Dishonorable by Natasha Knight is NOW LIVE!
"OMG!! When I started this for the life of me I couldn't put it down GOD I LOVED the SH*T out of this BOOK!!" - Kitty Kat's Crazy About Books
I knew little of Raphael Amado’s history with my family, but when he turned up on our doorstep demanding restitution, my grandfather quickly conceded. That restitution? Me.
Six months later, on my eighteenth birthday, Raphael came for me. He stole me from my home, taking me to his Tuscan estate, where from the crumbling chapel to the burnt-down vineyard, to the cellar that haunted him, the past stalked him like a shadow. It waited for him, hid behind corners for him and trapped him at every turn.
As much as Raphael’s cruelty terrified me, his darkness seduced me. But in the end, it was his tenderness that devastated me.
Sofia came to me like an offering. Like a virgin to be sacrificed at the altar. But truth was, her grandfather betrayed her. I guess we had that in common. He’d screwed me too.
I knew hate. I'd vowed vengeance. This was never supposed to be about anything else. But in the end, her innocence broke me. The very thing I would destroy, destroyed me.
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling author Natasha Knight writes dark romance as well as spanking romance in a variety of genres including contemporary, paranormal, post-apocalyptic, science-fiction and fantasy. She is a #1 Amazon Bestseller in multiple categories forever searching in every story for that single most important element of love. All of her stories contain at least one kinky Alpha male, lots of dirty talk and a well deserved happily ever after.Connect with Natasha: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Natasha-Knight-Author-Page-386742471394951/?ref=hl Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/YDOMf Website: http://www.natasha-knight.com/ Amazon: http://amzn.to/28Y6Ka0 Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6478732.Natasha_Knight
Stolen by the Arziani Georgian crime mob as a child, 152 was raised and conditioned to be a Mona—the most subservient of the Arziani Blood Pit slaves.
Gorgeous and kind, she has been and under the imprisoning influence of the Type B drug and under the command of the Blood Pit Master’s sister, Mistress Arziani, for most of her life, until the Master calls her back home to Georgia.
He wants her under his total control, and Master always gets what he wants.
But when 152 is gifted to the Blood Pit’s fearsome champion death match fighter as a prize, 152 suddenly finds out that the men who appear most brutal, may just own the kindest hearts. And love may be found, even when living in hell.
Freedom, family, love, 152 will have to fight for what she wants and ultimately make an impossible choice.
He nuzzled his cheek against mine and said, “He wants you.” He stilled. In a flash, the cruel soul from last night possessed his being. Snapping his head up, lips curling, he hissed, “My High Mona. My pretty delicate petal. I don’t want to let you go, but it will serve a higher purpose.” His cheeks flushed with excitement. “Then I can own you completely. When my empire is secure, I can have you all day and all night. I will possess you in every pos- sible way.”
My blood turned cold at his words. Feeling a wetness on my wrist, I glanced over and saw blood trickling downward. Master saw it too and clicked his fingers at Maya, who was hovering like a shadow in the corner. “Clean it, chiri,” he snarled. Maya rushed to the water and wet a cloth, immediately cleaning my wrist. I tried to meet her eyes, but she kept her head down.
When my wrist was clean, I stared at the silver bracelet and im- mediately knew it was the drugs. Instead of a single injection, this would give me regular, automatic doses. The male in the white coat quickly moved around the table, unshackling me from the bed. Master helped me stand. When he did, he stepped back and ranged his gaze all over me.
“Perfection,” he whispered. I could see genuine pride in his ex- pression. Reaching down to his crotch, Master palmed his harden- ing length. “So fucking perfect,” he murmured. No sooner had his words left his mouth and he withdrew his hand than the ruthless Master of the Blood Pit suddenly reappeared.
With a surreal blankness now on his face, he walked out the door and called for a guard. When a Wraith arrived, Master in- structed, “Take her to him. Lock her in his cell.” He smiled that sadistic smile and added, “Don’t let him out until he fucks her.”
I heard Maya’s almost inaudible gasp beside me. But I raised my head and prayed that my fear wasn’t showing. Master pointed to the guard. “Follow him.”
I walked forward. Just before I reached the guard, Master gripped my arm and slammed my back against the wall. Before I could catch my breath, he smashed his lips to mine, ravishing my mouth with his.
Master abruptly pulled back, then stormed toward Maya. I didn’t understand what he was about to do, until he gripped her by the back of her neck and slammed her small body against the wall. I stood, motionless, as Master lifted his hand and sliced it across her face. He was taking everything out on her. She was too young to take such a cruel hand!
Desperate, my eyes drifted to Maya’s, and my heart cracked when I saw in her eyes that she was no longer in the room. Merci- fully, she had taken herself elsewhere.
By her reaction, I realized this wasn’t something new. Master had done this to the young girl before. Beat her. Hurt her, as though she was nothing . . . not even a human at all.
I felt sick to my stomach.
“Move!” The guard beside me ordered, as I stared helplessly at Maya hurting on the floor.
