 
Title: Grim
Series: King's Harlots MC #2.5
Author: JM Walker
Genre: MC/Military Romance
Release Date: November 28
"An unexpected evil brings both the MC and Military world together in this brand new series by J.M. Walker"
He never thought he could be happy.
Vice-One had been what he needed most, until he met Genevieve Gold.
She can't forget her past.
The walls she'd built are hard to break, even after falling in love with Angel Rodriguez.
They have been together for months, have tried to be happy but still can't find that certain connection—the piece of them that should ignore the evils of life and focus on the love they have for each other.
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J.M. Walker is an Amazon bestselling author who loves all things books, pigs and lip gloss. She is happily married to the man who inspires all of her Heroes and continues to make her weak in the knees every single day.
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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.
Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak. Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels. But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.” In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his. Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door. And throws their lives into total chaos. *** To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe. 
Chapter 1
Jimmy She’s got a hell of a left hook, and her jab is no joke either. It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, with the big blue rubber mouth guard between her teeth and the black padded headgear covering her jaw and cheeks. But I know this: I want to get my hands on that body. Her tight pink tee is low cut and skin tight, and across her breasts are the words: “NOBODY’S PUSSYCAT.” A cold draft blows in from the window, making goosebumps ripple up her arms. A thin stream of sweat runs down into her cleavage, and then I watch her nipples tighten. Christ. With little bounces, she heads back to her corner and bends over for her water bottle. Stretchy black leggings and no panty line. Fuuuuuck. The buzzer dings and we square up. She holds her gloves up to her face, ready to go. They’re bubblegum pink with white cuffs; the girliest weapons I’ve ever seen. But never mind the gloves. It’s those eyes that have me. Shit, those eyes. This crazy deep green. Packers’ green. Jets’ green. Green like cash. Green that could make a guy go right out of his mind. Pow goes a jab into my stomach and I double over, tasting my Gatorade from an hour ago. Before I can breathe, before I can even get up my gloves to slow her down, she pelts me hard with a cross to my sternum that knocks the wind straight out of me. I gasp for air and stagger back into the ropes. “Jesus Christ,” I moan. “Who are you?” Her eyes light up in this smile. This beautiful fucking smile that I feel way down inside. Then she bounces on her toes and smacks her gloves together out in front of her. Whap, whap. “I’m Mary!” she says around her mouth guard. “And you’re slow!” Cute. But, yeah…no. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody. I hurl myself off the ropes, colliding with her in the center of the ring, skin against skin now. I press into her sexy shoulder with my bicep, feeling the sweat between us. She nails me in the gut again; a solid, low-slung straight, and I think, I can’ t hit a girl, can I? No. Fuck, no. So I stretch my arm between us, the padding of my glove holding her steady right below her collarbone. She swings for me but I’m a foot taller and she doesn’t stand a chance. “Jerk!” Obviously. But on the upside, now I can really get a good look at her the way I want to; close up, but not so close that she’s pummeling me. Her legs are solid and I can even see that little curve of her hipbones barely showing through her leggings. I let my eyes follow the line of sweat to her inner thighs, to that wet, hot place where everything comes together. Fuck. I want my hands on that place. I want to feel the softness and the strength. I want to know the taste of that sweat. The way that softness gives under my tongue. Ding goes the buzzer. I push her away, padded knuckles to her shoulder. She spins and gets into her corner, so I do the same. I grab my water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, watching her all the time. She’s fucking beautiful, this one. Fucking gorgeous. The woman of dreams. Of fantasies. From a pink Nalgene, she takes one big gulp, two, and a little water dribbles down her lips, rolling in drops down her throat. Her eyes stay right on mine. Her chest heaves. Her eyes flash. Her lips tighten. And that’s when it happens. She peels off her T-shirt and tosses it to the floor so that the only word showing is PUSSY. Ding. Her body is fucking perfect. I mean perfect. I moan into my mouth guard and I look her up and down. Lean but not thin. Sexy and strong. A fighter’s body. A woman’s body. A body strong enough to take everything I want to