Cara Faith Donvovan's Blog, page 50

Chapter Release for In the Crease - Toni Aleo

Coming August 22nd

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Jensen Monroe is a unicorn. As handsome as any model, as polite as can be, a goalie of unmatched skill, and the best friend anyone could ask for. But he longs for a particular special someone to make his life complete. He’s been in love with Wren since he was a teenager, but as his best friend’s sister, she’s always been off-limits.

Wren Lemiere has prided herself on being a love ’em and leave ’em girl her whole life. She’s all about equal opportunity in the battle of the sexes. Why should guys like her brother and his best friends get to be the only ones allowed to play the dating game? One wrong move, however, and she finds herself in violation of her own rules.

In need of a fake husband and baby daddy for her unexpected bundle of joy, Wren finally accepts Jensen is the logical one to ask for help. Except he has a counteroffer…one with so many strings attached, they may just find themselves wrapped up in ties that bind. Forever.






Prologue

Five months earlier…

Wren Lemiere felt awful.
The kind of awful where you felt like you were dying.
Not that she had ever been the victim of an almost-death, but she was pretty sure it felt like what she was feeling.
Why she came back home to Colorado when she was this godforsakenly sick was beyond her, but then she hadn’t felt like death when she got on the plane. It was once she got off and for the following three days that the death hit her. She didn’t know what was going on, but she just wanted some drugs to make the excruciating nausea go away. That was all. Just some drugs.
Holding her face in her hands, she inhaled a deep breath before letting it out in a whoosh, begging the turning of her gut to stop. She wasn’t sure what she ate or what bacteria she picked up, but when she found out whatever did this to her, they would suffer. Slowly and painfully. It was probably Vaughn, her brother’s best friend. He was a walking cesspool. Ugh. She had never been so sick in her life, she swore it, but then again, that time she had the flu, she was sure she’d thought the same.
Either way, she was dying.
Plain and simple.
“Ugh,” she moaned as she swallowed back the bile that was threatening to come up her throat. When the door opened and the doctor stepped in, she cried out in relief. “Please, give me something. Anything. Knock me out if you have to.”
Ryan Churner laughed. They had gone to school together, dated briefly, but they’d been just kids. Now, he was married and happy—with lots of kids of his own. Wren, though, was living the single, carefree life. Much to her mother’s dismay. Her mother wanted grandbabies, and since her brother, Wells, was gay, it was easy to say it was Wren’s job to give her mother babies. Which was not going to happen. Wren would suck as a mom. Plus, she couldn’t find a decent guy to love her large ass. So that left her brother, and Wells could adopt. Yeah, he should do that. Take some of the pressure off her. She needed to call him about that.
“I’m afraid there are no drugs for what you have.”
Wren threw up her hands. “It’s a virus?”
He laughed. She didn’t like the sound of that laugh. Or the way he said, “Um, no.”
Her face wrinkled in confusion. “Then, what?”
He grimaced a bit before looking up at her. His dark blue eyes held her gaze as a grin pulled at his lips. “When was your last period?”
She shrugged. “Like six months ago. I have polycystic ovary syndrome, though.” She added while pointing at him, “Not sure that’s in my chart.”
He nodded. “It is, but I hadn’t realized it had been that long.”
“Yeah.” She had maybe two periods a year, possibly three. It was a problem, but her problem. One she was blessed with when she was younger. Her PCOS kept her a little on the thicker side and also wreaked havoc on her hormones, but she managed. She wasn’t going to let it bring her down or dwell on it. She already did that enough.
“Okay, well, are you in a relationship right now?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Are you sexually active?”
“Always,” she said with an exaggerated wink. Then she paused. “Wait, I’m not hitting on you.”
“I know.” He laughed and she grinned, though, it was brief before she felt a wave of queasiness. “But your pregnancy test came up positive.”
Wren could only blink as her body went cold. She started laughing because surely, she’d heard him wrong. “You weren’t this funny when we were younger.”
“I’m not joking.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your pregnancy test came up positive, but sometimes with PCOS, you can get a positive result. So I want to do an ultrasound.”
“For what?”
“To see if you’re pregnant.”
“Pregnant? Me?”
“Yes.”
“But…really?”
“Yes,” he said with a smile before he stood, walking to the door. “Well, usually when you have sex, a baby can be made as a byproduct of all that passion.”
“But…” She trailed off, her heart jumping into her throat. Surely that wasn’t the case. She couldn’t be pregnant. They’d used protection. “I have sex with condoms, and I’m on birth control.”
“Are you consistent with your birth control?
She shrugged. “Sure.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not believable, Wren.”
Her face wrinkled more as he called out to the nurse. Sitting there, she tried to remember when this could have happened. She was home last month and had seen him…a lot and all of him, but they’d used condoms. Hadn’t they? Shit.
Soon a cart was brought in, and she was asked to take off her pants. It was all a blur, lying there with a drape over her bottom half and Ryan shoving some damn probe up inside her. Staring at the ceiling, she didn’t know what to think. She hadn’t even thought this was a possibility. With her PCOS, it was supposed to be hard for her to get pregnant. Not to mention, she didn’t want to be a mom. She would suck as a mom. And he would suck as a dad. They were selfish.
“Yup, there it is.”
Turning her head, she looked at the screen to see a little peanut. Seriously, a peanut, or at least, that’s what she assumed it was. But in the middle of the peanut was a little flicker. It was so small, almost undetectable, but she was sure she could see it. Was that the heartbeat?
“That’s it? I’m pregnant?”
“You’re pregnant.”
Blinking hard, she gasped. “Oh, fuck.”

