint that he’d be safe and nothing else. She didn’t distrust him, certainly. There was no reason not to trust him.

“No, I can’t think of anything. Are you okay?”

Taking a moment to really look at him, he was as white as a sheet. “What’s going on?”

He went to her, took her by the shoulders, kissing her forehead, so out of character; she knew something was terribly wrong. Steve hadn’t kissed her in months.

“I’ll get the full story from him on our way into town. I’ll have my cell phone if you decide you need anything.”

She thought, what would I need?

“Hurry back,” she said, concerned.

Trying to think what friend had a son who’d show up on a doorstep at ten at night, no one came to mind. Steve was a pipefitter, and the shop where he worked had almost a zero turnover. When he retired in one more year, it would be the first opening they’d have in almost fifteen years. She knew everyone he worked with, and his friend-pool, although she could hardly say they were friends, was made up of other pipe-fitters. They’d all worked together since they were kids. Could it be a son of someone from work? She picked up the phone, wanting to speculate with her sister. It was almost eleven, but she knew Karen would still be up, running the vacuum.

“What did the man look like?” Karen asked.

“He might have been Hispanic or Asian,” Kelly said. “Foreign. Tall. Black hair, high cheek bones, almond eyes. I couldn’t really tell because the light is dim on the porch and it was late. Anyway, like no one I know. Maybe late thirties.”

“Well, you’d better text me the minute he comes back because now I won’t sleep. I’m getting ready to take my shot so you know I’ll be up for a while.”

Kelly laughed heartily. Karen had a shot of vodka nightly, and Kelly’s concern for her sister’s liver was a running dialogue.

“Your husband will drink a six pack tonight. How good can that be for his liver?” Karen said. “Pour another glass of wine. You deserve it.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” she said, going to the fridge. “I’m going to do it right now.” She took the bottle out and poured a healthy glass of wine. “Okay, I’m all set. Thank you for listening.”

“Don’t forget to text me,” Karen said.

“I won’t. It might be late. He said an hour but who knows,” Kelly said.

She’d polish the furniture while drinking the wine.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said.




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Suzanne writes page-turning contemporary romance, mystery, and women's fiction with passionately gripping characters that stay with readers long after they turn the last page. The Detroit Detective Stories, beginning with The Greeks of Beaubien Street are a reflection of American fantasy with historical reality. Pam of Babylon books consistently rank in the Top 100 Best Sellers in American Drama with over 500,000 downloads. A retired operating room nurse, Jenkins lives in Southern California.

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Balance Check by M.E. Carter

Title: Balance Check
A #MyNewLife NovelAuthor: M.E. CarterGenre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Murphy Rae, Indie Solutions Release Date: August 18, 2017


Blurb
Life has a funny way of throwing you off balance.
Take me for example. I spent years in a bad marriage with a self-serving ass, only to have the love of my life show up when I least expected him. Greg helped me on my journey of self discovery and taught me that, no, I’m not perfect. But I’m perfectly me.  It was an amazing journey.
We laughed hard. We loved even harder.
And then he was suddenly and cruelly ripped away from me by the unclenching jaws of fate.
Ok, so it wasn’t that dramatic. And I really need to stop watching the Investigation Channel.
But now Greg is back and as it turns out, re-incorporating someone into your life isn’t that easy. Between jobs, kids, and barely-there friendships, life and love can be messy. Making it all work is a balancing act. 

But we’re determined to get it in check.

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Mother, reader, storyteller—ME Carter never set out to write books. But when a friend practically forced a copy of Twilight into her hands, the love of the written word she had lost as a child was rekindled. With a story always rolling around in her head, it should come as no surprise that she finally started putting them on paper. She lives in Texas with her four children, Mary, Elizabeth, Carter and Bug, who sadly was born long after her pen name was created, and will probably need extensive therapy because of it.

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