The male who had attached the bracelet worked on something at the back of the room, offering Maya no help. A surge of anger burned within me.
“I said move!” the guard snapped. I forced myself to follow him out of the room, ignoring the young boys in the cages, and into the hallway. When we reached the forked section, this time we went down the right hallway and descended. Unlike the left hallway, where it grew lighter the farther we walked, this hallway grew darker and danker.
My fear grew with every step we took. Then we reached a nar- row hallway. There was a wider hallway to the left. I started when, from that direction, I heard the loud sound of males shouting. I swallowed back my nerves when the guard walked straight ahead. The noise faded the farther we traveled, until we arrived at a small section housing only a few cells. It was much quieter here.
I tried to understand where we were. The guard walked past the cells. I tried to peer in, but unlike others I had seen, these had some semblance of privacy. I heard soft moans coming from one. Instinc- tively, I knew that a female was being pleasured.
The guard stopped and reached for the door before us. When the door opened, the guard looked at me and snapped, “Get in.” I hesitated when I looked inside. I couldn’t see anyone in there, the room was so dark.
When I didn’t move, the guard gripped my arm and hauled me forward. He pushed me inside. I stumbled, landing on the hard ground of the cell. My heart beat hard as I lifted my head. When I did, pure terror seized me.
Sitting on a mattress before me was him. The Blood Pit Cham- pion. The Arziani Pit Bull. Master’s greatest warrior.
And he was glaring at me.
Unmoving. Hatred spewed from his hard gaze.
I drew in a short breath, but it was cut off when 901 rolled to his feet. He stepped forward, his huge body towering above me. I choked back a scream.
He was the most intimidating male I had ever encountered. And I was trapped in his cell.
Completely alone. In the unwelcome company of a killer. And there was absolutely nothing I could do.
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.
by Janine Infante Bosco Nomad #2 Publication Date: March 7, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense
#FREE with #KindleUnlimited!
I’ve lived two lives.
One full of innocence and one full of sin.
I mourned the perfect life I was born into and made it my duty to chase the phantom who stole it from me.
Revenge, mayhem and loss are all I know.
I am the lone man—I am the wanderer.
The former nomad—now, Satan’s deadliest soldier.
The two worlds were never supposed to collide. Innocence and sin aren’t made to coexist yet somehow my past bleeds into the present and I find myself facing my biggest regret…I find myself face to face with her—the girl who got away.
The girl I let go.
The woman I’ll ruin if I stay.
Our young love was marred by violence.
Our guilt destroyed us, fate tempted us but, it was he who broke us.
They say time heals all, but all time did was dull the ache of his abandonment.
Now, dressed in leather, covered in ink the boy I mourned is now a man—a man tormented by his demons.
In another life we were everything to one another.
In this life we’re strangers.
*NOTE* Each book in the Nomad series can be read as a STANDALONE.
DON'T MISS THE BIKER FULL OF DIRTY PROMISES! GRAB YOUR COPY OF #DRIFTER, BOOK #1 IN THE NOMAD SERIES!
AVAILABLE #FREE with #KINDLEUNLIMITED!
I’m a drifter. A man born to ride through this world alone. There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives. I was going to be a true American hero. But God had another plan. Or maybe Satan did. For everything I touch finds mortality. I’m no hero. I’m nothing. I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell. Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos. The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes. A girl who has the power to turn me inside out. A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior. Until she’s not. But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.
Strong. Independent. Fierce. They are the three things I strived to be. But sometimes being successful can be lonely. Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her. Maybe even love her. Sometimes the strong become vulnerable. Or worse, the victor becomes the victim. Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you. Defeated. Broken. Haunted. They are the three things I have become. In my darkest hour I admit defeat. In my darkest hour I need one person. I need him. Stryker.
***NOTE: DRIFTER is a STANDALONE novel. Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***
ABOUT JANINE INFANTE BOSCOJanine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild. Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself. She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.
ENTER THE GIVEAWAY
Title: Deathstalkers MC Books 1-3
Author: Alexis Noelle
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: March 13, 2017
How hot can you handle it?
They are bikers.
They are rough, rugged, and raunchy.
The men of the Deathstalker MC Club are also loyal to the core. They stand by their club without question or fear, and when it comes to their women, there's no holding them back.
They love fiercely and ferociously.
These men play for keeps, getting what they want when they want it.
No turning back.
So hop on and take a ride on the wild side--if you dare.
Alexis Noelle lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with her husband, and three kids. On top a writing career, she is a full-time student and a full-time mom. She loves spending time with her kids, although she has to hide the computer from them when she is writing! She love being active and being outdoors, especially if it involves any kind of shopping. She has always been passionate about writing. She loves to read romance books and feels like being able to lose yourself in a book is one of the more exciting aspects. The books she loves to read and write will be ones that make you feel for the characters. Ashley believes that you should have an opinion on every character in a book whether you love them, hate them, or think they are up to something.She also believes that the most important critic is your reader, so she loves to hear from the readers. She want her fans to be open & talk to her about what they want for the characters in the story, and what they would like to see happen.
