Cara Faith Donvovan's Blog, page 73

Bad Play - Kirsten Flowers

Amazon US     Amazon UK     Amazon CA




Axel I’m a once-in-a-generation, superstar quarterback. 
Bad Plays? 
I don’t make bad plays. 

But when Miranda Bach, a.k.a. ‘little Randy’, walks back into my life, my whole world changes in an instant. She was my best friend’s little sister. We practically grew up together. 

But now that she’s standing in front of me with the same fiery-red-curls I remember and her sexy as hell yoga pants—she’s anything but ‘little Randy’ anymore. She’s a full grown woman. 

And irresistible at that. 

Now as my massage therapist, she’s the one in charge of getting me through an injury and back on the field. But when she puts her hands all over me, a million tempting emotions course through my body. Now I only want one thing 

Her. 

But this is a dangerous game we’re playing. If we get caught it’s a breach of both of our contracts. 

Bad Plays? 
I’m starting to think this might be the worst play of all… 

Miranda 
I never thought I’d see him again. The man who ushered me through my boy-crazed teenage years and countless nights of fantasies. He was everything a girl like me wanted. 

And boy did I hate him. 

His constant teasing and the way he called me ‘little Randy’ always had me in near tears. So you can imagine my racing heart when I saw him banging on my office door. Now I’m forced to confront all of my old teenage emotions again. 

He still seems like the same old jerk I remember him being—arrogant, rude, and all he cares about is money. The last thing I need is to let feelings get involved. 
I’m a professional. 

Sleeping with the league’s most famous quarterback would ruin my career. 

Emotions? 
I’ll bury them deep and do whatever it takes to get the job done… 

There’s no way in hell I’ll let Axel Montgomery ruin my life. 

Bad Play is a full-length romance novel with a Happily-Ever-After and no cliffhanger. As a thank you to my readers, it comes with a free bonus novel—Fourth Down and Dirty. Because of the bonus novel,Bad Play will end at about the 50% mark on your reading device. 





My name is Kristen Flowers and I live in western Michigan with my two cats and loving husband.

I’ve spent my whole life wrapped up in books, movies, and my favorite TV shows. To put it simply—I love a good story! Only recently have I decided to embark on this crazy fun-filled adventure of writing my own books.

It can be tough putting a story out to the world, but nothing brings me more happiness than seeing my reader’s kind words. If I can put a smile on a readers face and make them feel how a character feels, I’d be a happy writer. Knowing I can spread a little happiness to others makes every word I put on the page worth all the hard work! I’d love to spread that happiness to you.

To hear about my new releases, sign up to my mailing list below.


Sign Up For Kristen's Mailing List!



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

My Fair Bogan - Charmaine Ross

Buy now Only on Amazon. Only 99 Pennies! Blurb:What is a Bogan? Answer: an uncouth or unsophisticated person regarded as being of low social status. And that's where the fun begins!
Contemporary romance and best-selling author Charmaine Ross sweeps readers away with another heart-pounding romance with an unlikely ‘My Fair Lady’ meets ‘Cinderella’ twist.

 Being picked off the streets and thrust into the political arena of disgraced politician Drake Wilson is challenging on so many levels. But Sally Foster is up for a challenge. Besides, chances like the one on offer doesn’t come to girls like her. Ever. She has to grab this chance with both hands and succeed for the sake of her family. She’s used to handling hard situations, but she’s never had a situation quite like the gorgeous Rhys James, Drake’s assistant, educating her day in night out.

Her instant attraction is all consuming — and totally off-limits. Rhys’ perfect world is turned upside down the moment Sally Foster blunders her way into Drake’s ‘Education for the Masses’ political campaign. If Rhys can succeed and transform Sally Foster, he can transform anyone and Drake’s policy will be funded to help thousands. The challenge isn’t so much the jaw-dropping elocution lessons, or Sally’s colourful language, or even her metamorphosis into an exquisite beauty at the hands of Drake’s personal image professionals.

The challenge is keeping his hands and rebellious desires at bay. Sally is fiery, tempestuous — and the most refreshingly honest woman that has ever walked into his life. Rhys must keep Sally at arm’s distance, but the more they spend time together, the more difficult that becomes. What's a girl to do when she's way out of her league and temptation is just too great to ignore?

  A beautifully written contemporary romance story that will sweep you off your feet.
Read An Excerpt...

She peeked out into the hallway. The house was very quiet and very empty. She knew her way to the front door, but that was about it. She’d been taken promptly to her room last night as it had been so late. Her clothes would have to be in a laundry, which would logically be on the first floor towards the back of the house. She flew down the stairs, the carpet making her steps silent and as she reached 
the foyer, the front door opened before she could dash away unseen. Rhys stepped inside. His navy business suit hugged every hot-point of his body. The pants stretched on long, lean legs, the jacket enhanced the square line of his shoulder and leanness of his stomach. He wore a crisp white shirt that was tucked neatly into his waist. He smoothed his tie as he moved through the door. He was as suave today as he had been yesterday at the Town Hall. She didn’t realise business suits could be sexy, but on Rhys, it certainly grabbed her attention. His mouth twitched before he quickly hid it beneath a serious veneer. He cleared his throat. ‘I see Sue found something for you to wear.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Yes, but light blue track-suits borrowed from five foot nothing Malaysian ladies isn’t my size or style. Look, the legs finish half way down me … my … leg.’ She indicated the hem of the pants flapping about her shin. ‘I was tryin’ to find my clothes from yesterday but they went missing. These were the only things I found and I’m not wearing ‘em any longer than I have to. I look bloody ridiculous.’ Drake came through the door then and also stopped short when he saw her. ‘It is you.’ He peered at her, eyes narrowing and wiggled a finger at her. ‘I almost didn’t recognise you without those sludgy black lines beneath your eyes. You’ll need to do something with that hair, though. Those dark roots make your hair look all greasy. Definitely need to get your hair done before the media catch you looking like that.’ Sally ran a self-conscious hand though her hair. She would have bought hair dye but she’d run short last week. The kids had been hungry when she’d picked them up from school and she’d taken them to Maccas as a treat. They didn’t get many of them. Sally latched back onto Drake’s voice. ‘Get Mel in, can you Rhys. I can’t have her going around with hair like that. The media are on the look-out for her. Especially O’Brien. You know Suzie, you could be pretty with the proper hair and make-up. Anyway, we’ll see. Come along, there’s no time to lose; I’ve promised Ian Armstrong from Political Correspondent on the ABC you’ll attend an interview sometime in the near future. Marcy Dovenich just called and wants an interview. I can’t believe I’m saying this. The word is getting out about you already!’ Drake shuffled past Rhys and Sally and into an office adjacent to the foyer Sally hadn’t noticed before now. He hovered in the doorway, nose deep in a folder he held. ‘Rhys, you’ll need to start with elocution. And please, make sure to teach her to talk from her mouth. Not her nose.’ He made a face and shuddered before closing the doors on them. Rhys really needed to have to talk to Drake about the way to spoke about Sally. Drake was known for being able to talk around a deaf man, but he seemed to be totally clueless when it came to Sally. It wasn’t as if this was a half-baked plan. They’d been preparing something like this for a year now. Maybe it was just the circumstances in which Sally was engaged were dubious. And that was completely Drake’s fault. ‘I also don’t have any make-up.’ She swiped her fingers over her face, as though she was embarrassed. She was fresh-faced, her skin still pink from her recent shower. Without the barrier of that thick black gunk around her eyes, she looked—vulnerable. Young. She smelt of her recent shower. She’d used a florally shampoo with something vanilla-y. There was also a hint of something else that wasn’t artificial. Cinnamon. Her personal brand. The door to the office opened and Drake poked his head out. ‘Oh and Suzie … don’t think about stealing anything. I have digi-cams located all through this house. I see everything.’ Sally stared open-mouthed at the now shut door. ‘Did he just accuse me of stealing?’ ‘Just warning you off stealing. It came out all wrong. Listen.’ Rhys grasped her upper arm as she started to stalk toward Drake’s door. He was surprised at how strong she was for such a slight woman. He let his hand slide down her arm to hold her hand. Warm, soft fingers linked his, fitting together just like they were always meant to. He reluctantly let her go when she stopped walking, liking the feel of her simple touch. ‘Let’s get started. Clothes first, okay?’ She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at the door. ‘’e’s gunna get it one day.’ ‘Temper, Sally.’ A muscle worked her jaw. ‘How can he say that? I haven’t even been here for a day and ‘es accusing me of stealing! Do I look like someone who’s gunna rip ‘im off? Well, do I?’ She didn’t look anything of the sort. She looked like an oversized kitten you didn’t want to anger dressed in a ridiculous, ill-fitting track-suit. Her cheeks were flushed with indignant red, instead of that beguiling pink and her luscious mouth was stretched into a tense line. He liked it when her lips were softer, plumper. They were like that when she didn’t think anyone was looking at her. When she relaxed. She had very kissable lips when she was relaxed. He suddenly wondered what it would be like to press his lips against her pillowy soft mouth. Wondered if they would feel as good as they looked. 
Keep Up With The Author... Charmaine’s first foray into romance was as a fourteen year old where she fell hopelessly and eternally in love with her hero as only a teenager can. Instead of watching movies and staying up late, she would go to bed at eight thirty and continue her very romantic, very safe, love affair.
Since then, she has fallen in love with many heroes, some less safe than what her teenage brain could possibly imagine. After earning a Fine Art’s Degree, a Diploma of Secondary Education and a Diploma of Marketing, she worked as a Graphic Designer in various advertising agencies and as well as in-house marketing roles and is currently involved with digital marketing and everything web in her current position. But she always returns to writing.