give it. And then some. She turns to set down her water bottle, bending at the waist. And that’s when I see it. The tattoo. It’s a ribbon of black lace that runs in a beautiful, feminine line down her back from right shoulder to left hip, curving down into her pants. Tough as hell, pretty as can be. And with the sexiest tattoo I've ever seen in my life. Stick a motherfucking fork in me. I’m done. “Nice ink,” I tell her as we square up again. “Thanks,” she says, leaning in to my shoulder. “I’ve never seen one like it.” I hook my arm around her again and pull her in. I smell something familiar. I can’t place it. She slips free and moves behind me. For one second, all I can hear is her shoes on the mats. “I rebelled when I turned 30. It was either this or a tramp stamp.” “Of what?” I pivot so my face is close against hers. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” She smiles tight around the mouth guard. Her glove comes through the air, cutting through the noise of the gym. Whooosh. I get my right hand up just in time to block her with my glove. The impact rolls down my forearm like I’m nothing but Jell-O. She lets another jab fly but misses me—barely—and I slip around behind her. The hair at the nape of her neck is curly and wet, and a long dark braid runs down her back. That strip of wet fabric at the top of her pants, dark with sweat. “Why are we fighting?” I growl as I get closer. “Why aren’t we out drinking? Making trouble? Fucking around? Let me take you out.” She spins to face me, her eyes wide open, surprised. “You wanna drink with me?” “Hell yes, I do. And a lot of other things.” “You want me? Fight me.” She fires her bubblegum pink cannons at my stomach with a one-two combination that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a 283-pound heavy bag. I try to get in a left cross, but she’s way faster than I am and comes up from under with a hook straight out of Manila. That one got me in my brainpan, in my marrow. “Fuck that,” I snarl. “Atta boy!” No way. Nobody atta boys me. I’m Jimmy Goddamned Falconi. I’m nobody’s boy. Never. “Atta girl.” I nudge her in the shoulder with my chest. Around her guard, she says, “You fight like you’re in molasses. But you’re strong. You some kind of athlete?” At first, I’m about to laugh. For about one second, I think I might be on Candid Camera or something. I mean, I can’t walk to the bathroom on an airplane without someone asking me to sign a cocktail napkin. I can’t get through Costco without someone asking me to sign their shopping list. Some kind of athlete? I’m Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi. Quarterback for the Chicago Goddamned Bears. I’m somebody. But there’s zero recognition in her eyes. No flicker of the fangirl. No sign she’s playing it cool either. To her, I’m just a guy getting his ass kicked by a girl in pink gloves. “Hello?” She presses into my chin with a slow uppercut from the right. I snap out of it. I don’t even know how to answer her. I play quarterback for the Bears. Ever heard of them? Or maybe, Ever heard of football? America’s Game? Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to start. I’ve never had to explain it. People just know. “Yeah, I like to work out.” “Then act like it,” she says, all piss and vinegar, and puts her guard back in her mouth. Wham comes that jab into my gut. Pow goes the straight to my pecs. I loop one arm around her and pull her body in close, hooking the back of her neck with the crook of my elbow. I pull her closer, tighter, both arms around her, to get a feel for her…but also to give myself a goddamned break. She struggles a little, trying to squirm free, but I see the smile on her face, the crinkle of the skin at her eyes. I pull her head closer to mine. I must be twice her weight; no way is she going to get free now. We are the welterweight and the super heavyweight. Wrong class totally. But then she wedges her forehead in against my chest. I watch her wind up, her biceps flexing, and, boom-boom-boom. Every time she connects, I lose a little more air and groan, “Fuck-fuck-fuck!” “Atta boy!” Fuck. That. So I keep her pinned and she starts fighting harder, which makes me want to hang on to her more. I press my nose against her head. In her thick brown hair, I can smell her shampoo, her conditioner. Coconut. While I’m distracted by that smell, thinking of sunscreen and ukulele music and drinks with umbrellas and her on a beach, she slips out from under my arms and pops up in my face. Well, shit. “What, you chicken? Gonna hit me back? Or do you want to dance around for an hour or two? Because I can totally do that. I just have to go home to feed the dog.” Whap-whap go her padded fists. Oh no, no way. No way am I going to let a pretty little thing talk to me like that. I sniff hard and man up. I give her a jab. A hook. A cross. And she blocks me every damned time. Blocks me like she’s fought me before, or like she’s known all along what I’ll do when it comes down to it. Fucking wax-on-wax off, one-two-three. Pow-pow