~*~

“I’m pregnant.”
The words felt funky.
“I am pregnant,” she said to her reflection in the rental car’s visor mirror. “We’re having a baby.” She tried saying it while waving her hands. But that felt weird too.
Holy shit, she was pregnant.
She was almost thirty. She had a good job, and she was in a good place. It was not even the least bit expected, nor was it good timing since she wasn’t thirty yet, nor was she married. But it was fine. They would get a quickie marriage, and bam, they’d be good. No one would have to know she was pregnant before they decided to elope. It would be fine. Everything would be fine; her inheritance wasn’t in jeopardy.
But, shit, she didn’t want to move back to Colorado. She would have to because he wouldn’t be able to leave his job. He owned the damn firm, while she was contracted by the Nashville Assassins, the professional hockey team back in Nashville, Tennessee. Her gig was awesome, so damn awesome, and she loved it, but it wouldn’t work. She’d have to be the one to move. Damn it. She’d finish out the season for sure, but that meant she couldn’t sign the five-year extension that was sitting on her desk back home. With the lovely bonus that was going to pay off her car early. Damn it.
She wasn’t sure how he was going to take it, but they were good. They had known each other their whole lives. Been fucking for years, so it was time. She loved him. Ish. Kinda. Well, obviously a little since she continued to sleep with him, but he was a cool dude. And even if marriage was the last thing she wanted, she knew she had to do it.
She needed the money from her inheritance that her dad was holding, which had been passed down from her grandfather. When she turned thirty in October, it would be hers. The only catch was she couldn’t have a baby out of wedlock before she was thirty. It was stupid, and it was barbaric in her opinion. But it was what her grandfather had written up, and her father was standing behind it. It was annoying, to say the least, but if she wanted to pay off all her debt and live pretty damn comfortably for the rest of her life, along with providing a comfortable life for Wells, she had to do what she had to do.
She just hoped he didn’t let her down.
Getting out of the car, she swallowed hard as she walked toward the doors that read Washington, Fieldsman, and Barnes. When she opened the door, she was greeted by the receptionist, and Wren shot her a quick, curt smile. She was nervous. Why was she nervous? Crap, was she going to puke?
Yup.
Dipping into the bathroom before his office, she threw up the rest of her guts and sat there shaking her head. “You’re lucky I love you, kid.”
Wow, that was quick.
Wren had never seen herself as a mother. She’d thought she was going to grow old with lots of money and dogs. She hadn’t seen love or babies in her future. She’d seen lots of fucking, but that was about it. She didn’t have the best luck in love and really hadn’t imagined this coming, but now, she saw herself holding a baby.
Problem was, she still didn’t see him in her picture.
But that would change…right?
Surely.
Crap.
Washing her mouth out and then popping some gum, she walked out of the bathroom and right into another person. “Ah!”
“Crap! I’m sorry, Wren.”
Wren clammed up. Shit. “Hey, Shanna. What you doing here?”
“I had to see Bradley. What are you doing?” her best friend for her whole life asked.
Dammit, Wren hated lying to her.
“I have a meeting with him. He has to go over my contract for the Assassins.”
Shanna lit up. “Cool! Are you still coming for dinner tonight?”
Wren was shaking. Why was she shaking? Shit. “Shan, I texted you. I had to move my flight up, remember?”
“Oh, yes. My bad. Next time.”
“Of course,” she said before Shanna embraced her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Wren knew she would have to tell her. But Bradley had wanted to keep them under wraps. Plus, Wren knew how overprotective Shanna was of her baby brother. Wren had known better, but the dude was hung like a horse and hot to boot. She just hoped she wouldn’t lose a friendship over this. But Shanna would be excited. They’d be sisters like they’d always wanted, and there’d be a new baby. Shanna would love that.
Right?
Right.
Don’t freak out. This is fine.
Saying goodbye, Wren waved as she walked toward his office before knocking on the door. “Come in.” As she opened the door to the huge, posh office, he stood behind his desk, looking every bit as gorgeous as the day was long. His suit was pressed and clung to him. His blond-brown hair was brushed to the side, while a bit of stubble dusted his jaw. She only saw it because the sun was kissing it, shining on it ever so sweetly. He was a good-looking man, beautiful even, but still, she couldn’t see herself married to him. Shit.
Wren smiled though, and when Bradley looked up, heat filled his gaze. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” she said, shutting the door as he came around the desk to her. Gathering her in his arms, he kissed her hard on the lips, dipping her back slightly as she clung to him. This had to work. He was a great guy.
Pulling back, he kissed her nose. “You look hot.”
She laughed, waving him off. “I look and feel like death.”
“Still?” he asked, concern filling his handsome face. He was a year younger than her, and growing up, they’d called him the baby. Though, he didn’t look like a baby. When he had first kissed her, eons ago, she hadn’t expected it. And even though they had both been with other people over the years, they somehow always gravitated back to each other.
Always.
But that was about to change.
“Yeah. I went to the doctor today.”
Moving his thumb along the inside of her palm, he smiled. “Is it contagious?”
She shook her head, her face filling with heat. “No.”
“Oh, good,” he said, gathering her in his arms and pressing his lips to hers. “So we can take this discussion to the couch.”
She stopped him as he tried to pull her to where she knew they would likely have all kinds of hot sex, but she needed to get this out. “Not yet.”
His brows pulled together. “What’s wrong? Don’t feel up to it?”
She swallowed hard. “It’s not that. It’s…um…” Inhaling deeply, she met his gaze. The gaze she had known her whole life. Though right now, she felt like she was going to puke, her nerves were so bad. “I’m pregnant.”
She watched as his eyes widened, his jaw dropping before he dropped her hands. “Pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
He only blinked. “Is it mine?”
She nodded. “You’re the only guy I’ve been with for the last six months.”
He blinked once more, his eyes burning into hers. “Are you sure?”
She gave him a deadpan look. “I think I’d remember if I happen to fall, pussy first, on a cock other than yours.”
He didn’t laugh like she wanted, nor did he look her in the eye. Instead, he chewed his lip, looking anywhere but at her. “So, no other chance it isn’t mine?”
Her brows drew in. “It’s yours, Bradley.”
Turning his back to her, he walked away, going to the windows as he looked out of them, his hands folded across his chest. “I didn’t expect this. We used condoms.”
“I know.”
“And you’re on birth control, I thought.”
“I am, though I don’t take it as often as I should.”
He looked over at her. “So you trapped me?”
She glared. “You’d better be joking.”
He didn’t answer; he just looked away as her heart started to speed up.
This didn’t feel right.
As he started to pace, she watched him, her blood beginning to boil. She didn’t like his comment, nor did she like the way he wouldn’t look at her. Clearing her throat, she watched him as she said, “Okay, well, I know this is a lot at once, and it’s a lot for me too. But we have something that could pose an issue—my inheritance.”
His face wrinkled up as he snapped, “How does that have anything to do with me?”
She glared at the side of his face. “It has to do with you because your baby is inside of me, and I’m not thirty yet. So if I have this baby before I turn thirty and I’m not married, I’m fucked.”
“Then don’t have the baby.”
Her jaw dropped. Actually dropped, almost catching flies. “Excuse me?”
Still looking out the window, he shrugged. “Go get an abortion.”
“What?”
“Listen, I don’t want this. I don’t want a kid, and fuck, this is going to mess everything up.”
Her heart was in her throat. “Mess up what?
Turning to her, he yelled, “I’m marrying fucking Fieldsman’s daughter.”
It was as if he’d hit her. Reaching out, she braced her hand on the window. He had been seeing the girl, but he swore it wasn’t serious. They were just cool; it was business as he said. But marriage? “What? You said you didn’t want to get married.”
“I know, but I have no choice.”
“You do. You can marry me and help out the mother of your child.”
“No, I can’t. I was going to tell you tonight, that we had to break this off. For good.”
Drawing in a breath through her nose, she shook her head. “Wow.”
“Yeah. So listen,” he said, walking around her and to his desk, but she didn’t move as the tears gathered in her eyes. “Go get an abortion. It’s for the best. Here, this should cover it.”
When she opened her eyes, he was filling out a check before holding it out to her. Shaking her head hard, she muttered, “I don’t want your money.”
“Take it, Wren. Please. I can’t have this fuck up what I’ve got going for me. I’ll have more stock in this firm once I marry her.”
Her lip started to tremble. “But I’m having your baby.”
“I don’t want it,” he said simply. “I don’t want any of it. She will get pissed. She’s already so jealous and thinks I’m fucking around.”
“You are!”
“I know, but not anymore. So, please, get rid of it.”
“I can’t.”
“Wren, come on!”
“You can’t do this. We’ve known each other our whole life.”
“I understand that. So please do it.”
“No.”
“Don’t be stupid, because I’ll deny it. You fuck around. Everyone knows it, and I’ll deny the kid is mine. You’ll have to take me to court to prove it. But by the time that happens, you’ll already have it before your thirtieth birthday, so you’ll be fucked anyway. Just do the right thing. Get rid of it, Wren.”
She wouldn’t let her tears fall. Not for this fucking douche. “I thought I knew you, you selfish asshole.”
The words didn’t even faze him. He glared at her. “I thought I knew you. How could you let this happen? We were never serious. We were just fucking.”
Looking down at the ground, she bit into her lip to keep the tears from falling. Yeah, he was right, but she thought she’d meant more to him than just a fuck. “Just fucking, huh?”
“Yeah, it isn’t like we love each other. I mean, come on. You’re not even my type.”
“Your type?”
“Wren, come on,” he said simply, holding his hands out. “You’re not trophy wife material.”
She was going to deck him. “I can’t believe this.”
“Just take the check.”
He held it out once more, and her eyes landed on it through her tears. She should take it. It really was the only option, yet she knew she couldn’t.
Meeting his gaze, she swallowed hard as she shook her head slowly from side to side. “No.”
“Wren, don’t be an idiot.”
“No.”
“You’re being fucking stupid—”
Standing erect, she stepped over to him, her eyes burning into his and completely cutting off his words. She was sure her eyes were full of heat, full of rage because his words shook her. To the core. She wasn’t sure who this man was, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be the father of her child. Over her dead fucking body. “Fuck you, Bradley. I don’t need your money or even you. So. Fuck. You.”
And with that, she walked away.
With no clue what she was going to do now.
Except for the certainty that she wasn’t killing her baby.