 Although she has travelled, she always returns to her home town of Melbourne and lives with her husband, two children and two cats in the ferny-greens of the Dandenongs. If she’s not working on her latest romance and falling in love with yet another hero, you’ll find her reading, watching and basically indulging in her addiction to any story on any media type she can get her fingers on. You can find information about her latest releases as well as excerpts on all of her published books here: WebsiteTwitterFacebookPinterestYou Tube


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

Endless Obsession - Alex Grayson

IT'S LIVE!


Official Blurb: 
I’ve silently watched her for a year, staying hidden in the shadows, biding my time.She may know me as two different men, but she doesn’t have a clue what I’ve done.She unknowingly became mine the minute my eyes touched her beauty.But I’ve done things. Things she may not be able to forgive.I know all her secrets, her habits, her preferred coffee, what she does in her spare time, her favorite lingerie brand, even that she sleeps naked.
At night, I watch her from her window. During the day, I watch her from my computer. She innocently bares her heart and body to me, and I soak up every single fucking second.I’ve stayed away, but I’m tired of watching from afar. It’s time Poppy finds out just who I am and what I’m willing to do to take what’s mine. She may hate me when she finds out my what I’ve done, but she has no choice but to accept it.

She will be my wife.
She will mother my children.
I will claim every part of her heart, body, and soul.
Anything else is unacceptable.Poppy Lexington has become my endless obsession. I will become her uncontrollable addiction.


[image error] [image error] [image error] [image error]

Unknown:Have you enjoyed the flowers I’ve sent you?
I freeze, except for my eyes, which pop open wide in shock. My breath gets caught in my throat when I realize this must be my mystery flower guy.
Holy hell! It’s him!
Why in the world is he texting me? After all this time, why contact me now? And what in the hell do I say to him? It’s become a routine. I’ve gotten used to getting the roses and not knowing who they are from. Question after question runs through my mind. Who is he? Why send me flowers? Why not introduce himself? Where did he first see me? How did he find out where I worked? And how in the hell did he get my number?
That’s my number one question, so I ask him. 
Me:How did you get my number?
It only takes seconds for me to receive a reply, and I’m not sure how to take it.
Unknown:I have my ways. You didn’t answer my question.
He has his ways? What is that supposed to mean? My chest tightens with fear at his answer. I push back the fear and ask another question I’m dying to know.
Me: They’re beautiful, thank you. Who are you?Unknown: You’ll find out soon enough.
Umm… say what? Another question avoided. My eyes narrow in suspicion.
Me: I’m not sure I like that answer. I have no idea who you are. What if I don’t want to know you once I find out?
I notice the time on my phone and pull the second thigh-high up my leg, keeping my eyes on the screen the entire time. This is really weird, him having my number. I’m sure it’s not too hard to get the information, but it’s the point that he went through the trouble to get it. I hate being left in the dark like this.
My phone dings again, and I quickly grab it.
Unknown:You’ll want to know me. Trust me.
Trust him? That’s laughable. How can he think I’ll trust him when I have no idea who he is?
Me:It’s hard to trust someone I don’t know.
I slip my feet in my heels as I wait for him to reply. It’s doesn’t take long.
Unknown: You’ll learn.
Unsure of how to respond to that, I walk back to the kitchen to get a travel mug of coffee ready. He seems so confident, and cocky. Maybe a little too much, since it’s coming from a total stranger. How can he be so sure?
I type out my original question again.
Me:Who are you?
Unknown:Soon…
I grip my phone in frustration. Now that he’s contacted me, the need to know who sends me roses every week is overwhelming. It’s no longer a curiosity—I need to know. I should be more afraid, but I’m not, and that gives me pause. Why am I not more fearful? He’s obviously hiding something, right? But what?
He sends another text before I get a chance to reply.
Unknown:Have a good day at work, Beautiful.
What? That’s it? He has flowers delivered to me every week for eight months, messages me out of the blue with cryptic messages, then wishes me a good day at work? Pissed off vibes has my gut clenching. How dare he contact me and leave me hanging.
Me:That’s it? That’s all I get out of you?
I flip the off switch on the coffee pot, grab my now full travel mug, my purse, and with phone still in hand, I leave my house, locking it up behind me.
I’m buckling my seatbelt when he replies.
Unknown: For now, yes.
Oh no, that doesn’t work for me. He needs to give me something. He can’t just expect me to accept his non-answers.
Me:How do you know me? How do you know where I work?Unknown:I know a lot of things about you, Poppy.Me:You’re not helping your case of me wanting to know you. It’s freaking me out that you know stuff about me, personal stuff, when I don’t even know your name. That’s not normal. It’s pretty stalkerish, don’t you think?
I notice the time on my phone again and see I have a few minutes before I need to leave, so I decide to wait for his reply.
Unknown:Just call me Mr. A for now. Have a safe trip to work.



Alex Grayson is originally from the south, but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio, she absolutely loves living in the north. Her and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, son, one dogs, two cats, eight ducks, and three chickens. She hopes to eventually get a couple of goats to add to their country way of living. Besides her family and home, her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind, she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her, she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind. She can be contacted at alexgraysonauthor@gmail.com.
[image error] [image error] [image error] [image error]



Hosted by:

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

Blue - Release Day for Jill Patten

Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA Nook  Kobo iBooks





































He is a thief.

She is his victim.

Lance King, known as Blue, is the charming, local surfer bad boy everyone falls for. This comes in handy since he enjoys taking advantage of privileged college kids as they throw money around wherever they go. What turns out to be a typical spring break quickly changes when he meets the one tourist who exceeds his expectations.