go her gloves into my side, and fuck. I think I feel those it in my spleen. Enough. Enough. Anger boils up through me like cheap vodka after a long night. I’m Jimmy Falconi. And I’m gonna make this girl know my name. I crack my neck side to side and get serious. I suck air through the holes in my mouth guard and get my fists up. I edge her into the corner and those eyes flash at me. She’s sweating hard and her mascara is smudged. Her hair is mussed and her skin is slick. It makes her look dangerous. Angry. I’d like to smudge that mascara a little more. In bed. Immediately. But first, I’m going to show her who’s boss. The more she works herself up, the hotter she gets. That’s when something catches my eye. There’s something written on the white cuffs of her gloves. All fuzzy, written in black marker: On the right glove: HERE COMES… On the left:…TROUBLE! Whomp. She nails me in the jaw with a haymaker, and my molars shake. “Come the fuck on,” I growl back at her, with my glove pressed to the side of my face. She smacks her gloves together, and lowers her chin. “Are we sparring or chatting? Hit me!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Butterfly, bee. Whap, whap, whap. “I’m not going to break!” I work my jaw open and closed a few times thinking, Okay. Fine. Fine. I didn’t think it was going to go like this, but I can roll with a hostile defense, sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. I give her the old elevator stare—up, down, up again—and get stuck on her belly button for a little too long. But then I get a game plan together. I figure I can hit her in the stomach. Not too hard, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know who’s in charge here. Which would be me. Me, pussycat. Me. Nudging the edge of her shoulder with my glove, I drive her backwards. Our eyes lock and I get this…this…prickle all through me. This woman. This one. Right here. I want her. So fucking bad. The fucking gym with its ten phones playing mariachi goes silent. The guys by the cooler egging her on go silent. It’s just her and me and the sweat dripping between us. Soft skin, sparkling eyes. She smells like a summer day and she’s looking at me in a way that no woman has ever looked at me. Ever. Like she’s gonna own me and she knows it. Which is bullshit. She gives me a little lift of her chin and tightens her lips around the guard. She wipes her nose with her glove and then lowers her head. “Come on! You going to fight or are you just going to screw around?” With my left hand, I jab her softly in the stomach. With the right, a play-hook to the jaw. I raise her chin on my glove so her eyes come up to mine. Then I pull her close, my arm around the back of her neck again. “You wanna screw around?” I say into her ear. Bam, another hit to the stomach. “I haven’t even gotten started,” she answers. Fuck it. She wants to play? Fucking fine. I'll play. I'll play hard. I square up. But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky like no eyes I've ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ. But I can take her. Yeah, I sure fucking can. Probably. I decide on a straight jab; a no-fail straight jab that I plan just hard enough to send her reeling but not hurt her, not actually injure her. I know the punch. It works in bar fights and brawls on the field. An all-American move. As I wind up, everything slows down. I’m 6’6”, 283 pounds, and I throw a football for a living. When I wind up, I wind up. As I do, she ducks, fast as fucking lightning. Greased. Elegant. Lethal. So as my arm is powering through the air, as my momentum gets caught behind 12-ounce training gloves, she pops back up like a goddamned whack-a-mole. Those eyes flash again and she smiles so hard I can see her dimples. Dimples. Oh, fuck. I watch her shoulder tighten, her tricep pucker, and that’s when she lets me have it for real. The punch comes from left to right, blocking out my view of everything. I don’t see the Mexican flag on the wall. I don’t see the graffiti mural over the windows. Nope. The universe turns bubblegum pink. It doesn’t hurt, not at first, and as I’m flying backwards, airborne, I have just enough time to think to myself, I wonder if this is what a knockout punch feels like… Before everything flickers to black. 
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.
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Title: Bend
Series: Vegas Heat #1
Author: Molly McLain
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: Novem
The Hardass
Focused and in control at all times. Most people think I’m a prick—and I’ll be the first to admit that’s probably true. But I’d rather be a take-no-shit cop than the kind of man genetics says I should be. You break the law, you pay the price. I don’t give a damn if you’re the captain’s daughter or the Queen of friggin’ England.
The Princess
I have no patience for the cocky men my father oversees. Or maybe it’s just Sergeant Hardass who gets under my skin. Not only is he sexy as sin, he refuses to cut me a break.