My name is Toni Aleo and I’m a total dork.
I am a wife, mother of two and a bulldog, and also a hopeless romantic.
I am the biggest Shea Weber fan ever, and can be found during hockey season with my nose pressed against the Bridgestone Arena’s glass, watching my Nashville Predators play!
When my nose isn’t pressed against the glass, I enjoy going to my husband and son’s hockey games, my daughter’s dance competition, hanging with my best friends, taking pictures, scrapbooking, and reading the latest romance novel.
I have a slight Disney and Harry Potter obsession, I love things that sparkle, I love the color pink, I might have been a Disney Princess in a past life… probably Belle.
… and did I mention I love hockey?

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Thanks for joining us at Tears of Crimson. Home to Bestselling Author Michelle Hughes,and all the Friends of Crimson!

Chapter Reveal - Drew Elyse Combust

Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.

Man whore.
Ex-con.
All-around asshole.

Daz is called a lot of seedy things.

But his brothers know there’s more to him

even if it is buried deep beneath the surface.


A Disciple will fight like a savage and never give up.



As a stripper, Avery is no stranger to judgment.

That doesn't stop her from assuming Daz is nothing more than a hot body, though.

But when tragedy lets her see behind the cocky-jackass exterior,

there's no denying the truth.


For this biker to go down, there has to be more than sparks—he needs full combustion.