Phoebe McCormick is on her way to having the time of her life. With Panama City Beach in her sights, and her two best friends by her side, the possibilities are endless, or so she thinks. What she isn’t expecting is Blue, the local surfer to nearly ruin her long anticipated spring break. Her carefree attitude and his charismatic personality is the perfect combination for a successful friendship, but their relationship turns out to be anything but. Once the fantasy world of spring break is over and life resumes in Pennsylvania, a secret she thought she’d be able to keep hidden emerges, making it difficult to ignore.

He steals her money, but she will steal something far more valuable from him — a memento that will forever change his life.

She is a thief.

He is her victim.

**This is a standalone**









As I approach the pier, I notice someone spinning around clumsily. The way their slender body moves about in the shadows tells me it’s a female. I pick up the pace as I see her dance closer to the water. With the tide up, underneath the pier is the worst place a person can be, much less by themselves. Her arms are flowing out by her sides as she dances around like a ballerina, and her eyes are closed as she sings a song I’ve never heard before. She has a pleasant sound to her voice, but she can’t carry a tune for shit. Talk about an odd combination. She’s either drunk off her ass or she has a carefree spirit.

Like a creepy stalker, I watch her carelessly. My eyes drink in her slender legs reaching for miles until they meet the round curve of her ass. And a fine ass it is. The front of my shorts slightly tightens. My feet draw me toward her of their own accord.

Before I can reach her, she trips over her own feet and lands face first in the water. Wrapping my arm around her tiny waist, I pull her out with one clean sweep. She stares at me with wide eyes then suddenly busts out into a fit of giggles. Her breath circles around my face, and my earlier guess is right—she’s drunk. Her lanky arms wrap around my neck with more strength than I thought she had, and her mouth is on mine before I even know what is happening.

I let her kiss me. From what I’ve seen, she’s cute and sexy enough for my taste. Even though her movements are sloppy from her inebriated state, her tongue caresses mine with precise grace, and it ignites a spark within me.

The taste of alcohol on her lips reminds me of her drunkenness. As much as I like the way she tastes and the way her tight little body rubs up against mine, I know it has to stop. When I try to pull away, she grips the back of my head and holds me in place. It’s just a kiss, right? Who am I to reject someone coming onto me as hard as she is?

“Lie down,” she commands, so I do what she says.

I’m still fully clothed with only my shorts unbuttoned and unzipped. When the hell did that happen?

For someone as wasted as her, she has stealth moves when it comes to getting what she wants. Her hands are inside my shorts with fingers eagerly wrapping around my hard-on. “Fuck me,” she breathes against my lips.

Fuck! I groan to myself. Maybe this isn’t just a kiss after all. I know I shouldn’t follow through with her request but, God, she’s turning me the fuck on with just those two words. What am I supposed to do now? She climbs over me, straddles my waist, and then lifts herself up just enough to align my dick to where we both want it to be. I’m so hard by her bold confidence.

She’s drunk.

She’s vulnerable.

She’s not going to remember.

As much as it kills me to do so, I sit up, forcing her to scoot back until her butt is on the sand. I take her forearm and pull it until her hand is free from the inside of my shorts. My dick twitches in protest and my balls are going to hate me in the next few minutes. I’ve never in my life purposely given myself a case of blue balls.

She frowns at me as she shimmies out of her panties then shoots me a drunken grin when she tosses them close to the water. “I have something to show you,” she sings as she teasingly inches her dress up the top of her thighs. Beautiful thighs, I might add. God, the ache in my lower belly is starting to set in.

“No, no, no, you don’t want to do that,” I retort while I try to pull her short dress back down.

“You’re such a party-pooper,” she whines. She’s literally sitting there with her plump bottom lip pooched out while looking at me with hooded eyes.


















































Jill Patten was born a Yankee, but raised a southerner. She lives in the small town of Mayberry, North Carolina which was made famous by a popular TV show back in the sixties. (Maybe there will one day be a statue of her at the end of Main Street. Ha! A girl can dream, right?)

Jill has always loved to read, even during reading labs in middle school for reading comprehension. Judy Blume was her first author she hero-worshipped, maturing to revere the works of Stephen King. With all the fantastic authors today, she simply cannot choose a favorite. Her taste is very eclectic and she loves almost all genres. When she's not captivated by her fictional characters, she spends time with her sweet husband and two beautiful children.

Music is her muse. Jill also loves elephants, sarcasm, and anything made with sugar, especially sweet tea. She enjoys all things rude and crude and laughs at stuff she probably shouldn't. She has been accused of being bossy a time or two, but doesn't really see it herself.

All in all, Jill is just a small town girl in this great big world trying to enable your book addiction.

Oh, and if you read her book, please leave her a review - good or bad, she'll love you forever.

Author Links
Web  Twitter  Facebook  Goodreads Amazon page

















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

Branded - Candace Havens

Amazon | B&N | iTunes | Kobo | Goodreads







I have my hands full taking care of my little sister and covering for my uncle as ranch foreman. The last thing I need is a Texas princess like Callie Llewellyn getting up in my business and messing with my head.

All I can think of is getting up close and personal with those curves of hers. And being on the edge of discovery makes our quick-and-dirty encounters twice as hot. And that’s all they are—quick and dirty—there’s nothing deeper going on here.

There’s only one rule to keeping my job and a roof over my sister’s head: stay away from the boss’s granddaughter. But I’m not always great at following the rules.


An hour later, I’d showered. My bones were tired as hell. But my cock was hard.

I texted Callie: Where are you?

Studying. And I’m not talking to you. Stop texting me.

Didn’t blame her for being mad. I’d been a jerk. But this thing with her had only been going on for twenty-four hours, and I was already twisted up. Might be best to let it go. But that wasn’t going to happen.

What are you studying?


Sigh

I snickered.
Come on. I’m sorry. I was an asshole. Why don’t you bring your books, and I’ll help you.

You don’t even know what it is.


I need to see you. We can just study.
She didn’t text back.
So I typed: You’re mad. So rant. I can take it.


WTF is wrong with you? You’re the one who told me you’d had enough. Then you kissed the shit out of me and took a phone call. And I told you I’m BUSY.

You wanted what I gave you. We’re not doing this on the phone. 30 mins. Bring your books and laptop.

Go F yourself.

I laughed out loud. Maybe it was a little sick, but I liked when she was all red up.

28 mins.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and took off for my uncle’s house. My sister was at her first slumber party. She’d become friends with one of the girls she’d met while helping Mrs. Llewellyn with charity work. They talked on the phone constantly. Her mother was nice, as was her father. The girl had spent the night at our house two nights ago. She hadn’t balked at the simple three-bedroom ranch house. They’d had fun and I hadn’t seen Addy that happy in a long time.

I’d talked to the parents again when they’d picked up her friend. Then before I let her go to the party tonight, I’d made Ads pinky-swear there would be no boys involved. And that she’d text me every two hours to check in.

I still hadn’t heard anything from Callie. So I sent her another text: Meet me at the ranch house. Please. See, I can be nice. Now get your ass over here.

The princess was about to go to a whole new school. And I couldn’t wait to play teacher.











$50 Amazon Gift Card


Click HERE to enter.




Author Bio: Bestselling author Candace Havens has published more than 25 books. Her novels have received nominations for the RITA's, Holt Medallion, Write Touch Reader Awards and National Readers Choice Awards. She is a Barbara Wilson Award winner. She is the author of the biography “Joss Whedon: The Genius Behind Buffy” and a contributor to several anthologies. She is also one of the nation's leading entertainment journalists and has interviewed countless celebrities from George Clooney to Chris Pratt. Her entertainment columns are syndicated by FYI Television, Inc. Candace also runs a free online writing workshop for more than 2000 writers, and teaches comprehensive writing classes. She does film reviews with Hawkeye in the Morning on 96.3 KSCS, and is a former President of the Television Critics Association.