And now I have to work with the arrogant jerk.
I shouldn’t want him, but a secret part of me craves his unforgiving edge. He could give me everything I need, but, first, I have to break down his walls.
I have to make him bend.
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Like many novelists, especially romance writers, my infatuation with a good love story began early. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I’ll admit that Barbie and Ken acted more than a couple of the story lines I had in my head (sorry, Mom, but, no, not all of them were kid-appropriate). The obsession continued to grow as I got older and, whenever I left home, I always had a wire-bound notebook and a blue ballpoint pen in hand. In fact, every August, I still get that goofy, schoolgirl itch to buy up oodles of pens and paper, because, while I love my laptop, nothing compares to writing long-hand. If the house is quiet and there’s a thunderstorm rumbling outside, even better.
Not that I have the slightest a clue what a quiet house is anymore. Having three rambunctious (but awesome) kids, a zippy dog and a pesky cat has completely blurred my memory of peace and quiet. Oh, and I have a husband too–I call him the FisherGuy–and he’s probably louder and crazier than all the rest. I think I’ll keep him though. After all, he keeps me in fresh fish year-round (yum!) and he’s good hero material. Did I mention he’s also a firefighter?
We live in Northern Wisconsin and, let me tell ya, living here has provided lots of small-town fodder for this writer’s overactive imagination. Of course, I know no one who’s lived anything close to the steamy experiences I write about (not that I’d tell ya if I did *wink*). There’s something inherently sexy about not knowing what goes on behind closed doors…or even better, letting my imagination run free, concocting all kinds of stories and scenarios and putting them down on paper. Or my laptop.
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Title: Jax
Author: J.L. Perry
Publisher: Hachette Australia
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 27, 2016
Blurb
My name is Jaxson Albright. To my friends I’m known as Jax. I’m the disgraced son of well-known Politician, Malcom Albright. You could say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I was supposed to follow in my father’s footsteps and move into politics. My whole childhood was spent being groomed for this role, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I had other plans. To my family’s disgust, I’m inked, I’m pierced and I own and run a tattoo parlour, in the hip suburb of Newtown. I fit in here. I can be the man I was destined to be, the man my family are ashamed of. The son they regret having. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for my saviour, Candice. My pink-haired angel. We grew up in the same circle, but like me, she’s an outcast. She refused to conform to society’s ways. She’s the only one who stuck by me and not only encouraged, but supported my dream. I love her. No, correction—I’m in love with her. I have been for as long as I can remember. She has no idea how I feel. It’s a battle I struggle with daily. I’ve kept my secret all these years because I couldn’t risk losing her. That’s a chance I’m not prepared to take, because she’s my best friend; my only real family. I’ve spent the last few years moving from one hot chick to the next, trying to mask these feeling I have. But it doesn’t help—I can’t get her out of my head. She still owns my damn heart. How do you get over the girl you know you can never have? And how do you live without the one person on this earth who is made for you? She’s my soulmate.
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**VOTED BEST NEW AUTHOR FOR 2014 IN AUSROM TODAY'S READERS CHOICE AWARDS**
J L Perry is a mother and a wife. She was born in Sydney, Australia in 1972, and has lived there her whole life. Her love of reading, from a young age, gave her the passion to write. My Destiny was originally written for her sister, in 2013. It was never intended to be published. However, after finishing this book, she felt there was still a lot of Brooke and Logan's story left to tell. This inspired her to write My Forever. With the encouragement of her family and friends, she decided to follow her dream and become a published Author. That dream was realised on the 6th of June, 2014. My Destiny is her debut novel in the Destiny Series. My Forever is the conclusion to this book. Her third book Damaged - Jacinta's Story was released October 15th, 2014. This is a stand alone book, but is based on a character in My Forever. Her fourth book Against All Odds, is a stand alone book, as well, but part of the Destiny Series. Due to be released on the 27th May, 2015. She's also currently writing a fifth book, a standalone, that will be released later in the year. It's called 'A Beautiful Bastard'. This is NOT part of the Destiny Series. J L's love of romance and happy endings makes a perfect combination when it comes to writing her beautiful love stories. Her hobbies include reading, writing, drinking wine, shopping, listening to music, and anything artistic or creative. She loves spending time with her family, friends and her dog when she isn't writing. She also loves being outdoors and travelling and exploring the world.