Coming August 24th






Chapter 1
Avery

“Fuck, this thing doesn’t fit right. One of my nuts is going to bust out in the middle of a song.”
The third Thursday of the month was always the weirdest—and easily the most frustrating—day of work for me. Or, at least, it had been for the last six of them. Working in strip clubs since I was nineteen, I’d long ago reached the point where little phased me. I imagined it was kind of like being a gynecologist. At first, it had to be super awkward to be all up in women’s vaginas all day, but after a while, you’re just desensitized to it.
After six years of working with women who took their clothes off for a living, and doing the same myself, I’d been pretty sure I had seen and heard it all. Once you have a coworker come up to you and ask you to look at her blotchy, red crotch because she’s having an allergic reaction to body glitter, you start to think there are no surprises left in the world.
Then, the friendly neighborhood motorcycle club buys the joint and institutes a shocking—though, admittedly, genius—plan to have an all-male revue once a month.
That alone had been jarring enough. If I were to name the changes I thought might have been coming when the Savage Disciples MC took over, it would have been going fully nude. I’d stripped in four states, so I knew a thing or two about the industry. Part of that knowledge being Oregon was one of the most lax states in the country when it came to strip clubs. Unlike most, they allowed full nudity in clubs that served alcohol.
Candy Shop hadn’t taken advantage of that, though. The club’s previous owner had been staunch to the ideal that fully nude dancers and liquored up customers were a recipe for headaches. He also insisted any added income that might have come from having us take it all off was pointless because it’d be eaten up by having to hire more security. Rick Remington—that was his real name, though he would never answer me when I tried to find out if he’d been born with it or changed it once he decided his career path—wasn’t cheap. He didn’t skimp on security or anything else when it came to his girls. Of all the clubs I’d worked in, he was by far my favorite manager. So, if he was going to have us up there completely nude, he would absolutely have beefed up on bouncers. As it was, our security was unrivaled.
I’d been mildly surprised when the MC decided to keep this stance on how to run the club. It was also good news. I might have six years of regularly being on a stage in just a thong, but that didn’t mean I was ready for that last bit of coverage to disappear. I also wasn’t itching to go job hunting.
What had shocked me was the announcement about male revue night. It was a surprising move anywhere, but coming from a bunch of bikers just made the move even more so.
That decision was how my third Thursdays changed from being a shift starting at six in the evening involving just me dancing, to starting at eleven in the morning wrangling seven fussy males who caused more headaches in a single day than the girls managed the rest of the month combined.
“JJ, it fits fine. We measured you for it and had it custom made. Your goods are the same size they were three weeks ago,” I tried for a patient tone. And failed. JJ just brought it out of me.
“You never know, Cherry Pie,” he drawled back at me, giving me a smile that had most of our female customers creaming their panties, if the money they threw at him was any indication. Unfortunately for him, since he’d been trying to get into my panties since he started, it did nothing for me.
Sure, I might have appreciated the view at first, but that was before he opened his mouth and the endless stream of bullshit and whining started flowing out.
“Honey, you have nothing in that banana hammock that interests me. I promise. It could grow six inches by tomorrow, and I still won’t be dropping to my knees for you.”
“Shot down!” one of the other guys, Brock, chimed in.
“Seriously, asking as a concerned friend, when was the last time you got some?” JJ kept at me. “Dick, pussy, both? Whatever gets you there.”
I gave him a look that told him straight up we were not those type of friends. Though, I couldn't help but think it’d been a lot longer than I would have cared to admit even if we were. And the “some” I got wasn’t worth writing home about. Hell, even that was an exaggeration. I hadn’t gotten off, and I’d eventually faked it just to get it over with. For a man who hadn’t been overly well-endowed, it had been a pounding in the least appealing sense. I’d been sore by the time I decided it was best just to put on a show and get out of there.
“We don’t have time for your shit today. Did you work on the routine I showed you last week?” I asked, bringing JJ back to the task at hand.
“Yes, ma’am.”
As cocky as he was, I believed him. JJ loved this gig, and he surprisingly always took it seriously. He was never one of the guys I had to worry about not practicing when I gave them new material. Personally, I thought he was trying to prove how lucrative the club would be in some hope the Disciples might have seen the wisdom of expanding and giving him a full time gig of taking money from horny women.
The way the line wrapped around the building on ladies’ nights, with women coming all the way out from Portland for the show, I wasn’t sure this would be a bad move.
“Good. Let’s see it,” I ordered, then hit a button on the remote in my hand to cue up the track. Roth, our DJ, wouldn’t be in until closer to opening.
JJ got on with his routine, hitting everything as expected and proving the G-string he had on definitely wouldn’t be an issue.
Halfway through, the front door opened, letting in a stream of sunlight from outside. I glanced over my shoulder, saying a silent prayer—in case God chose to tune in to prayers coming out of strip clubs.
Whether it was my pleas being answered or just a coincidence, I didn’t really care. All that mattered was the man walking in the club wasn’t the person I feared it might be. These Thursdays were trying enough without him around.
Instead, it was another one of the Savage Disciple brothers, Ham.
“Fuck, I shoulda known those assholes sent me here to find you because it was fuckin’ sausagefest day,” he muttered as he dropped his eyes from the stage. His voice notched even lower, but he headed my way, so I caught his words as he said, “Max would just love this shit.”
Outside of them running the club, I hadn’t interacted with any of the Disciples, so I had no idea who Max was.
“Avery,” Ham greeted as he got close, notably positioning himself near me so his back was to the stage where JJ was still grinding and thrusting away.
Ham was easily one of the biggest men I’d ever seen in my life. He had to be a foot taller than my five-five, and seemed to be twice as wide—that width being made up of enough muscle to make me think he could replace the entire security staff by himself.
“What’s up?”
“We’re gonna shut down to the public on the fifteenth. Private party. Need you to get a small group together to do a show that night. Girls will be compensated at double time, plus the generous end of a normal weekend night’s tips. Yeah?”
Damn, that was a good deal. It was also the kind of thing that bred drama from girls who weren’t chosen.
“How many do you want?”
“Five? Ish.” He shrugged. “Let you make the final call.”
I really, truly, didn’t want to make the final call. Picking five girls was already going to be hard enough, and I was going to have to be sure they were all ones who would keep their traps shut about this to those who didn’t make the cut.
I’d worked hard to prove I could, and should, do more than just be on stage. I’d been paying my dues in every club I’d worked in. It wasn’t that I’d always dreamed of being a manager at a strip club, but life wasn’t always about what you wanted. Sometimes, it was about making the most of what you had. At nineteen, stripping was the best income I could make, so I went with it. Now, I knew I could hack it running the show, and I was determined to prove that.
I liked being in my position. In particular, I liked the pay raise and the fact that I only danced on weekends. My hope was I’d be able to cut out even those limited hours on stage before long. Still, there were times I yearned for the days when I wasn’t responsible for dealing with all the drama.
JJ’s routine ended, the music cutting out and another song not filling the void. With the room significantly quieter, I let myself focus on him to keep my afternoon on schedule.
“Good,” I announced, having watched even while Ham spoke. As expected, JJ hadn’t missed a beat. “You have your schedule for tonight?”
“Got it, babe.” He really was quite a sight—muscled, sweaty, and nearly naked. That still didn’t mean I wanted the endearment.
“Then get off my stage.”
My attitude didn’t dull his flirty smile for a second as he moved to the stage exit. “Get Adam out here,” I called at his retreating back. He threw a thumbs up over his shoulder as he disappeared, and I moved my attention to Ham.
“Got it. Five girls. Do you want a list of names in advance?”
“Not necessary. We’ve got bartenders and Roth handled, so you just make sure you’ve got girls lined up and we’re good.”
“Right. I’ll take care of it.”
Ham gave his own brand of flirty smile. Unlike JJ’s that was meant to entice, Ham’s was more along the lines of “I know I can make you scream for me.” It was more effective, but seemingly subconscious. It was as natural to him as breathing, not an effort to get attention. If the gossip I overheard from the other girls was right, he had a woman and he didn’t stray.
Good for him.
With a nod, he started heading out, still pointedly keeping his eyes away from the stage and the couple guys hanging around in the main room half-naked. After a couple steps, he stopped and turned back to me.
“Make sure your own name is on that list,” he tacked on. “The guest of honor will be disappointed if it isn’t.”
The knowing grin he had when he said that left no question as to who that guest was.
Daz.
One of the Disciples, also the one who took charge of the shop—as everyone had taken to calling it. From what I could tell, it was his idea to buy the place when Rick decided to sell. He wasn’t an uncommon face around here even before that. Now, he was in all the time.
He was also hot as sin and constantly in my space. For whatever reason, I had become a point of interest for him. He was flirty with all the girls—I guessed he might be flirty with any female regardless of interest—but it was always a passive thing, until he got near me. Then, it was no holds barred. One way or another, he always made his interest very clear. Too bad for him, I wasn't sleeping with the boss. I never had, and I never would.
Ham knew how much the request would irritate me, it was precisely why he looked so pleased with himself. More importantly, he also knew I wouldn’t say no.
“Right,” I replied shortly.
“Just gonna say,” Ham started, that shit-eating grin not going anywhere, “if you’re ever plannin’ to throw the asshole a bone, it’ll be his birthday.”
With that, he finally walked away, weaving through the tables and out the front door without turning back.
Looks like you’ll be dancing for Daz. My brain decided to dwell on that fact even as I instructed Adam to get on stage and cued up the song for him. It wasn’t like I had never done so before. Still, somehow I knew this was going to be different. I just hoped “different” wasn’t going to blow up in my face.





Drew Elyse spends her days trying to convince the world that she is, in fact, a Disney Princess, and her nights writing tear-jerking and smutty romance novels. Her debut novel, Dissonance, released in August of 2014.