Social Media Links:
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Newsletter











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

Con-Fessed - Nicola Rendell

Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA  Amazon AU Nook  Kobo













Lucy Burchett is the heiress to a notoriously disastrous family, and she's left home for good. But when she runs a big, black pickup off the road, totaling it, she finds herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with the driver. He's got a body to die for and a hair-trigger temper. Vince Russo looks like a felon, but he's also pretty funny. He’s on the lam from the cops… and a psychopathic, Russian mob boss who wants to put his balls on a barbeque. Literally.

After a night of ill-advised cocktails and bathroom-wrecking sex, Vince just can't get Lucy off his mind. But he's got plans to rob her. And Lucy’s life is about to get a little bit criminal too.

But can a bad boy and a good girl really escape from their troubles together? Can they trust each other at all?

In the steady march of disasters that follow them west, they fight and they laugh. They tease and they’re tender. They’re either oil and water, or chocolate and peanut butter.

Except, they can’t run from the real world forever. And there’s a hell of a surprise in store for both of them…

***

To the reader: Confessed is a standalone featuring Lucy, who readers met as the best friend in Professed. Both are stand alones and do not need to be read together. Be advised, things get super dirty in this book. The sex is explicit, and the language is rude. It’s an erotic love story with fury. Other tasters’ notes: Bobby pins. Peculiar motels. Horses. Motorcycles. Aiding and abetting. Great Smoky Mountains. New Mexico.   



1

Vince

I’m in a ditch with the front end of my truck wrapped around a pine tree when I see her in my rearview mirror. Construction lights on the highway light her up from behind, like some rock star. The curve of her calves is perfect, pretty little ankles and strappy sandals. I’m such a goddamned sucker for sandals.
Her dress is made of something thin. The wind kicks up, lifting her skirt and showing me her bare thighs. She tries to catch it with her hand, but she can’t stop the breeze, and she gives me the full Marilyn Monroe.
This is not what I need right now.
I force the door open with my shoulder and slide out. My neck hurts like a motherfucker, and the engine is pouring smoke. This was not the plan. I head up the dirt embankment. I can’t take my eyes off of her. The construction lights do me a favor and magnify the line of her breasts on the ground in shadow. I rub my stubble and then crack my neck.
Marilyn. She had nothing on this one. Christ.
The dress, it’s this peach color. Those shoulders are smooth and soft. That sexy blonde hair comes down in waves just past her nipples.
She’s driving a white 2016 BMW X5. Top-of-the-line engine, pain-in-the-ass security system. You can’t steal that one unless you’ve got the key. Believe me. I know.
I was driving a perfectly good Dodge 3500 Cummins turbo diesel Hemi V8. I hotwired it not an hour ago from the back lot of a Walmart fifty miles away, outside Knoxville. I was doing just fine until she came along.
Not what I need. At fucking all.
I walk up the embankment. Behind me, the pickup starts honking all by itself. The BMW, on the other hand, is just a little banged up on the bumper. Unbelievable. German engineering and further proof of the point that life’s a total bitch. That’s why you’ve got to steal what you want.
Now I’m close to her. About ten feet away.
A little bow accentuates her waist. One of her straps is a little bit twisted. Pouty lips. Oh shit. Are those freckles?
Motherfuck it.
“You stopped too fast!” she says, marching right up to me like I don’t outweigh her by a hundred and seventy pounds and I don’t tower over her by at least a foot. Totally fucking fearless. “Haven’t you ever heard of pulsing your brake lights?” She points at me. “Sir?”
Sexy and angry?
For. Fuck’s. Sake.
The last time I did a stint in prison, I had to take a mandatory anger management class because of an incident in the lunch line when a racist SOB started rolling with the slurs, so I turned around, slammed him with a left hook, and knocked three of his teeth into his canned beans. Fucking righteous, I’ll tell you what, but not exactly what the New Jersey Department of Corrections had in mind.
So in that stupid class, they taught us something called “meditative breathing.” I count back from eight on the exhale.
It’s not fucking working.
She’s turning me on and she’s pissing me off all at once. Kryptonite in sandals.
I point to the truck. “Are you kidding me? That’s my fault?” It starts hissing even louder. I take a step closer and let my voice get low and mean. “My money’s on you texting. You’ve got the look. Probably talking to some girlfriend of yours about the latest shade of nail polish.”
​Her mouth drops open. That tongue. That mouth.
Awww fuck.
​“And yeah, I’m fine,” I say, gripping my neck. “Thanks for asking.”
She looks me up and down like she’s checking for protruding broken bones. Then she puts her hands on her hips—actually puts her hands on her damned hips—and stomps her foot—actually stomps her damned foot. She says all matter of fact, “I can see you’re fine. But the crash wasn’t my fault. I had no chance of avoiding you. At all.”
​Jesus Christ, what’s that smell? Peaches?
Nope. She’s got no power over me. If I don’t look straight at her and stay downwind.
“Want me to draw you a diagram? You rear-ended me.” I smack my fist into my palm. “It’s not fucking complicated.”
“There’s no need to be rude!” she says. She steps back, but I’ve got her cornered against the fender of the Beemer. She crosses her arms. I’m pretty sure I don’t audibly groan when her forearms push on her tits from underneath. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I do. She sets her teeth and glares. “Okay? It doesn’t do any good to yell at me, sir.”
​Actually, I’ve got a feeling it probably would do her some good to get yelled at. She looks like she’s never been properly reamed in her life, and right now I’m just angry enough to be the first one to do it.
​Her eyes widen, and her jaw slips forward, snagging her top lip and pulling it in. Her nostrils flare. Then she sucks air through her teeth and stares at me, like she’s thinking of a whole lot of awful things she’d like to say but is too well bred to say them.
​I’d like to hear her say them. I’d like to hear that mouth get real dirty.
“I was going to say we should call a tow truck, mister. Do you have a problem with that? Do you want to stand around and argue about it for a while?” She’s pointing at me again. Her finger is about two inches from my chest.
​Pretty little hands, and a row of gold bracelets running up her arm. Around her neck, she’s got a tiny gold necklace sitting just perfectly in that deep hollow of her collarbone. I want my tongue there. Right there.
​Damn it. I want to push her. I want to piss her off. I want to go a little too fucking far.
​Just to see what happens.
I tip forward in my boots so that her finger meets my chest. She doesn’t recoil at all. She just pushes harder. The light from the road behind spills down over her shoulder.
​I see the shadow of her sharp collarbone threading its way under those thin straps.
​I take stock of this little spitfire nightmare. Look at that fucking waist. But come on, Vince. Man up. Focus, you asshole. “No cops,” I tell her. “Too much fucking paperwork.”
​Surprisingly, because she looks a whole hell of a lot like the kind of girl that would call the cops if she thought there was a raccoon in the attic, she nods. “No cops. I agree.” She pulls her phone out of her bag. It’s got one of those rhinestone covers on it. It catches a beam from her headlight and shines disco ball sparkles all over her body. One of them shimmers over her left nipple.
“And I don’t want to go through insurance,” she adds, “if you don’t mind.”
“Fine.” Again, it makes exactly zero difference to me. Not like I have a Geico policy to show her either. Now the little glitter circles are shining on her face. Of course they are.
I think I might be fucked.
While she looks up a tow company, dragging her little index finger over the shattered screen of her phone, I get a chance to really study her as I cool my jets. She’s maybe 22, 23. Blonde, but that’s a dye job. I don’t believe in God, not really, but I’d like to thank Jesus right here and now that she’s not a brunette. If she were, I’d have no fucking chance at all.
From where I’m standing, I can see straight down into her cleavage. Those tits make me feel like I’m on the winning end of a high-speed chase.
Mint-green bra. Ironic, right, because mint green is supposed to be calming—jails are mint green inside, and I should know—but that bra is doing everything except lowering my blood pressure. I can see her skin through the lace edges. Her tan line crosses under them right where I’m staring. I’m supposed to be fuming, and now I’m thinking about one of those nipples in my mouth. I can actually feel myself start to salivate, thinking of how she’d feel between my teeth. Thinking texture and taste. Wondering about how her nipples change shape when they get hard.
I pat my pocket for my Lucky Strikes.
​“Hello, we need a tow truck, please,” she says into the phone, looking straight up at me now. She slaps her free hand to her chest. She caught me looking.
I take a step back and pull out my lighter.
She wrinkles her nose as she watches me light up, looking at me like Gross!
But she refocuses on the call, putting her finger in her free ear for zero reason whatsoever. “Location? On the shoulder of Highway…” She twirls around.
Come the fuck on. That ass.
I stare into the flame of my lighter and take a long, long drag.
​“I have no idea,” she says. Now she’s looking at me again and shifting the bottom of the phone back towards her cheek. “Do you know where we are? Or do you have a head injury? Stop staring at me.”
I exhale through my nose. “We’re on I-75.” I point at the sign I leveled when she ran me off the road. “Mile marker 43, Peaches.”
​She makes a fist of her free hand. I see the tendons tight across her knuckles, and she makes this angry, sexy little gasp. “Right. I’m sure you did hear him.” She waves her hand in front of her face, making a big show of not wanting my smoke anywhere near her.
There’s a pause while the person on the other end is talking. She nods and looks from side to side as she listens. She does this cute little thing with her toes, sort of spreads them out on her sandals and plants them, and then comes up just about half an inch on her heels. Light pink toenail polish. Adorable feet. But then her eyes pop back to mine, and she presses the phone harder into her cheek. “Hang on, are you saying it’ll be tomorrow before you can help?”
​I groan into the filter. This shitstorm is becoming epic.
But I play it cool. That’s another thing about being a con. Never show your hand, even if a pretty little thing like this is making your balls ache. “Give me a lift to the nearest motel. I’ll wait there.” I blow upwind intentionally. It goes right to her face.
​After a dramatic cough, way too dramatic to be believable, including a totally unnecessary wheeze, she confirms what I said with the tow truck lady, repeating back to me everything she’s hearing in her ear. She’s staring up at me but with a listening stare, not really looking at me. Almost through me. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and headlights so that I can see her irises. They’re this honey brown. Amber, maybe. Gold.
I pull a little tobacco off my tongue. Goddamn it, Vince.
Finally, she hangs up. “There’s a motel about five miles from here. In Unicoi,” she reports back. “I’ll give you a ride. But no smoking in the car.”
I flick my cigarette to the ground. “Yes, ma’am.”
She scurries over and stubs it out with her sandal.
“Thanks, Smokey,” I growl at her.
She glares up at me. Fearless. Like a little Chihuahua coming up against a Rottweiler.
But this Rottweiler, he happens to be a huge fan of Chihuahuas. Especially this one.
“Give me a second,” I say. “Stay here.”
She crosses her arms. “Why?”
I think I actually growl when she pushes that cleavage towards me this time. I cover it with a cough.
“Because I don’t want you getting near the truck.”
She uncrosses her arms. “Your truck isn’t going to blow up. Promise.” She gets on her tiptoes and looks down the embankment. “Not even totaled.”
“And you’d know?”
She looks at her sandals and wiggles her toes. The angry face turns into something a little flirtier. “Possibly. It’s possible I have some experience with this sort of thing.” She comes up on her heels and then goes back down again.
God, what a cutie. I head the thirty feet back to the truck, turning my face from her before I smile too. All that spunk and heat. Shit yes.
I smell oil, and the engine clicks as I open the door. Pulling my duffel from the cab, I kill the dome light. With a T-shirt from my bag, I rub down everything I have touched for prints, including the door handle and the underside of the turn signal—because how many dipshits have been caught because of that rookie mistake?—and then I head back to her with my bag over my arm.
All the way up the embankment, I stare at those honey eyes. She’s just gorgeous. Just the naughty side of sweet. Just the feisty side of nice.
She’s smiling down at me just a little. Still got her arms crossed with one shoulder higher than the other, wrapping her arm around her front side in this sweet way. Just kills me.
She jingles her keys. “Ready?”
I’m about to say, Yeah, but are you ready for me? when the ground shakes, there’s a flash of light, and all hell breaks loose behind me.