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Title: The Marked Box Set
Author: Elena M Reyes
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: November 25
This bundle includes all four books in the Marked Series and three never before seen outtakes. Discover all over again why so many are head over panties in love with Talan.
Bonus: Cox's Sh*t List. Lance Kisses Ass. Simon Has A Question To Ask.
Marking Her (Marked #1 Series)
Talan Cox wants to mark Maya--with more than his ink. The owner of a prominent tattoo shop, he's used to being hit on by easy women. Though "easy" is not a word associated with Maya when she comes in to support her friend. Flirtation ensues, but what will it take to break the painted man?
Marking Him (Marked #2 Series)
The day Maya Owens walked into his tattoo shop, everything Talan knew changed. After officially starting a relationship, he is now having trouble managing Maya--a woman who consumes every part of his being and owns his heart. His need to control her and everything around her drives Maya insane, but he has good reason. After all, Janice is still lurking around and she has a vendetta against his Bitty.
Scars (#2.5 Marked Series)
Abandoned. Thrown away. Invisible. Every single one of those could be used to describe me. They can tell you my story--my sad past--without a single syllable passing through my lips. I hate them--those who lied to me. They claimed to love me, but in reality they used me when convenient. My parents. Sister. And now Talan. Loving them has left me empty.
Marked (Marked #3 Series)
"With everything I am. I'll always be by your side." It was his truth. A vow Talan made to the woman who owned him. Because that is what Maya did to him; she held his entire life in her hands. He lived for her smile...her happiness, and now someone has dimmed that light in her eyes with their malice. How does a man so completely in love with his female react to seeing her in a hospital bed and broken? He fights. Goes against all logic and seeks vengeance.  
 
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Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned. Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn't until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.
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Title: Tormented
Series: Fallen Aces MC #3
Author: Max Henry
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: December 12, 2016
She’s perfect. And broken, like you … Unaware of how beautiful she is. And how much worse her life could be … She’s cast out for being different, misunderstood, or simply too complicated to bother with. Just. Like. You … She’s still perfect. Because after all, you can’t break what’s already broken, and you can’t hurt what already suffers. Or can you …?
“He sent you, then? Interesting.” The low resonance of his words ends on a lion’s purr.
I tip my head back to look into his bruised face—evidence he’s still working, still collecting for the reaper—as he blocks out the sun with his size. He’s over six-foot of bulk, which means my five-foot three petite stature fits snugly into his shadow.
And as much as I’ve tried to tell myself my memory is a goddamn liar, it still comforts me.
“Apparently I fly below the radar.”
His eyes roam lazily over me, settling on the full sleeve I had tattooed a few weeks back. My breath hitches, betraying the fucking confidence I was trying for, as he reaches out and hooks a thick finger in the leg of my cut-offs. Breathe through it. Breathe. You’ve got through it without giving in before, you can do it again.
“Still getting’ around with your ass hangin’ out, Abbey-girl?”
“Did you think I only did it for you?” I mock.
“How long has it been, anyway?”
I chuckle, shifting my gaze back to his disturbingly beautiful face. He expects me to know how many weeks he’s been in Cali and blurt it out, giving away the fact I’m still painfully aware of him. Yeah, I know how long it’s been, but I ain’t playing that game … yet.
“No idea,” I answer, dealing the nonchalant card as I shrug my shoulders. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
His eyes darken as he reaches out and places both his meaty paws on my ass cheeks. I force a smile as his fingers skim the hem of my cut-offs where it slices a line over the firm globes. I close my eyes briefly as memories of how good it felt last time his hands were on me come in thick and fast. His touch trails up my back, dipping in at my waist, and pushing the hem of my tank up, exposing my flat stomach as he brings his palms to rest below the swell of my breasts.
Just a few more minutes and he’ll be done. You can do it.
My fight or flight is going haywire. I need to get away, to place distance between us, but at the same time I’m disgusted on the most part by how easy it seems to keep my feet in place. Anyone else, and they’d be cradling a broken wrist for this, my go-to defense when unwanted hands get too close. But this isn’t just anyone—it’s Sawyer, and it seems that my body still doesn’t know how to lie.