The Sex Bucket List by Prescott Lane Release Date: March 9th Genre: Contemporary Romance
Emerson’s a sexy mom of three.
And if you call her a MILF, I’ll kick your a**.
She’s got a sex “to do” list, and I’m just the man to help her check some things off.
But this isn’t my story. It’s hers.
Unfortunately for me, her story involves an ex-husband, a kid that hates me, and a pretty nice shot to my nuts. She’s a woman who thinks too much, always with a plan, a list, but I’ve got a list of my own.
Mateo likes to tease me that I have lists for my lists. But I didn’t hear him complaining when he stumbled upon my Sex Bucket List.
This is the story of how I brushed the cobwebs off my sex life, put myself back onto my list and not only fell in love with a younger man, but with myself, as well.
Grab a pen and make your own Sex Bucket List!
Excerpt:Our kiss is hard and rough, and it has my legs clenching together. His hands go to my ass, pulling my dress up slightly, lifting me up onto the edge of my desk, grinding against me. Wearing a wrap dress today was a good call. I usually wear wrap dresses because they are no fuss, add a nice cinch to my waist, and feel like pajamas. Easy access wasn’t one of the reasons, but I’m thankful for it now. Wrestling with his shirt, I yank it out of his pants, desperate to feel his skin under my fingertips. His tongue finds my neck, and he kisses a path along my collarbone. I thrust against every hard inch of him. He pulls on the tie of my dress, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Picking me up, he pushes me up against the floor-to-ceiling window. I can’t remember the last time a guy banged me up against a wall, or a window, for that matter. This is a perk of being with a younger man. Am I really going to do this? In my office? In the middle of the day? He must feel my hesitation because he lowers my legs to the ground, flipping me towards the window, his hard dick pushing up against my ass, his warm breath tickling my neck. He whispers in my ear, “Number 19. Orgasm in a public place. I’m saying this counts.” I look down the few stories to the busy Atlanta street, the neighboring building. Roughly, he forces my legs apart with his foot then reaches his hand between my legs and pushes my panties to the side. “Your list belongs to me,” he says, his voice hard.
(Free in Kindle Unlimited)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2m0FrlU
Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/dB7JFy
About the Author:Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She's got six other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace, Layers of Her, and The Reason for Me. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life.
Connect with the Author:
Title: One Final Breath
Author: LK Collins | @authorLKCollins
Release Date: February 27 2017
All Graphics Made by: Prezidential Visions | http://prezidentialvisions.weebly.com/
Sometimes itâs all we get and one moment could change it all.
I hate the number oneâit haunts me; my every waking moment is a constant reminder of what I lost.
One day, I met a guy and I fell in love.
He asked me one questionâ¦I said yes.
Our life was perfectâ¦until one day everything changed.
I watched him slowly slip and fade away.
The one person I loved, my best friend, my partner, my everything, was slowly dying right in front of my eyes.
The doctors said he had one year left; he only lasted one month.
As I held on to his hand, he took one final breath and slipped from this world.
Leaving me; one woman, one broken heart, one child to show the world toâ¦all alone.
This is my story about the power of one...
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2kXeJPG
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XBFH4S3
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06XBFH4S3
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B06XBFH4S3
One Final Breath
Text Copyright Â© 2017 LK Collins
All Rights Reserved
Iâm not sure what it is about him, but for some reason since we met, heâs consumed my thoughts. He takes the pain awayâhe makes me feel saneâhe makes me feel like there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel Iâve been living in for so long.
EPISODE TWO: As a calculated assassin, Ripley thrives on always being in control. But when the woman he’s sworn to kill makes an offer he can’t refuse, his control is what he risks losing most.
They call me RIP.
I’m a killer. A murderer. A psychopath.
In the eyes of the righteous, I’m a monster, born of sin and depravity.
I want to protect her, but I’m not a good man.
I want to love her, but I no longer feel.
She gets under my skin, though, and has awakened something inside of me.
Something I’d kill for.
I’m not her savior—not even close. In fact, I’m worse than the hell she’s already suffered.
I’m her vengeance. Tit for tat, as they say.
And if she’s not careful, I’ll be her ruin.
For months, I’ve watched him.
I’ve fantasized him as my savior, my lover. My ticket out of the hell I’ve lived in for the last six years.
I never dreamed he’d be my nightmare.
Had I known what he really is, I’d have never gotten in the car that night, but life is full of cause and effect.
And sometimes the choice on offer isn’t a choice at all.
It’s the result of something already in motion, and we’re merely left to survive the ripple effect.
*This is an erotic suspense/erotic romance not recommended for readers under the age of 18 due to graphic violence and sex.
Keri Lake is a married mother of two living in Michigan. By day, she tries to make use of the degrees she's earned in science. By night, she writes dark contemporary, paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Though novels tend to be her focus, she also writes short stories and flash fiction on the many occasions distraction sucks her into the Land of Shiny Things.