***

​I’m on top of her in the dirt. The last five seconds took five minutes. As the wave of heat hit the back of my neck and my triceps, I sprang for her through the air, wrapped my arms around her little body to cover her as we landed with a hard thud on the dirt. The gasp of her lungs as my body knocked the wind out of her, the smell of burning fuel. Like a slow-motion sequence from Backdraft.
Now there’s another explosion. I pull her closer and shield her face with my shoulder. I turn to look. The flames are shooting up high with black smoke pouring from the engine. The fire’s spread into the cab and is eating up the seats already. One of the tires blows out, and her body tenses with the explosion. I grasp her tighter, instinctively. But I’m not going to lie. I’m pretty sure I could stay right here forever.
I feel her cheek on mine. I feel her breathing in my ear. I pull my face away.
We’re face to face in the dirt. Her eyes are just inches from mine.
“Are you okay?” I say. I lean closer, and without even knowing what I’m doing, I find I’m sliding my nose right against the soft skin of hers. There’s goddamned clear and present danger everywhere, and what am I doing?
“I’m okay,” she says. “Are you…giving me Eskimo kisses?”
Jesus Christ. “Just checking for injuries.”
I feel her smile against my stubble. “With your nose?”
I nod. “Fuck, you smell good.”
She’s tiny under me. Her little hands are fisting my shirt in panic. Slowly she releases them and flattens her palms on my pecs.
My forearm is under her neck, making a perfect little pillow
“I guess I should cancel that tow,” she says. In the distance, there are the sounds of fire engines. I'll bet somebody driving past gave them a call.
“Probably so.”
“Thank you for, you know…” She trails off. I inhale deeply, pretending to sniffle. Yeah, she definitely smells like peaches.
I fucking love peaches.
“Thank me for what?” I ask.
It looks like it takes her a second to come back to earth. I fucking get it. I once did some uncut coke that made me feel like this.
“…For covering me? Is that the right way to say it?”
I nod into her cheek. “I think that’s about right.”
“I’m Lucy…” she says, breathless and almost smiling. Then she winces. “But I go by…” She looks up at the stars. I feel her little fingers press into my chest. “Helen. I go by Helen.”
Alright, so I might not be the smartest guy on the planet, but I do know when someone’s trying to use a fake name. Usually, the people I’m around actually get it right on the first try. I roll off her and offer her a hand to help her up. She takes it, and her palm damn near vanishes in mine. “Helen, huh?” I say.
​ “Right. Helen.” She gives me a slow, sexy blink-and-smile. Killer. A sweet little killer right here, lying through her teeth.
​That is what I’m talking about.
​She dusts the dirt off of her dress. There’s a patch of it on her arm and I wipe that off for her. Her skin is silky and soft under my fingers. Like maybe she uses baby oil after she showers. Jesus.
“I’m Vince,” I say, but whoa, holy fuck. I’m no better than she is. Vince is actually my name. This girl is turning me into an idiot. She’s fucking up my whole M.O. “I’m gonna call you Lucy if you don’t mind…Helen.”
She grits her teeth. Smiling but freaked out “Really, it would be better if you went with Helen,” she says, and starts fiddling with her necklace, zipping the charm side to side and then running the fine chain along her lip before letting it fall back to her throat. She goes to the driver’s side of the Beemer and gets in.
I get in the passenger’s side. I notice a suitcase in the backseat. I’m putting it together. All by herself. No insurance. No cops. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s going on here. I slam my door shut. “Sure. Helen.”
The strap of her dress falls down her shoulder as she buckles up. She fires up the engine and then turns to me and smiles.
Yeah. She doesn’t know it yet, but Peaches here, she’s got everything I need.










Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.


Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Amazon  Goodreads












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

Jenika Snow - Experienced

Coming September 29th



















He’ll show her how a real man treats a woman…

 

SABINE

I've never known how good it could feel to be taken care of by a man who knew what he was doing.

Until I was with Hugo...

 

HUGO

I was older than her.

She was innocent, hadn't experienced all that life had to offer.

I could give her that experience.

Sabine consumed my thoughts, made me desire nothing else but her. No other woman compared to her, and because of that, I haven’t been with a woman for four years, which was also the last time I saw Sabine.

But I was done feeling guilty for what I desired. I wanted Sabine in my life, by my side, and I was about to make that a reality.

I didn’t know if she’d ever been treated the way a female should … but I was going to show her how a real man takes care of a woman.


Warning: If you’re into super short, hot, dirty reads containing a much older hero and younger heroine … keep on reading. This story is guaranteed to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, give you that sweet HEA we all deserve, and make you want to search out an experienced older man for yourself.





Hugo



She’s all I thought about for the last four years.

Since I left after her high school, and eighteenth birthday, celebration, Sabine had been on my mind.

Four. Fucking. Years.

I closed my eyes and pictured her.

I always thought about Sabine.

I could picture her long black hair ... strands I wanted to wrap around my hand as I made love to her.

I imagined her blue eyes staring up at me, wide, pleasure-filled, as I thrust into her body.

I could picture my hands, mouth, and tongue moving along her womanly curves.

Four years of me wanting a woman I knew I shouldn’t desire, but whom I couldn’t get out of my head.

She was so much younger than I was, but that wasn’t an issue. The age difference didn't bother me in the slightest. She was a woman, twenty-one years old, and she was smart, perfect for me. Sabine had always known what she wanted out in life, and she’d excelled at what she put her mind to. I might not have seen her in years, but I knew she had only gotten more determined in that regard. That wasn’t a trait someone just let go of.

I also didn’t care that she was Leo’s—my childhood friend’s—daughter. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t let a complication like that stop me from aching for her in a way that made it hard to think of much else.

It had been four long years since I’d even been intimate with a woman. I just couldn’t bring myself to go there with them, not when the only one I wanted was Sabine.

After all this time, I knew she was the only one I'd ever want, and as experienced in life as I was, I knew this wasn't a passing desire.

I ran a hand over my face, breathing out wearily.

“Would you like something else to drink, Mr. Alfonso?”

I looked up at the flight attendant and shook my head. “No, thank you, Marcella.” I had three more hours to go before I landed in New York, and another hour drive to get to get to Leo and his wife Annabelle’s house. And by the time I even got to their home, it would be too late to see anyone really.

Getting a hotel would have been a simpler option, but it was out of the question, not when Leo and Annabelle insisted I stay in their guesthouse. I knew better than to argue with either of them.

I should have been here earlier.

I’d missed Sabine's graduation, and even though I'd known about this event for some time, switching my business obligations around hadn't been possible. That didn’t stop me from feeling this immense guilt.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the white leather box. Opening it, I stared down at the diamond tennis bracelet I'd bought for her.

Sabine was the only woman I’d ever given jewelry to, and although it might seem like an innocent gesture, a congratulatory gift for her accomplishments, the necklace, and now this bracelet that I'd give to her, meant a little more to me than she’d ever know.

She meant more to me than she'd ever know.

****

Sabine



It had been four years since I’d seen him.

Four years of me wanting a man who I knew I could never have.

Four years of me comparing every guy I tried to have a relationship with him ... Hugo.

I’d told myself I needed to wake up, to realize I could never have a man more than twice my age and my father’s lifelong friend.

But telling myself what I should and shouldn’t want was a lot harder to accomplish when what I wanted was unattainable, yet still within my reach.

I stared across the table at my parents. We'd finished throwing a small dinner party in celebration of me graduating college and getting my bachelor's degree, and now it was just the three of us. I should be focusing on graduate school, getting my Master's in education, but knowing Hugo was coming in tonight was all I could think of.

Hugo Romanov.

Just thinking his name had my skin prickling with awareness, had every part of me speeding up. Adrenaline rushing through my body gave me this reaction.

“He’ll be here sometime tonight, although I’m not sure what time.” I looked at my father. He leaned back in the dining room chair and lifted his wine glass to his lips. He looked over at my mother, who also had a wine glass in front of her.

“It’s been what, four years since he was last in the States?” my mother asked.

My father nodded. “Yes, for Sabine's high school graduation. Although he came back about a year ago on business, he couldn’t take the extra time to fly out to see us.”

My heart sped up knowing he'd been here, probably states away, yet still closer than when he was in Europe.

“I bet you’re excited to see Hugo again,” my mother said and took a sip of her wine, looking over the rim at me.

I shrugged, not about to show how nervous I was, or how much anticipation thrummed through me.

We’d finished off a bottle of wine between the three of us, and the second bottle was already half empty. I reached out and ran my finger along the base of my glass. “It’s been a long time,” I replied softly, thinking about the last time I'd seen him. I remembered vividly the way he smelled of dark and delicious cologne. But he’d also smelled of aged books and experience, and it was such a heady, intoxicating aroma. On instinct, I lifted my hand and touched the rose gold feather necklace he’d given me. It had been a present from Hugo for my accomplishment on graduating high school, but also making valedictorian.

I'd worn it every day since receiving it.

“You two always had this special bond.”

I looked up at my father after he spoke. “Not really.” He might have been more of a presence in my life when I was younger, and he lived in the States, but I’d never say we'd been close.

“Of course you did. Hugo would spend hours with you at the kitchen table teaching you Russian. Remember?”

I did, vividly. Our last lesson had been when I was seventeen years old, and he'd come to visit after being away on business in Russia.

“That’s because Dad wanted him to make me more 'rounded.'” I smiled at my dad. He’d been teasing when he’d made the suggestion I start learning a language, but Hugo had taken it seriously. For the next two years, from the age of fifteen to seventeen, whenever Hugo was in town, he’d spend hours with me, teaching me his native language—one of the four he spoke fluently.

The truth was I could only speak a handful of phrases of Russian, mainly because I wasn’t able to concentrate when he was near.

But I’d tried to come to the realization that my personal reality did not include Hugo in it.

And even after all these years, it was still hard to make that sink in.




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.



Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon
















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

Author - Are You Getting The Most Bang for your Books?

The writing world has been flooded with so many books, that it's hard for an author to know what to do for promotion these days.  Book tours, writing workshops, facebook ads, twitter, submitting book ads to every blooming group on social media like Pinterest.  Does it help or are you sticking your head in the sand and ticking off potential readers?

Depends on who you ask!  This is my personal opinion and you can take it with a grain of salt (oh yeah my originality these days cracks me up).  I'm not only an author but an avid reader.  Signing on to my facebook page last week I was slammed in the face with the same authors books covering my page blocking out every personal post made by my friends (not that some of these said authors aren't my friends, but keeping it real.)  Know what I did?  I muted every facebook book promoting group so I could see what was really going on outside of the book world.  I know shocking ain't it?  I actually HAVE a life outside of writing and promoting books!