I want it.
But I shouldn’t.
He still wants me.
And I should hate that.
But I’m waiting to see what he does next.
Too much at once, Abbey.
“Still tellin’ the truth, I see,” he teases, swiping his thumbs over my pert nipples before he lets go and steps back.
The sun lances across my face, forcing me to look down to save my eyes watering up. “You want to know why he sent me yet?” I draw a deep, equalizing breath.
“Because you begged him to come?” God, he’s always been such an arrogant bastard.
“Hardly.”
He juts his chin forward, and his tongue peeks out, running along the ridge of his teeth. “What then?”
“War is on, Pretty Boy.” I smile. “It’s time to take daddy down.”
   
 
 Max is the author of dark, and highly emotional romance. Her Butcher Boys series is centered around a group of ex-street kids who have teamed up with an indebted motorcycle club to take down a notorious drug lord. And her new series, the Fallen Aces MC, is a spin-off from this dark and dangerous world. Her writing has been described as 'gripping', and 'addictive', taking you on an 'emotional roller coaster ride'.
Originally born and bred in New Zealand, Max now resides with her family in beautiful and sunny Queensland, Australia. Life with two young children can be hectic at times, and although she may not write as often as she would like, Max wouldn't change a thing. When she's not engrossed in her dark and twisted fictional worlds, she can be found enjoying the outdoors while 4wd-ing with her family.       
 
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Title: The Girl Worth Fighting For
Author: Julia Goda
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 14
Bruises fade.
A cut can be bandaged,
A broken bone healed.
But can a wounded heart mend?
Deeply damaged by her father’s abandonment when she was fourteen years old, Rainey Miller has let the fear of getting hurt shape and trap her to the point she refuses to connect with people on a deeper level. She is popular and has friends, but her strict dating rules prevent anyone from the chance to touch her heart.
Up and coming boxer, Logan Danvers, has his eyes set on the raven-haired beauty with the cerulean eyes. No matter how hard she tries to push him away, he will push back even harder.
Until she gives in.
Until she is his.
Because once he sets his eyes on what he wants, he doesn’t give up.
It’s who he is.
But what will he do when he realizes it’s not who he is but what he is that could cost him his chance with Rainey? Will he give up or will he find a way to make her realize she is The Girl Worth Fighting For?
Game on, firecracker.
He knew he was going to love this. All the frustration he had experienced in the past month about this woman--his woman—he now welcomed. It fuelled his determination. Nothing and nobody would keep him from claiming her. Not even Rainey herself.
When he reached her, the room was still quiet, but now her eyes were back on him. Logan could see that her shield was back up and he looked forward to taking on the challenge of taking it down once and for all.
“What do you want?” Her voice was snippy and dismissive.
Oh, yeah. I’m gonna enjoy this.
Logan’s smile grew into a grin, resulting in Rainey putting her one free hand on her hip.
“You know what I want. I’ve made myself crystal clear. More than once.”
She clenched her teeth. “So have I.”
“I don’t think you have, baby.” Her eyes narrowed on him further at hearing the endearment. He moved in closer, trapping her between him and the couch.
“Um,” he heard murmured from beside him, from Ashley he thought. But he ignored it as he lifted his hand and cupped Rainey’s cheek, then kept moving it until his hand was in her hair at the back of her neck. Rainey froze at his touch, something he had anticipated. Then she tried to get out of his hold and started moving sideways, also something he had anticipated. He tightened his hold on her neck and pulled her into him, all the while holding her eyes, telling her he understood, that he knew she was scared of getting hurt, but that it didn’t matter. That he was done holding back and giving her time, that he was going to stake his claim right here, right now, and that from that moment on she was going to be his. That he promised to not hurt her like she had been hurt before, that there was no reason to be scared. He had no idea if she could read him like he hoped she could, but she had also stopped pulling away, so he took that as a good sign. He pulled her closer still, that one last inch that separated them, and his mouth was on hers, kissing her. He didn’t go easy. He gave her a full-on, no-holds-barred wet and deep kiss. As soon as his tongue touched hers, he knew deep in his soul that this woman was the one. Rainey was his and he was hers. There was no doubt. It was like an electric shock was running though his tongue and expanded through the rest of his body. He was extremely aware of the fact that his body was reacting accordingly and did everything he could to control himself, since they were in public, surrounded by teenagers, at her place of work. Which was extremely difficult to do when her tongue started tangling with his and her hands had come up to hold on to his biceps for dear life.