When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found over-analyzing every line of a book, binge watching a series on Netflix, doing strange vocal warm ups before singing a variety of music styles, or screaming at the TV during a Chicago Blackhawks game.

A graduate of Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English, she still lives in Chicago, IL where she was born and raised with her boyfriend and her prima donna pet rabbit, Lola.
Author Links
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Mine to Keep - Jenika Snow

Amazon


























The world that was once known is gone. In its place is a society where the rich rule, and the female population are auctioned off to the highest bidder.

I am more primitive than most, living off the grid and surviving on my own. I am a loner, a man who has needs and desires, and I am about to do something about it.

I may not be wealthy enough to purchase a female for myself, but I’ll have one as mine regardless.
And anyone who tries to stop me will see exactly the type of man I am, and the lengths I’ll go to claim a woman as my own.

SANSA

I lost the only two people I loved, my parent who hid me away from a barbaric society that wanted nothing more than to sell my body.

Being alone was consuming, and I didn’t know how much more I could take.

Then I found myself injured, on the verge of unconsciousness, and in the middle of nowhere. When I wake I’m in a strange cabin, and the man who is just feet from me looks at me as if he owns me.

He’s big, strong and muscular, and seems more animal than human.
And he’s told me I’m his now.


Warning: This story is fast, hot, and leaves nothing to the imagination. It features an over-the-top, caveman alpha male who wants his heroine as only his, and nothing will stop him from making that happen. Oh, did I mention the hero and heroine are both virgins *wink*. Lock your bedroom door, because this is one story you’ll want to read alone.




























Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.



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Exes with Benefits by Nicole Williams - Cover Reveal

Coming September 18th

Amazon NookiBooks








He wants a second chance. I want a divorce. To get what I want, I’ll have to give him what he does.


From New York Times & USA Today bestselling author, Nicole Williams, comes a new standalone romance in the same vein as Roommates with Benefits.









Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time. Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.
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Absinthe by Winter Renshaw - Chapter Reveal

The name on the screen was “Absinthe.”

I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the best phone sex I never knew I could have.

We’d never met.

Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, “They said you wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?”




Coming August 8th







Prologue


Ford

“You wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?”
I know that voice. I’d know it anywhere.
Glancing up from my desk, I find a girl in skintight athletic leggings and a low-cut tank top standing in my office doorway, her full lips wrapped around a shiny sucker and a familiar electric jade gaze trained on me.
It’s her.
The woman I spent most of all summer chatting with under the anonymous veil of a dating app—one in specifically meant for adults seeking connections but not commitment. I purchased a stock photo for seven dollars, chose a pseudonym, Kerouac, and messaged a woman by the name of Absinthe who quoted Hemingway in her bio when everyone else quoted Nickelback and John Legend.
Fuck.
Me.
“You must be Halston.” My skin is on fire. I stand, smooth my tie, and point to the seat across from me. I never knew her name, but I’d know that voice anywhere. I can’t even count how many times I came to the sound of her breathy rasp describing all the wicked things she’d do to me if we ever met, reading me excerpts from Rebecca. “Take a seat.”
She takes her time pulling the sucker from her mouth before strutting to my guest chair, lowering herself, cleavage first, and crossing her long legs. The tiniest hint of a smirk claims her mouth, but if she knows it’s me, she’s sure as hell not acting like it.
“You want to tell me what happened with Mrs. Rossi?” I ask, returning to my seat and folding my hands on my desk.
I may be a lot of things; overconfident prick, allergic to commitment, red-blooded American man …
But I’m a professional first.
“Mrs. Rossi and I had an argument,” Halston says. “We were discussing the theme of The Great Gatsby, and she was trying to say that it was about chasing the elusive American dream. I told her she missed the entire fucking point of one of the greatest pieces of literature in existence.” She takes another suck of her candy before continuing, then points it in my direction. “The real theme has to do with manipulation and dishonesty, Principal Hawthorne. Everyone in that book was a fucking liar, most of all Jay, and in the end, he got what he deserved. They all did.”
My cock strains against the fabric of my pants. It’s her voice. It’s her goddamned sex-on-fire voice that’s doing this to me. That and her on point dissection of classic American literature. Sexy, intelligent, outspoken. Three elusive qualities I’ve yet to find in another human being. Until her. And knowing that now, I couldn’t even have her if I wanted her, isn’t doing me any favors. If I don’t compose myself, I’m going to be hard as a fucking rock.
“Language,” I say. The room is growing hotter now, but I keep a stern, undeterred presence.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m an adult, Principal Hawthorne. I can say words like fuck.”
“Not in my office, you can’t.” I exhale. “And not in class either. That’s why Mrs. Rossi sent you here.”
“The jackass behind me was drawing swastikas on his notebook, but I get sent down here for saying ‘fuck.’” Her head shakes.
“I’ll discuss that with Mrs. Rossi privately.” I scribble a note to myself and shove it aside.
“You’re really young for a principal.” Her charged gaze drags the length of me. “Did you just graduate from college or something?”
Six years of school and two years of teaching place me in the budding stages of a career shaping and educating the minds of tomorrow’s leaders, but I refuse to dignify her question with a response.
“My age is irrelevant,” I say.
“Age is everything.” She twirls a strand of pale hair around her finger, her lips curling up in the corners. The cute-and-coy shtick must work on everyone else, but it’s not going to work on me. Not here anyway. And not anymore.
“I said my age is irrelevant.”
“Am I the first student you’ve ever had to discipline?” She sits up, crossing and uncrossing her legs with the provocative charm of a 1940s pin up. “Wait, are you going to discipline me?”
I take mental notes for her file.
-       Challenges authority
-       Difficulty conducting herself appropriately
-       Possible boundary issues
“I’m not going to punish you, Halston. Consider this a verbal warning.” I release a hard breath through my nose as I study her, refusing to allow my eyes to drift to the soft swell of her breasts casually peeking out of her top. Knowing her so intimately over the phone, and being in her presence knowing she’s completely off limits, makes it difficult to maintain my unshaken demeanor. “From now on, I’d like you to refrain from using curse words while on school grounds. It’s disruptive to the other students who are here to actually glean something from their high school education.”
“I don’t know.” Her lips bunch at the corner, and she fights a devilish grin. “I mean, I can try, but ‘fuck’ is one of my favorite words in the English language. What if I can’t stop saying it? Then what?”
“Then we’ll worry about that when the time comes,” I say.
“You could always bend me over your knee and spank me.” She rises, wrapping her lips around the sucker before plucking it out of her mouth with a wet pop. “Or maybe you could fuck my brains out and break my heart.”
“Excuse me?” My skin heats, but I refuse to let her see that she’s having any kind of effect on me.
“You’re him,” she says, as if it’s some ace she’s been keeping up her sleeve this entire time. “You’re Kerouac.”
I’m at an extraordinary loss for words, trying to wrap my head around all the ways this could go very fucking wrong for me.


Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.
And if you'd like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here ---> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j

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Keeping her Close - Dani Wyatt (Cover Reveal)

Coming July 28th

Black Rousseau has honored the code and kept his distance from the one thing in this world that means something to him. But things are about to change.   Black’s just received the blessing he’s been waiting for since the moment he set eyes on his boss’ daughter.


Growing up in the biker bar her father owned, Roxie Lear dreams of getting out of Hell, Michigan. The only other thing she’s always wanted is Black Rousseau. But he treats her like she doesn’t exist.  Until the day her father goes to prison, that is. And Black lets her know what’s been boiling behind his cool indifference all these years.


Will Black’s preparations to claim Roxie once and for all be too much for her?  Will the darkness inside of him frighten away the only thing in this world he’s ever needed?



Author note:   This alpha is a little dark and a bit brutal but he cherishes what is his.  As always, this story is safe/no cheating with the perfect happy ending.  Strap on your wrist cuffs and your safe word, this hot quickie of a smutty read will have you questioning your morals and wiggling in your seat.














Dani Wyatt loves her alpha men; make them military, cowboys, MMA -- any uber alpha with a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Receive a free exclusive unpublished title when you join Dani's private readers group for updates, free chapters and discounts.http://eepurl.com/bubxzz
She's a 40 something regular lady who just happens to love badass alpha males who pull your hair and love their women with a lethal passion.
When she's not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can't have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day. Author Links Facebook  Amazon page  Goodreads









Thanks for joining us at Tears of Crimson. Home to Bestselling Author Michelle Hughes,and all the Friends of Crimson!

Absinthe - Winter Renshaw (Cover Reveal)

The name on the screen was “Absinthe.”

I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the best phone sex I never knew I could have.

We’d never met.

Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, “They said you wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?”




Coming August 8th







































Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.
And if you'd like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here ---> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j

Author Links
Goodreads Facebook  Amazon















Thanks for joining us at Tears of Crimson. Home to Bestselling Author Michelle Hughes,and all the Friends of Crimson!

The Rhubarb Patch - Deanna Wadsworth

Title: The Rhubarb PatchAuthor: Deanna WadsworthGenre: M/M ContemporaryRelease Date: July 24, 2017 City boy, sci-fi novelist, and recovering pushover Scott Howe doesn’t know what to expect when he inherits his grandmother’s house outside the quaint village of Gilead, Ohio—but it isn’t an enormous bald man in nothing but tighty-whities and orange rubber boots shouting at him to keep his weed wacker away from the rhubarb patch. Scott has never met anyone like Phineas Robertson: homesteader, recluse… Republican. A tender—if unlikely—friendship grows over the summer while Phin and his schnauzer, Sister Mary Katherine, teach Scott about life in the country and the grandmother he never knew. Opposites attract, but widower Phin worries his secret will send Scott running faster than his politics, and Phin isn’t convinced he deserves a second chance at romance.Scott is convinced—rural life, and his one-of-a-kind, older neighbor, is the future he wants. Before he can settle in, his mother drops a bombshell that strains their already tenuous relationship, and a cousin who believes he is the rightful heir to the property puts Scott in danger. It’ll take a lot of compromises, and even dodging a few bullets before they’re out of the weeds, but nurturing something as special as true love always takes hard work.
Chapter One“What the…?”A big, bald man in nothing but orange rubber boots and tighty-whities streaked across the yard toward Scott Howe, waving his hands and shouting.The high-pitched whir of the weedwacker shredding through the grass and thick, leafy weeds growing along the edge of the small barn went silent when Scott released the handle. Popping out his earbuds, he blinked hard, unable to believe his eyes.“Stop! Stop!” the man in his underwear shouted. “You’re killing the rhubarb!”Instinctively, Scott placed the weedwacker in front of him, wielding it like a knight brandishing a sword against an attacking dragon.At five eight, Scott wasn’t exactly a small guy, but he wasn’t taking any chances.“Stop, dammit!” The man flailed his arms above his head.Then Scott registered his words.Keeping the weedwacker in front of him with one arm, he raised the other in truce. “I stopped!”Scott divided glances between the crazy man and the bits of grass and dark green leaves. All kinds of weeds grew around his late grandmother’s property, making the yard look like crap. Whether he decided to stay or sell the place, it needed a major spring cleanup.“What the hell are you doing?” The man came to a halt, all but shoving Scott out of the way. He knelt on the ground and began pushing aside the grass. “Dammit, you probably killed this one!”
What’s he talking about?