My conclusion?  Pasting your book to 100's of  facebook groups a day is annoying as CRAP for potential readers.  I've been guilty of doing the same thing.  I get it!  You want everyone to know about this great book you've written.  Spamming pages isn't the way to go about it.  I was so ticked off I refused to buy any book I saw being dumped onto my screen and later that night when I was ready to read, I went to a few book sites and picked up what interested me.  What a revelation, right?

So what does this mean for me, the author?  I'm no longer sharing my book with all these groups.  I have a facebook author page, a website, goodreads page, pinterest, and mailing list.  If you don't might I suggest you spend your time working on that instead of annoying the crap out of your facebook friends?  Yes, I've done it.  Want to know how many books I've sold that way (I keep up by linking my books from bitly.com to see where I'm getting hits from)?  Five.  That's right.  Five people who were probably related to me picked up my ebook from facebook.   If you're happy selling five books a month and annoying everyone else, more power to you, but for me, that's not the way I want to do things.


I mean seriously, how many times can  you see the above ad before you say, HEY I get it.  You wrote some book and it's 99cents.  Now shut up so I can talk to my friends!  So if  I'm not spamming facebook with my ads, how am I supposed to get sales?  It's not easy.  If you thought I had some great revelation about how to get my books moving, well I hate to disappoint.  The truth is you've got to build your reader base.  Give away a free book if they sign up for your mailing list.  Put out some content that gives the subject of your ebook without slapping them in the face with book ads, and start relating to your potential readers again. 
I get it.  Writing, promoting, editing, and selling is a full-time job, but losing the personal touch with your readers?  That's a career killer!  That saying about worry about writing your next book instead of promoting the crap out of the current one all the time?  Yeah.  It's true.  Readers are going to find you if the work you're putting out there is quality to them no matter what genre you're writing in.  Do a book blog tour when  you first release your book.  Send ONE (not three or four) email out to your mailing list to let them know you've got something they might be interested in.  Head over to goodreads and put your book up there and put in on bookshelves in groups that share a love for your genre.  Do a press release, since Hollywood can't do anything but release remakes lately, obviously they need some entertainment context out there to find new ideas.  Sorry had to throw that tidbit in.
If you can afford it (which really who can today) go with one of the huge book promoters and let them do what you pay them for.  Share your ARC with readers who will  hopefully tell other readers how dang incredible you are without having to promote yourself like a proud peacock strutting your stuff.  The self-publishing world has EXPLODED with new authors, and to make it in this new world you're going to have to think outside the box!  The tried and true is no longer working. 
And Kindle Unlimited?  Don't get me started.  Many authors are over there I'm sure making a killing... it was a total waste of time for me.  I want my books going out on every platform available (sorry Amazon, I love you but my days of slaving away to fill your pockets are over).  If you're considering going wide... try out Draft2Digital.   
Thanks for joining us at Tears of Crimson. Home to Bestselling Author Michelle Hughes,and all the Friends of Crimson!

Kelly D. Smith - Rock Stars Are Fun

Paige has a policy that she lives by. Musicians are only good for one thing--fun. She doesn't expect it to turn into anything more. But Kyle Kent isn't the type to give up easily. Paige is just his type--damaged. Adding in the fact that she is his best friend's girlfriend's best friend makes everything all the more clear. He's going to win her over, and he's got the inside scoop and a convenient excuse to keep slipping over to her place. But Paige isn't one to easily be won over. She decided a long time ago that she didn't want relationships, and that isn't something she's going to change her mind about. However, she can't deny she's attracted to Kyle and that he's everything she could want. Is she willing to let go of the past and give him a chance? ** A Siren Erotic Romance






Amazon US    Amazon CA     BookStrand    Kobo


Kelly D. Smith is a 21 year old romance writer from Canada. She lives in the prairies with her husband and her dog, who contributes to many walks of inspiration! When she is not writing she can be found looking for fellow Canadian authors, or just devouring a good book.
Growing up home-schooled gave her time to follow her passion- writing- so that she could turn it into a full time career and is now able to wake up every day to a job that she loves. 


“Preference?”“What are my options?” He sounded surprised.“Ribbed, heating, ultra-thin.” At least those were her favorites. Though it doesn’t look like Kyle needs an ultra-thin.Instead of answering her, Kyle closed the distance between them, reaching down and grabbing a random one. He stopped, catching sight of what else she had in the drawer. She turned to look at him. “Was there something else you wanted to use?”A wide grin spread over his face. “That depends on what you’re in the mood for.”Paige, to say the least, had a wide selection of things and highly believed in trying everything at least once.She stood up. “Get whatever you want.”She padded back to the bed and crawled onto it.Kyle came back seconds later, a pair of handcuffs and a vibrator in his hand, along with a butt plug. Paige looked him up and down. “That worried about how well you’ll do?” she teased.Kyle laughed. “No, sweetheart, just want to make sure I’m the best fuck you’ll ever have. And didn’t want to have to get up again if I wanted something else.”Paige’s grin widened. Her heart raced with anticipation.“Turn around.” He motioned for her to turn. She nodded and did as she was told, resting on her knees. As she heard the handcuffs move, she placed her hands behind her back, seconds later feeling cold metal against her wrists. She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath as Kyle’s lips touched the nape of her neck, softly trailing along her back, lower and lower. His hands touched her ass gently. She inhaled sharply as a shiver of arousal ran down her spine.Kyle’s lips worked their way back up to her neck, and over to her shoulder ever so gently. One hand traced over the curves of her body, tangling into her hair and finding a happy home. His other hand left her ass.Smack.Paige gasped, her eyes rolling back as her pussy tingled, wanting to feel Kyle inside her. She didn’t dare say it—not yet. She took a deep breath as Kyle’s hand moved away from her ass again. She felt him press himself against her, his thick cock resting between her legs.His fingers left her hair as he pulled away from her. She turned to see what he was doing. Yes. She watched as she tore into the condom wrapper and placed it over his thick cock. He looked at her.“Turn around.” He raised an eyebrow.Paige’s heart skipped a beat as she did what she was told. She heard her vibrator turn on. She gasped, feeling it against her clit. Her eyes rolled back as his hips buckled against it. Kyle’s cock pressed against her, his free hand touching the small of her back, pushing her down gently. Her face hit the bedding as she felt his head against her folds.The vibrator buzzed against her clit, Kyle’s head pressing against her. Paige bit her lip, waiting.Her heart raced, waiting longer and longer.Kyle thrust into her, fast and hard. Paige gasped, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and pain overwhelmed her. Kyle’s warm hand touched the small of her back gently as he pulled away and thrust back into her. This time, softer.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.Paige moaned, her eyes rolling back. She inhaled sharply.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.Kyle’s free hand ran over her back softly, making its way up to her bound hands. His fingers tangled together with hers, pulling her up softly. Paige moaned louder as his lips touched her neck ever so gently.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.Kyle’s lips traced over Paige’s skin, sending shivers of pleasure over her skin. She moaned louder, her eyes rolling back as Kyle filled her with every thrust. Deeper, faster, harder. Everything Paige wanted without her having to tell him.The vibrator buzzed against her clit. Pleasure overwhelmed Paige. She could feel her orgasm building as Kyle thrust into her faster and faster, his thick cock filling her.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.“Fuck, you’re tight,” Kyle whispered against her ear, his hot breath against her skin. Paige grinned.He wasn’t the first musician to say this to her, and she knew he wouldn’t be the last, but knowing that he thought she was tight, despite all the girls he’d probably fucked, did feel like a bit of a bragging right—not that she’d be bragging about it to anyone.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.Faster and faster. Harder and harder. His lips touched hers softly, his teeth grazing her lower lip. Paige moaned softly, her free hand reaching up and tangling into his hair. Their kiss grew more passionate, their lips crashing together. Paige nipped his lower lip gently, begging permission. His mouth opened as her tongue slipped into his mouth, exploring.Kyle thrust into her again and again.He pulled away just enough to take a deep breath. His lips touched her neck, teeth nibbling gently, slowly making their way over every inch of her neck they could reach.The vibrator buzzed against her body. Pleasure overwhelmed her.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.Paige moaned, her hips arching against his every thrust. Kyle filled her like no one had in a long time. Paige’s moans grew louder.Kyle’s eyes locked on her. His lips touched her cheek softly, moving to her ear lobe. He nibbled gently. He thrust into her faster. Paige adjusted the vibrator, massaging herself with the head of it.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.Paige’s eyes rolled back as everything went a hazy white. She inhaled sharply.“I’m fucking close,” she moaned.Kyle thrust into her faster. Harder.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.“Come for me.”His hot breath against her as he spoke, his cock deep inside her, thrusting. It was enough to send her over the edge.