He had her.
He knew it.
Fuck, yes.
AMAZON * AMAZON UK * AMAZON CAAMAZON AU * AMAZON DE
Julia Goda is the self-published author of the Cedar Creek Series and The Girl Series, both of which have their first two novels published, but still have lots more to come.
Her novels touch on all kinds of different topics, but the things she tries to focus on no matter what are romance, strong women, alpha men, and overcoming emotional trauma.
When she’s not in her writing cave, spinning the tales that have been hounding her or editing (yes, she is also a professional editor,) she enjoys reading, drinking coffee, eating good food, and listening to rock music.
Her current home is Southern Alberta, Canada, where she lives close enough to the Rockies with her husband and two Labs to enjoy the beauty and excitement that is mountain living.
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Welcome to the Ghost Riders Motorcycle Club…where you’ll find happily ever afters, no cheating, and sugary-sweet alphas that love to get on their knees.
This gritty series is one of our favorites and includes some of the best Alexa Riley characters ever!
This bundle includes Pulling her Trigger, Beauty and the Biker, Letting Her Lead, Pulling His Trigger, and Riding Him.
If you’ve never read it, now’s the time. Grab the complete series by the handles and saddle up. It’s safe, dirty, and ready to ride…just like your mom. Sorry, we’re immature.
Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes.
They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you!
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Today we are sharing some teasers from NEEDING THE MEMORIES by Terri Anne Browning. This novella is part of The Rocker series. Check out the pre-order links below and some teasers from the book.
NEEDING THE MEMORIES by Terri Anne BrowningThe Rocker Series novellaComing December 6th!BLURB:Happy Ever After doesn’t end at the Epilogue. The Epilogue is really only the beginning. For us, it’s meant sharing every high, every low, and loving each other even more when we come out the other side still standing. He’s everything I’ve always wanted. My best friend. My lover. My husband… My Demon. And I’m his Angel. Our life hasn’t always been perfect, but to me as long as I get to wake up to Angel in my arms every morning and get to tuck our girls into bed at the end of each day I’ll be the happiest man in the world. Nothing can come between us, nothing can tear us apart. Only…I have one regret. One that is still a black void in my head. Every year it’s the same. The regret. The self-loathing for the man I was back then. The anger that I’d taken something from the woman who has given herself to me so freely and being unable to remember a single second of it. This year it’s worse for me. It’s slowly driving me crazy. Maybe it’s time to hit rewind and give us both a do over for that night. Maybe what I really need is a memory to replace that empty blackness that is trying to swallow me whole.PRE-ORDER NOWAmazon US | B&N | Kobo | iBooksAmazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CAAmazon DE | Amazon FR | Amazon BR | Amazon IN |
Author: JaniceBBBf-sizzlereads-bestbookboyfriends & L.A.B.B Archives
September 2018
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Terri Anne Browning is the USA TODAY bestselling author of The Rocker...Series. She started writing her own novellas at the age of sixteen, forcing her sister to be her one woman fan club. Now she has a few more readers and a lot more passion for writing. Being dyslexic, she never thought a career in writing would be possible, yet she has been on best selling lists multiple times since 2013. Reese: A Safe Haven Novella was her first Indie published book. The Rocker Who Holds Me changed the tables and kicked off The Rocker... series featuring the sinfully delicious members of Demon's Wings. The Rocker... Series has since expanded to OtherWorld with Axton Cage and his band members. Other books by Terri Anne include the Angel's Halo MC Series as well as The Lucy & Harris Novella Series. Terri Anne lives in Virginia with her husband, their three demons---err, children--and a loveable Olde English Bulldog named Link.
Contemporary romance and romantic suspense … written with feeling L.A is an author of contemporary romance novels ranging from sweet with just a hint of steam, to suspenseful reads full of angst, tension, twists, and turns. Home is a small town in the middle of England where she currently juggles being a full-time mum to two little people with writing. In her spare time (and when she’s not camped out in front of the laptop) you’ll most likely find L. A immersed in a book, escaping the chaos that is life.
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