Scott took a step away as the man in his underwear and orange garden boots hopelessly muttered under his breath, gently picking up the curly green weeds.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry.” Scott brushed his arm across his forehead before sweat ran into his eyes. “I didn’t know this was your property. The realtor told me my property line was five feet past this barn.”The man stared, bright blue eyes scrunched with incredulity. “It’s not my property, but it is my rhubarb. Nancy and I’ve been growing it for years.”Scott flinched. “Oh, you knew my grandmother?”“Yes, she was my best friend, and you just killed some of our rhubarb.” His voice hitched, a twinge of desperation in his eyes.Not in anger but a deep, profound sadness that a hot wash of shame down Scott’s back.“I’m sorry, but….” He paused, not wanting to sound like a stupid city boy coming out to the country. “But what’s rhubarb?”Still on his knees, the peculiar man sat back on his haunches. Scott glanced at the guy’s lap, then darted his gaze back up before he noticed the faux pas—but not before taking note the guy was packing some real heat in those less-than-brand-new underwear.The man gestured to the shredded weeds. “That’s rhubarb. Well….” He pursed his lips. “It was rhubarb.” His broad shoulders slumped, the golden hairs of his chest sparkling a little in the morning sunshine.“I’m sorry,” Scott said again. “Are you sure I killed it?”He shook his head and flicked at the plant waste. He straightened a few curly leaves hidden among the shredded ones, but they collapsed. “This one’s done for.” He glanced down the twenty-foot length of the barn. “Thank God I saw you before you killed all of it.”Getting a little annoyed at this hulk of a man, Scott leaned on the weedwacker, his other hand on his hip. “Hey, I’m sorry you planted stuff on Nancy’s property. But how was I supposed to know? I just inherited this place, and I don’t even know what rhubarb is.”Those piercing blue eyes scoured Scott from head to toe, then back again. “I suspect you’re Scott.”
He knows my name? “Yes, I am.”
“Well, Scott, I’m Phineas Robertson.” He flipped a thumb over his big shoulder. “That’s my house, and this here’s my rhubarb patch.”“Hello, Phineas.” He gave the man a courteous nod, wondering if he should’ve called him Mr. Robertson, though he couldn’t be much older. But the guy had a big presence, an authority about him—even in his underwear—that could not be denied.When Phineas remained quiet, Scott grew awkward. “I’m sorry I weedwacked your rhubarb. Are there any other plants of yours growing on my property?”
Shit, that sounded kinda snotty.
Phineas put his hands on his hips, his fur-dusted belly rounding out. “No, just the rhubarb.”Feeling bad for sounding like a jerk, because Phineas was clearly distraught about the plants, Scott nodded. “Okay, so maybe you could show me what I can and can’t trim out of this section.”Hopefully the offer would create a neighborly truce.“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Phineas fixed his gaze on the shredded rhubarb, though to Scott it all looked like weeds.
I’m gonna have to google rhubarb.
Phineas climbed to his feet. “Here, let me show you what parts you can pull. I haven’t gotten around here to trim it up, what with the funeral and everything.”So Phineas had attended Nancy’s funeral. Well, that was more than could be said for Scott.Phineas towered a good six inches over Scott, and almost all of that burly frame was bare and exposed. Scott gestured to his state of dress—or lack thereof. “You sure you don’t wanna put on some pants first?”Awareness of being clad only in underwear and orange garden boots dawned bright across Phineas’s face. Glancing down, he gave a rather sheepish smile, which made him very appealing all of a sudden. “Yeah, I should probably do that.” He stood there for another moment before taking a few steps away. Then he paused, pointing at Scott. “Don’t cut anything until I get back.”“I won’t.”Then he stomped off rather proudly in his underwear and boots, tossing out over his shoulder, “If you weedwack the asparagus along the fence, you’ll regret it.”Scott shook his head and laughed.While Phineas walked away, Scott surveyed the three-acre property that had literally fallen into his lap.Feathery clouds streaked the pristine sky as if an artist’s brush had smeared a blue canvas with a wash of white. Everything was greening up with spring. The cute white farmhouse he’d inherited looked cheery, though it needed some work. It was connected to a one-car garage by an overhang, and the peaked roof with two dormers gave the two bedrooms upstairs odd slanted ceilings. Not in the best shape, nor the worst. Flowers already popped up in the mulched beds around the house and garage—a sign of brighter things coming my way, maybe?Smiling to himself, Scott flipped over a dirty old five-gallon pail by the corner of the barn. He took his iPhone out of his pocket and sat down. After unlocking the screen, he opened the Facebook app.
Nobody will believe this.
Since moving into the house three days ago, he’d been entertaining his Facebook friends and fans online with Country Updates. That was the only writing he was getting done these days, much to his editor’s chagrin. Country Update #4: You guys will never believe what just happened! I was weedwacking at the farm and suddenly I see this big, bald guy wearing nothing but his white skivvies and big rubber orange garden boots barreling towards me! LOL I guess he’s my neighbor. He’s been growing rhubarb along the barn, but I just weed whacked some. Whoops! LOL Now will somebody tell me what the hell rhubarb is? #truthisstrangerthanfiction #cityboyinthecountry Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. She has served multiple board positions at her local RWA chapter and is the current President 2017 for Rainbow Romance Writers of America. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries. a Rafflecopter giveaway HOSTED BY:
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Something so Perfect by Natasha Madison (Chapter Reveal)

Pre-order exclusively via iBooks
Coming July 31st















































Matthew

Drafted first round pick when I was seventeen, playing first line at eighteen, branded NHL's bad boy at nineteen. At twenty-three I was cut from the team and living back home with my parents. A knock on the door brought an opportunity I couldn’t turn down. All I had to do was prove I learned from my mistakes, so no way would I fall for a chick with a pouty mouth even if I wanted to spend all day devouring it.

Karrie

When my father gave me a job, I had no idea it would be to babysit some washed up NHL player. He wanted me to be his chaperone, his overpaid babysitter. I thought it was a joke. Then I met him, Matthew Grant. I wasn’t prepared for this particular bad boy. He’s not only hot but he’s arrogant and kinda sweet in a 'you make me crazy' kind of way.
Basically now that he’s finished screwing up his life, he’s decided to turn mine upside down.


She’s the first thing I’ve ever wanted more than hockey.

He’s the guy I know I should stay away from.

But what if this thing that started out so wrong turns into something so perfect?

