For news, updates and sneak peeks at the sexy cover model candidates for her annual Cover Model Contest, subscribe to her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/HJPHH
Coming March 17th
I might be a brand new billionaire, but I'll be damned if I'm going to take charm lessons from former socialite "Sexy Lexi Kink-ade." She's getting under my skin, but now I'm stripping away her veneer to find the woman underneath.
I might be living hand to mouth these days, but Luke's mouth on my hand isn't helping. Redeeming his bad boy image is my job, but there's something seductive about a man who can fight in a tuxedo and scare away paparazzi...
Nikky Kaye is almost my real name. I’m a former Film professor who likes more than her movies to be black and white. Sadly, the world doesn’t work that way. I have worked with movie stars, Ivy League brainiacs, and the United Nations—all of which means that I’m familiar with ass-kissing, power struggles, greed and faking it. In my spare time I parent 5 year-old twin boys, serve on the board of an independent cinema, and run a medical consulting company.
Check out the Teespring Campaign! www.teespring.com/GetAGrip
ENTER THE GIVEAWAY on Kennedy's Page! www.facebook.com/KennedyRyanAuthor"The story reads like a movie . . powerful and intoxicating ... and sinfully sexy. GRIP has everything—dynamic characters, soulful plot, and a lesson at the end that will change the way you look at life. One of my favorite reads this year. Maybe ever. 5 massive, gripping stars from me!" -- Adriana Lock, USA Today Bestselling Author
EXCERPT:Grip leans into me, pushing back my hair and rolling his still-icy beer bottle over my neck. I swallow, but don’t dare look at him, hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t. “When you grow up on the streets, you don’t just develop a sixth sense.” He captures a lock of my hair and tests it between his fingers. “You have six, seven, eight, nine of ’em, because those instincts could be the difference between death or life. My mom and Jade have so many senses they almost know what you’re thinking before you think it. And even though I’ve never told her, Jade only had to be in the room with us for a hot minute to know I want you.” I clench my eyes closed and pull in a stuttering breath, trapping my bottom lip between my teeth. “Don’t do this, Grip.” “Jade’s right,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken, hadn’t asked him to stop. “My mom would flip if I brought a white girl home. If I brought you home. Maybe it is bigoted and ancient, but that’s just her. You know better than most that we don’t get to choose our family, but we still gotta love them.” I don’t respond to that. He knows how contentious things have been between my brother and my parents. Beyond the headlines everyone else has seen, he knows how hard I’ve worked to reconcile them. I moved to LA to help Rhyson with his career, yes, but also to bridge the country-wide chasm between the two factions of my family. “Like you, I’d do anything for my family.” He comes in an inch closer, caressing under my chin and tilting it up with his index finger. “But if you’d ever give me a shot, I wouldn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. I’d take you home to my mama.” I’m a little too high and a lot too horny for this conversation, for the stone-hard thigh pressing against me, for the heat coming off his body and smothering my resistance. I try to sit up, hoping it will clear my head so I can make my escape, but his hand presses gently into my chest, just above the swell of my breasts, compelling me back into the cushion. His lips hover over mine, and I will him to kiss me because I’ll make the first move if he doesn’t. After years of not moving, I have no idea how I’ll explain that once the smoke clears. Sometimes at night after the chaos dies, I think about our first kiss at the top of a Ferris wheel. Just like then, his lips start soft, brushing mine like wings in sweet sweeps, coaxing me open and delving into me. Sampling me, he groans into my mouth and chases my tongue. The rough palm of his hand cups my face, angling me so he can dive deeper. He doesn’t come up for air, but keeps kissing me so deeply I can’t breathe. He tastes so good, I’ll choose him over air as long as I can. Why is it never like this with anyone else? I want it to be so bad, but it never is. He releases my lips to scatter kisses down my neck. My back arches, and my nipples go tight. He knows that’s my spot. After all this time, he still knows. My neck is so incredibly sensitive, a gateway to the rest of my body. “You taste exactly the same.” His words come on a labored breath in my ear. “Do you know how long it’s been since I kissed you?” Eight years. “Eight years.” He shakes his head, eyes riveting mine in light lent by candles and the moon. “And you taste exactly the same.”
Check out the playlist on iTunes: http://apple.co/2lWI9ur Check out the playlist on Spotify: http://bit.ly/2lWrHdS
JOIN THE SPOILER ROOM AFTER YOU FINISH! http://bit.ly/2m8xEqf
Resisting an irresistible force wears you down and turns you out. I know. I’ve been doing it for years. I may not have a musical gift of my own, but I’ve got a nose for talent and an eye for the extraordinary. And Marlon James – Grip to his fans – is nothing short of extraordinary. Years ago, we strung together a few magical nights, but I keep those memories in a locked drawer and I’ve thrown away the key. All that’s left is friendship and work. He’s on the verge of unimaginable fame, all his dreams poised to come true. I manage his career, but I can’t seem to manage my heart. It’s wild, reckless, disobedient. And it remembers all the things I want to forget.