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

Manhattan Bound Series Review Blitz

Manhattan Bound Series Review Blitz



Book One, Manhattan Bound Series
Against the glittering backdrop of New York City, budding theatrical publicist Maxine Kirk, fresh off the bus from a small Pennsylvania town, stumbles into the arms of her beloved teenage crush, unleashing desires that she never imagined. 

Enter Drew McKenzie, a rising star on Broadway with dashing looks and talent to match, who masquerades behind the characters he portrays. 

Instantly, Maxine finds herself lured into Drew’s high society world only to uncover a complicated man beneath the glitz and glamour of his public persona. As soon as the curtain falls, Drew sheds his stage costumes to reveal a daring Dominant side. 

Titillated by his enigmatic life, Maxine clamors to discover a surreptitious and possibly perilous affair with Drew, all the while questioning her own preconceived notions on romance. 

Secrets surface, revealing haunting truths that test both Maxine and Drew of their own intentions. But in this high-stakes game of trust, only the strongest survive.
[image error] [image error] [image error] [image error]

Book Two, Manhattan Bound Series
When Drew McKenzie presents Maxine Kirk with an ultimatum, challenging her to engage in his wanton brand of desire, she readily embraces her awakening hunger for a lifestyle that defies her perceptions of romance.

Entranced by Drew’s charming appeal and by his sensual assault to her senses, Maxine clamors to discover every nuance of this new relationship, ravenous to explore verboten fantasies that seem possible to fulfill only with Drew.

Along the way, he introduces her to his glamorous world of wealth and celebrity—where lavish galas and luxurious gifts are the norm—and entices her into his realm of control with his tender mode of domination.

All the while, however, they both grapple with painful emotions brought about by the extenuating circumstances of their separate pasts.

While Drew remains both confident and conscientious in his parlay of power over Maxine, his own tragic secret lurks in every shadow upon his path in life. Behind the façade of his stage persona and the origin of old Manhattan society, he struggles to hide the unforgiving reality he faced as a child.

Just as Maxine finds the strength to conquer her own torment with Drew’s patience and guidance leading her toward closure, terrifying truths begin to chip away at the surface of his composure.

As the nightmarish details of Drew’s unimaginable life emerge, he fears that this new world he’d begun to build with Maxine will crumble around him.

As Maxine finds herself embroiled in the battle to save Drew’s tortured soul from the atrocities that continue to stalk his every move, two lost souls struggling to find comfort and completion converge.

However, as Drew opens his heart to Maxine’s unwavering support, he questions his own bravery, wondering if she’ll take a bow and make her exit…or if she’ll stick around for the encore?
[image error] [image error] [image error] [image error]

Book Three, Manhattan Bound Series
As their love continues to flourish, Maxine finds herself ensconced in Drew’s world, where power reigns in his all-consuming lust for her. From a blackout in Manhattan to a back alley in Paris to a castle in the Loire Valley, their passion knows no boundaries. 

All the while, though, traces from their separate pasts continue to haunt, threatening to disrupt their happiness. 

Maxine must confront the harsh, emotional realities that she’d thought she’d conquered. However, she wonders if her courage will withstand the crushing heartache that has threatened to destroy her soul. 

As Drew continues to fit together the missing pieces of his childhood, danger shadows his every move. Drifting through the tumultuous events of their public and personal lives, Drew will stop at nothing to keep Maxine safe—and to guard their secrets from the world. 

Passion and peril collide, culminating in the explosive revelation of the enigma that’s followed Drew for years. 
[image error] [image error] [image error] [image error]
COMING SOON
BOUND Book Four, Manhattan Bound Series
On a journey that brought young Maxine Kirk to Drew McKenzie as a novice submissive, the two lovers explored their most salacious fantasies together. In BOUND by Amazon bestselling author Juliet Braddock, the fourth book in the “Manhattan Bound” Series explores how life, love and lust have flourished between these two unlikely lovers.
Through dungeons and castles in the most glamorous cities around the world, Drew. A rising star on Broadway, brought publicist Maxine’s wanton desires to life, indulging her every need with a lavish but honest display of his affection. And in the course of their relationship, they found a love that could not be shattered.
While they placed their faith in each other, the lives of their friends and families converged. Often, their sexual shenanigans took a backseat to the lives of those most near and dear to them. Their separate worlds became one.
Five years later, changes have come to their lives, and Drew and Maxine find themselves facing a life-altering decision that will impact their ordered world in ways they’d never imagined.
And while their wanderlust and pursuit of kinky pleasures never wane, they discover together that the happiest place on earth really is right in their own chaotic home.
BOUND , the fourth novel in Juliet Braddock’s “Manhattan Bound” series of four books, is available at most major e-book retailers on October 11.





[image error] [image error] [image error] [image error]





Amazon bestselling author Juliet Braddock’s first efforts in creative writing came long before she learned to put crayon to paper.  In fact, she began spinning stories in her head nearly as soon as she could form complete sentences.  As long as she can remember, she’d always created sagas about imaginary friends, family members and pop culture icons, and kept everyone around her entertained with her witty—but often very tall—tales.
For her sixth Christmas, Juliet’s mother got her a child’s typewriter to preserve all of those creative thoughts filling her head, but she quickly switched to ball point pens and notebooks when the ribbon ran dry. 
Most of Juliet’s early attempts at writing romance focused on members of Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet or young leading men on Broadway.  However, as she matured as a writer, she decided that it was just as much fun to create her own romantic heroes and heroines.
At an early age, she also developed a love for big cities, and the tallest of skyscrapers were never high enough for her.  Juliet’s wanderlust would eventually lure her to New York, a city she often visited during her formative years, and her love affair with Manhattan began.  She’d promised herself that one day she would return for good. 
Juliet’s passion for writing and for big cities converged, and after graduating with a degree in Journalism, she decided to set out on a journey to find her heart…just where she’d left it. 
A week after her college graduation, Juliet made the big move from a small town to New York City, where she has made her home ever since.
In between building a career in communications and writing on the side, she’s indulged in international travel, theater and art.  A wine and food buff, she’s by no means a connoisseur, but she can give a few good restaurant recommendations if you’re in the city. 
“There’s something so inspiring about living in a city like New York that’s so rich in culture and so very vibrant. Every neighborhood has its own story to tell,” Juliet says.  “I often do my best plotting on the subway, just observing the lives unfolding around me.  New York truly has a billion stories nestled between the skyscrapers.”
A proud Manhattanite, Juliet couldn’t live anywhere else—except for Paris, perhaps—and is a gushing cat-mom to a Russian Blue mix who was rescued as a kitten from the streets of Brooklyn. 
Find Juliet on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest.
Her website is www.julietbraddock.com

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