   Matthew Cooper Stone is my stepfather, the Cooper Stone who’s the best person to ever skate. He holds every single record that’s out there because he’s just that fucking good.    “What the fuck are you doing?”    I didn’t even have a chance to say hello before Cooper’s voice filled the room. I groaned and turned over to see that he was on speakerphone. My finger must have touched it by accident. “Matthew, seriously, I’m one second from flying out there and yanking you off the fucking ice.”     I was twenty-one and already being benched and scratched.    I was no chump. I was drafted first over all. The day still played in my mind. “The Los Angeles Royals choose Matthew Grant.” The minute my name was said, I sat there in shock while my little sister was yelling and my mother, Parker, had tears running down her cheeks while her face lit up with happiness and pride. Cooper was the first to grab me and stand me up.    “Go get that fucking jersey.” His voice was loud in my ear. My mother was next. “I’m so proud of you, Matthew, so, so proud.”    I kissed her cheek and walked down the stairs toward the stage from where the general manager, the owner, and the coach all looked at me. When I walked on stage, I tried to hold my tears in.    Taking the owner’s hand in mine, I shook it and thanked him. Putting that jersey on was surreal. Posing for pictures was a blur. I got so drunk that night I don’t remember much, except Cooper having to carry me inside while I pledged my love to my mother, my sister, and the trees around us.    Usually, once you get drafted, you start off on their farm team, but not me. I was on the starting line. I was up to my ears in silicone. There would be a different girl every night, everyone wanting to get a piece of me. The star of the team. Then my game started to slip. The late nights took a toll on me and my body. Three years later, I was sent down to the farm team. You’d think I would wake up, but no, not me. I just partied harder. I was on the front page of almost every single tabloid magazine that you could think of.    Every single summer I went back home, spending the time training hard with Cooper riding my ass, promising him that I was out of the party phase, but the minute my feet landed back in L.A., it was back to the booze and the puck bunnies. Another three years later, I was put on wavers. When no one picked me up, I packed up and went back home. For two years, I played hockey at home in charity games, till the GM from the New York Stingers came knocking at my door. Robert Western.    Cooper, Mom, and I sat down with him. My hands shook with nerves, my legs bouncing with happiness that someone actually wanted me.   “We want to offer him a one-year contract, with certain rules.” He eyed me and then Cooper. I knew Cooper had called in a favor.    “What is it?” I asked, holding my breath.    “Chaperone.”     I was about to get up and say fuck that when Cooper put his hand on mine and blurted out, “He’ll do it.”    I looked at him while he glared at me. My mother put a hand on top of her husband’s. United. Always.    Robert slapped his hands together. “Matthew, you, my friend, are going to bring another cup to New York.” He got up to shake my hand and then Cooper’s, slapping him on the arm. “Who knows, you may also knock this asshole off a throne or two.”    Cooper laughed out loud, but I knew he would be the one egging me on, the one daring me to push him off. He would also be the first one coming to congratulate me if I ever did it.    He had come into my life when I’d needed a male figure the most. I just hadn’t known it. He showed me that you can fall in love with your whole heart and everything will fall into place. He showed me that you fight for what you want. But most of all, he showed me that love is a gift and once it’s given, you cherish it.    So now here I am on the plane getting ready to land in New York. I have to meet the owner of the team and the PR people tomorrow at noon. I scroll through my social media sites while I wait for the doors to open. My sister is tagging me in old photos of us from Mom and Cooper’s wedding. Feels like it was just yesterday. When you see the way Cooper looks at my mother, you know he loves her with all his heart. He would walk to the ends of the earth for her.    I press the heart emoji on the picture and then hear the ping of the seat belt sign telling us we can stand up. I grab my leather jacket and slide it on, put on my aviators, and grab my leather duffel bag. Walking out of the plane, I nod at the two flight attendants, who both slipped me their numbers. Numbers I left in the side of the seat.    Fresh start. It’s time to make my parents proud of me. Time to show the world that Matthew Grant is here for good this time.    On my way to my hotel in Times Square, I look out the window of the yellow cab zigzagging its way through traffic. Nothing in the world beats the cab drivers in New York City. You sit back and hold your breath while you pray to not end up being slammed forward. We reach the W hotel. I swipe my card through the card holder in the back, thanking him. I don’t even have time to close the door before he races off from the curb.    I enter and check in without having anything to say. The woman at reception starts going through her routine talk. I cut in. “What floor is the gym on?”    She smiles at me, telling me the information while giving me her private number in case I have any other questions.    I nod at her and then walk up to my room. It’s the size of a closet. Welcome to New York. I take my phone out to send a text to Cooper.         Landed. Going to work out.    Be good.    I’m always good.    Okay, then behave.    I laugh and throw the phone on the bed, and then get my workout clothes out of the bag. I grab my headphones and make my way to the gym.    I have texts from Allison, my sister, and Tom, who is married to my aunt Meghan and is an ex-NHLer, wishing me luck. But the one that makes me laugh out loud is from my Aunt Meghan, telling me that my dick won’t fall off if I don’t use it. I’m about to answer her when the elevator beeps, signaling I have arrived at the gym floor.    I walk to the gym and scan my card so I can get in. Usually, these hotel gyms are almost empty, but not this time. A girl is jogging on the treadmill, but I don’t make eye contact with her.    Grabbing a towel from the basket in the corner, I walk over to the other treadmill, look down at the buttons, and turn it on.    I start off slow while Drake fills my ears, but that doesn’t last long before I crank it up and push myself hard. I’m in the best shape of my life, thanks to my mom, Cooper, and Tim. They didn’t let me sit down and drown my sorrows in bonbons and booze. They had my ass skating at the crack of dawn. In the gym pushing and pulling. Meaning I’m the biggest I’ve ever been. My shoulders are wider, my waist leaner, my arms bigger.    I’m sweating up a storm, so I look over to see if the girl is still running on the treadmill, which is my first mistake. Not only is she next to me running as fast as me, but she’s in a sports bra holding up a perfect set of tits, her stomach bare, her abs defined but looking soft, and her little booty shorts not keeping anything back. She isn’t tall. Her blond hair swings in the air while she’s looking at the iPad she has in front of her. Is she watching the Kardashians? Jesus. She must sense me watching her because she looks over, which is when I feel the earth move under my feet. Her eyes are crystal blue, so blue it’s like I’m looking into the ocean. I almost trip over my own two feet, but I recover and smile at her. I turn my head forward and continue running till my legs feel like they’re going to snap in two.    Getting off the treadmill, I whip my soaking shirt off and throw it over my shoulder before I grab a water bottle and drain it all. I notice she’s slowing her speed. She shuts off the treadmill, dabbing her face with the towel that she has near her. She takes the water bottle, drinking in a good amount.    I start to walk out of the room when she gets off the treadmill. I stop right before we collide with each other, then put out my hand, giving her the right of way.    “Thanks,” she says, her voice soft, sweet, pure.    Following her out, I watch her ass swing in front of me. I don’t even notice she stops and I crash into her, grabbing her shoulders and making sure she doesn’t fall on her face because I was staring at her ass. “I’m sorry, I was…” I’m sure I don’t have to say anything to her because my cock is nestled in her back.    She shrugs my hands off her shoulders while she presses the elevator button. We stand here not saying anything while we wait. What can you say? Sorry my dick poked your back? Sorry I was watching your sweet ass instead of watching where I was going? Silence is golden right now.    When the elevator arrives, I wait for her to walk in before entering and see that we are on the same floor. Great. The ride lasts no longer than a second before the door opens and she sprints out, away from the crazy pervert who poked his dick into her back. I head to my door and see she’s in the room right next to mine. I want to say something, anything, but by the time I look up, she’s already in the safety of her own room.  















When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...
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Thanks for joining us at Tears of Crimson. Home to Bestselling Author Michelle Hughes,and all the Friends of Crimson!

Sinner - Jackie Wang

Title: SinnerSeries: A Northbridge Nights NovelAuthor: Jackie WangGenre: Romantic Suspense/MysteryRelease Date: July 22, 2017

Brandy Paige - “This is such a enjoyable that will give you roller coaster of emotions..”

Excessive Reader - “This book has so many secrets I didn't see coming, I don't want to give away any of the fun.”

Natalie - “I enjoyed the twists and turns throughout the book that kept me captivated the whole way through.”

First, he broke my heart. Then, he ripped it out of my chest.Fifteen years ago, Beckett Longstead broke up with me, then disappeared.One stormy night, he shows up at my doorstep bloodied and bruised, begging me for help.I should’ve shut the door in his face. Should’ve left him to bleed.But instead, I take him in and fix him, just like when we were teenagers.Beckett has secrets, though, and everything about him screams guilt.He’s hiding something terrible, but he won’t tell me what.He claims he can’t remember. That he has amnesia.He’s sick, plagued by nightmares, and his memory loss troubles me.But he’s got no one else. So against my better judgment, I welcome him into my home, and back into my vulnerable heart.Little did I know, his sins would destroy us. Little did I know, his secrets would ruin everything. a Rafflecopter giveaway

JACKIE WANG lives in Vancouver, Canada with her real-life alpha hero and their rambunctious daughter. When she’s not writing, Jackie is binge-reading, gorging on expensive chocolates, or fiddling around with Photoshop. HOSTED BY:
Thanks for joining us at Tears of Crimson. Home to Bestselling Author Michelle Hughes,and all the Friends of Crimson!