GRAB IT NOW FOR FREE!"Ryan continues her streak of amazingly accessible and authentic romantic fiction. Grip is a bold and unapologetic look at interracial romance and does not shy away from any of the ideals and prejudices that most of us are too polite to acknowledge - head on- amidst one of the sexiest, and most provocative true love romances Ryan has penned to date. Break out the fans folks, Grip is aptly titled and sure to make you need a grip! -- Sheena, Smexy Books
In 8 years, Marlon James will be one of the brightest rising stars in the music industry. Bristol Gray will be his tough, no-nonsense manager. But when they first meet, she’s a college student finding her way in the world, and he’s an artist determined to make his way in it. From completely different worlds, all the things that should separate them only draw them closer. It’s a beautiful beginning, but where will the story end?
FLOW is the prequel chronicling the week of magical days and nights
that will haunt Grip & Bristol for years to come.
GRIP is the full-length conclusion of their story available NOW here: http://kennedyryanwrites.com/grip/
About the Author:Kennedy loves to write about herself in third person. She loves Diet Coke…though she’s always trying to quit. She adores her husband…who she’ll never quit. She loves her son, who is the most special boy on the planet. And she’s devoted to supporting and serving families living with Autism. And she writes love stories! For updates, new releases, giveaways and other adventures, subscribe to her newsletter: https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/j9u8i3
Book #2 in The Game Series
By LP Lovell & Stevie J Cole
Down the rabbit hole I fall. I had expectations, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I'm confused and lost in this game they're playing. Preston and Tobias. I want them. I crave them, and I shouldn't, because I am nothing more than a rich man's toy.
No safe words.
Are you game?
CATCH UP ON BOOK #1
Lauren Lovell is an indie author from England.
She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and apologise for afterwards.
Lauren is a self-confessed shameless pervert, who may be suffering from slight peen envy.
LP loves to hear from readers so please get in touch.
STEVIE J COLE
Stevie J. Cole lives deep in the woods of Alabama with her husband and two precious daughters. She studied Epidemiology concentrating on cancer research but has always had a passion for writing. Some of her stories will strip you bare, some will give you nightmares, but the one thing she can promise is that she will always give you stories that make you feel.
Raw. Gritty. Love.
Because sometimes characters need to be flawed.
P.S. Stevie's greatest fear is the impending zombie apocalypse. Think about it: swarming armies of decaying, oozing corpses stumbling around with clicking teeth, trying to eat your face. Nothing about that is good. NOTHING!
COMING SOON... THREE PLAYERS
Series: Smirnov Bratva #3
Author: TL Smith
Genre: Mafia Romance
Release Date: March 11
She was promised to me.
I was promised to her.
She was the daughter of a drug lord,
I was the cousin of one.
Together we could have been beautiful.
Oh, so beautiful.
But beautiful doesn’t factor into my life.
That was my life.
She’d had her taste of it.
But was she really ready for it?
Because I lived in hell, and my wife would soon be Satan’s bitch.
She wouldn’t be prepared.
She could never be.
ONLY 99¢ FOR A LIMITED TIME
T.L Smith Lover of chocolate, books, but mostly words.
T.L Smith loves to travel, loves to shop for books, sometimes shoes ?
Don’t be shy about contacting T.L Smith, she doesn’t bite, hard!
Coming March 20th
They caught me. Naked, shivering and dripping after a spontaneous swim in the forest. Two rugged men whose hard gazes captivated and scared me all at once.
They warned me. Told me I was on private property and I needed to obey the law…or I would be punished.
The idea of them both punishing me, pleasuring me, kept tormenting me. I couldn't want them. I shouldn't. But I did.
I didn't mean to trespass again. I thought I could retreat without notice. But they're coming for me.
To show me the pleasure in pain. To show me just how right forbidden can feel. And to love me twice as hard as I ever fantasized.
I run up the track. My thighs scream—but I can’t stop yet. Pain blazes from my blistered heels. The ground levels out. My sneakers slide on dirt.
The world disappears, dropping out only yards from where I’m stopped.
I go to my knees, gasping. The urge to vomit rises hard in my throat, yet the sight ahead pierces me almost as sharply as the burning in my lungs. The view from the peak of Hunter Mountain is everything I’ve been led to believe. I press my palms to the earth. Oh god, the air is good.
So damned good.
Fragrant and so clean I’ve only experienced its pale imitation from a bottle. Forest scent. Almost makes this worth it. Almost. I fill my lungs, and my racing heart slows a fraction. I drop onto my heels. Green rolling hills and the kind of quiet I’ve only imagined stretch out before me.
I shut my eyes. In my thirty-one years I’ve never experienced a moment of quiet like this. Where the loudest thing competing for my attention is the sound of me—my breath.
My galloping pulse.
There’s always been a background noise so ever present I never noticed it until this absence. Traffic. Street. People. The whine of electronics a constant hum.
Pity there’s not a moment of peace to be found.
Not now. Not like this. Not on my own.
Why’d he send me here?
Flapping jerks me out of my thoughts. I look up. Broad, dark wings beat overhead.
Holy crap. Is that an actual eagle? The huge bird soars over the ledge to hover above the ravine.
On Hunter Mountain. I drag my backpack off my shoulders, and open it up, fingers slipping into the inside pocket where the letter waits.
I roll onto my backside, and then peel back the seal from one side of the envelope to the other, glue stretching like cheese for a moment before snapping. My thumb pauses in the fold of the paper. I unfold the note a fraction at a time.
Congratulations, Baby, you made it.
Aren’t you glad you did?
Enjoy the view for half an hour. Set your timer, you impatient little thing. Then take the path to left, there’s something there I want you to see.
I scrunch the paper into a ball, and it’s only the abomination of littering in a place like this, that stops me from hurling it in the direction of the eagle.
I’ve come all this way, suffered through so much, for a hike?
Why’d he even bother? I’m not sure if this is him trying to hang on—or refusing to completely let go.
Neither answer is one I’m prepared to dwell on. So I gather together the remnants of my hopefulness and obey my husband, setting my timer exactly as he’s instructed. Then drink from my water bottle and eat an apple to pass time, because he’s right—I’m a very impatient thing.
The beep pings from my phone. With the nonexistent reception here, an alarm is about all the phone’s good for.
I tuck the phone away, slip the backpack on and stand. My legs give a jellied wobble, leaving me with a feeling of walking on bendy stilts. I circle the top of the mountain, then find a track on the left, the one he must’ve meant.
Do Not Enter, the sign reads.
Of course it does. I sigh and take the path, adjusting the straps of the bag and wondering what fresh torture he has in store for me.
One small mercy, walking down is a damn sight easier than running up.
I descend into the trees and the silence bleeds into a more organic quiet, where birds rustle, things move, and then…water rushes.
I pick up pace. Tired or not, I jog down the path toward the sound, then burst into a clearing.
The scent of water hits me.
I stare at the stream plunging over a hanging ledge. My eyes widen as if I could somehow take it in more. A real waterfall.
A heady mix of awe and joy floods me.
Bounced from one L.A. foster home to the next, vacations and sightseeing hadn’t been any part of my upbringing. I’d worked my ass off to get into college, then worked it even harder in my good, safe, secure bank job to pay off student loans—until him.
Until Dean came along and every plan I ever had went up in flames.
But this? Waterfall. Had I mentioned on one of our lazy Sunday mornings after he’d fucked me into exhaustion, how I’d always longed to see one?
My chest squeezes. Maybe this means he forgives me…
I take off the backpack and toss it onto the ground. Then tear off my top, kick off my shoes and peel off my socks. The late spring air has my nipples puckering, but I unhook my bra and let it fall where I stand.
He hasn’t instructed this part, but I can just see him imagining it when he wrote the note. He’d picture me unable to resist skinny dipping in the wilderness.
Had it made him hard when he’d told me to come this way?
I undo the button at my waist and peel off my jeans. My underwear goes next. Then I walk buck naked toward the water.
Of course he’d been hard.
He’d have known I’d do just this. My thighs squeeze. Heat moves through me. I’m naked out in the open without Dean and he can’t do a thing to stop me.
I climb onto a rock.
A laugh springs from my lips. The sound echoes back at me, clear and crisp and startling. It’s been too long since I’ve heard that sound.
I leap into the water.
Freezing cold slams into me. I resurface with a gasp. Oh, shit. The water’s not just cold it’s so icy it has teeth. Still, I do the thing I’ve always, always wanted to do, and swim to the waterfall. Foam and bubbles, and the current seem to force me back. A tremor of danger moves through me. It could be risky to try to swim through the waterfall.
I take a breath and dive underwater. Pressure pounds my back then dissipates. I emerge on the other side, and look up. The water curtains me from the outside world.
Sadly, no cave, but I climb onto the bit of rock ledge and watch for the brief moment before cold and self-preservation force me down.
That’s the thing about fantasy, you never dream these parts—the threat of hypothermia or how a slimy rock feels on your bare ass.
I dive back through the waterfall, and swim toward where I’ve left my things. My skin goes numb. A blanket of goose bumps coats my limbs. I collect my carelessly scattered clothes. Dirt and mossy chunks of forest floor cling to my feet and work up my ankles. My teeth chatter. I bend to retrieve my underwear and jeans.
Sound crunches behind me.
I spin, clothes clutched in my hands. A man stands in front of me, maybe six feet away. My heart seizes.
He stares, gaze raking over me as though he’s never seen a woman. From the looks of him maybe he never has. His beard is rough, dark and speckled with silver, but it’s the jaw underneath—clenched tight as he takes me in, that has my own teeth biting together. He’s built like someone who spends his days felling trees or wrestling grizzlies.
My pulse mimics the sound of the waterfall, growing louder in my ears, until I don’t know which roar is which. That whole big body seems poised.
Set to pounce.
“I didn’t know anyone was here.” My voice emerges strangled and rusty.
He says nothing, but his gaze makes its way from where I clutch my things to my chest, then lands on mine.
His features set hungrily, tension thrumming tight through his expression in a way that makes me feel like a buffet that’s being presented at the very brink of starvation.
I can almost feel my heart beat against my forearms through the clothes I hold. Air moves in icy prickles over my naked thighs and between my legs. His attention moves there. To my uncovered cunt, which my bundle of clothes doesn’t hide.
His chest moves quickly, like he’s an animal under the heat of too much sun.
His fingers twitch at his sides. Big fingers. He has big fingers and big hands. Hands that would hold roughly. Fingers that would grab brutally.
And I can’t move. Can’t cover myself. Can’t conceal my most private area.
He takes a step—just one.
I jerk backward and stumble. My clothes tumble to the ground.
He looks at my chest. At my breasts, nipples puckered and strained. There’s a sensation rushing through me that reminds me of the brief period in my teens when I’d get high. A light-headedness that suspends me almost out of body.
He hisses, and comes for me.
A jolt of numbness plunges me back into frozen atrophy.
A blast rings out. Birds spring from trees.
After spending years imagining fictional adventures, Amber finally found a way to turn daydreaming into a productive habit. She now spends her time in a coffee-fuelled adrenaline haze, writing romance with a thriller edge.
She lives with her husband and children in semi-rural Australia, where if she peers outside at the right moment she might just see a kangaroo bounce by.
Amber is an award winning writer, Amazon Bestselling Author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild, and Writers Victoria.
Coming April 3rd
Pre-order exclusively via iBooks HERE
Going back to work was supposed to be a painless transition, but when my new boss turns out to be an arrogant, cocky jerk, he quickly turns my professional life into a world of torture. Okay, fine, calling him an asshat before knowing he was my boss wasn't my finest moment. Hating him should be easy. I just never counted on him being so gorgeous or charming when he's not annoying me.
I expected my new assistant to be professional and punctual, but all I'm getting are dirty looks and rude comments. I should fire the little hellion, but instead all I can think about is bending her over my desk and breaking every rule I've ever made for myself.
One look. One touch. One night. If we break the rules, our lives will never be the same again.
Good thing rules were made to be broken. And besides, it feels so good to Tempt the Boss.
When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...
Heavenly and Carlos have been best friends their whole lives. But it’s almost time for Heavenly’s birthday, which means she’ll be married off to a king.
Carlos has been King for a few years now and is being pressured to choose a bride. But he’s only ever had eyes for one princess, and he’s had to wait for her to turn twenty-one.
Heavenly doesn’t have any idea the plans Carlos has made for her, so when she offers to marry his brother, things don’t go so well. Girl, they don’t go well at all… Carlos isn’t having that. She gets a dose of alpha when Carlos lays down the law. But when she runs…how far will she actually get?
Warning: Do you really wonder if there’s a happily ever after? Because you know that’s kind of our thing, right? Look, he chases her, but it all works out.
Also it’s really hot. Get it!
Each book in The Princess series is standalone & about a different couple.
I flip through a magazine while lying on the floor of Carlos’s office. I’m bored as I lie on my stomach, swaying my feet in the air. I roll over when I come to a picture of Princess Star. I’m not shocked to see her in the magazine. I’d be more shocked if she wasn’t. The paparazzi are always trying to find out what she’s wearing and what she’s doing. Or better yet, who she’s doing. What kind of name is that? It makes me want to roll my eyes as much as her face does.
“You sure you don’t want to pick Star?” I tease, rolling fully to my side to look at Carlos. His eyes are trained on me, his face set in a hard stare. I don’t know why he looks so angry. He’s been grumpy for the past few months, which isn’t normal for him.
Okay, that’s not true. He’s usually pretty abrupt and a little cool with people. Except with me. I’m always the one who can get away with anything. I can show up at his office, flop down, and do whatever I want. Like I am now. It’s been that way since I was a little girl. But then he wasn’t always king. He’s only held the title for the past few years. I thought things might change. That he wouldn’t have time for me anymore. Instead I’ve only been granted further access into his family’s castle.
His eyes move to my legs, and it’s then I see my dress has ridden up. I sit up quickly and pull it down, my face turning red knowing he saw my underwear. I want to die. Of course when the man I’ve been in love with since I was fifteen sees my underwear, I’m wearing plain white ones with little hearts on them. Kill me now.
“I suggest you get rid of that dress, Heavenly. I’m sure whoever your intended might be wouldn’t like hearing his wife wore dresses and flashed what was his to other men.”
My mouth falls open at his words, then I narrow my eyes at him. He’s never talked to me like that before. I take the magazine and throw it at him. My aim is terrible, and it ends up knocking a vase off the table next to his desk. It causes it to crash to the floor, shattering into a hundred pieces.
I roll back over and grab another magazine, ignoring him. I’m not even sure what I’m mad about. Maybe it’s the casual talk about me being passed to whoever my husband might be. My coming of age is fast approaching, and I’ve been ignoring it, hoping that maybe no one will call on me. My heart already belongs to a man who’s been searching for his own wife since he became king. I’m not even a blip on his radar in that area. I’m like his cute little sister in his eyes, someone he has to protect and shelter.
He’s been my everything from the first moment we met. I came to stay with my grandma, whose home is right on the edge of Carlos’s land. I’d moved here after both my parents died and my brother had taken the crown. I love my brother, but he had no idea what to do with a grieving little sister. He had a country of his own to run.
I climbed the wall that surrounded the castle from the rest of the world, only to come up against two guards when I’d landed on the other side. Boredom and curiosity had gotten the best of me that day. They dragged me kicking and screaming back to the castle with the intent to have me arrested for trespassing. Which I was. But it was Carlos who’d saved me.
I’d broken away from the two guards and taken off, only to run right into Carlos. He was like a hard wall of muscle, and I would have fallen on my ass that day if he hadn’t grabbed ahold of me. He pulled me back to him and stopped me from falling.
I’d never seen someone go from angry to sweet in a flash. He ripped into the guards for having sent a girl running from them in fear. Since that day a guard has never touched me or stood in my way here. Most won’t even make eye contact with me. No place ever been off limits to me either. Something about that makes me feel special, but I have a feeling it’s something I’ll soon lose. I can’t imagine whoever Carlos chooses as a wife will allow me to still roam the castle and estate like I do now.
Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night I sneak over from my grandmother’s and climb into his bed, where he’ll hold me close until I fall asleep. I don’t think that will be happening anymore once he takes a queen. Especially since he asked me to stop the last time I did it. It cut deep. Deeper than I thought it would. Yeah, things are going to change, but I don’t want them to. I want to stay here forever. This feels like my home now—the only home I’ve known since I lost both my parents.
The room remains quiet as both of us know I’m not going to clean up the mess. I glance over at him, and his eyes are still on me. We stare at each other for a long moment.
“I’m sorry, Heavenly. You know I’m very protective of you.” I nod, understanding. He has always been that way with me, even when it comes to men or boys poking around me. “I don’t like the idea of men being able to see up your dress.” He leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Things have to change,” he mumbles, and I feel my stomach turn.
“I’m not going to be allowed here after you choose your wife,” I say, and I hear the defeat and sadness in my own voice. This wife thing has been hanging over my head for two years now. It’s bittersweet. Part of me loves the fact that he hasn’t picked one yet, and another part wants him to do it so I have to face the music.
“Why would you say such a thing?” He sits back up in his chair.
“I mean, I know I can come over, just not like now. You already won’t let me in your room.” My gaze drops back down to the magazine.
Carlos gets up, coming around his desk and picking up the magazine I threw. He looks at the page that’s open to the picture of Star. He rolls his eyes and tosses it into the fire that’s cracking quietly in the fireplace.
“You’re days away from coming of age,” he reminds me.
I know. I turn twenty-one soon. I’ve been dreading it, wondering who might be calling for my hand in marriage. I secretly hoped that my brother had forgotten all about me and I wouldn’t have to worry about that day. But I think that chance is slim to none.
“I know,” I mumble. “Maybe you should worry about your own little problem. You know, picking a wife? How many women have showed up here and you still haven’t picked one.”
His jaw clenches at my words. He hates when they come. That makes two of us. I want to say it out loud, but I keep it to myself. I always try to keep the anger out of my voice. I can’t let my jealousy show. That wouldn’t be good. Then I really wouldn’t be allowed over anymore.
“Heavenly. You will never not be allowed here. You’re a part of this family, and you know it.”
I want to tell him he’s wrong. If he were mine I sure as heck wouldn’t let him hang out with some girl in his office all day.
Then it hits me. I jump up and rush over to him. “Maybe I could marry your brother!”
I almost run into him I’m so excited at the idea. But he catches me and puts his hands on my shoulders. I’d never have to leave! I could still see Carlos and his mom every day! Carlos’s brother Romy is nice, but if the rumors in the magazines are true, he’s a little bit of a player. But I wouldn’t care. I’m sure his mom will be pushing him to get married soon, too. Maybe we could just be married in name. He could still do whatever he wanted, and I could stay here. Romy and I get along well. We often team up and give Carlos a hard time when he gets into one of his grumpy moods.
Carlos tightens his grip on my shoulders.
“You want to be with my brother?”
The look on his face changes to anger. I’ve seen this face on him many times over the years, but never has it been aimed at me. I don’t understand why he’s so mad. I know he’s protective of me in a brotherly way, but this seems excessive.
“He wouldn’t treat you as you deserve to be treated,” he half-growls. He brings his hand to my cheek and strokes it softly. The touch doesn’t match the anger in his words.
“Romy is sweet to me,” I say, trying to make him understand.
“He wouldn’t be loyal,” he throws back.
Loyalty is everything to him. I know Carlos would be faithful to his wife. He’s a man of great honor. That’s probably why I’ve never seen any magazine pictures of him out on a date. It’s also why he’d never think of being with me. I’m too young. Not only that but although I’m a princess, I’m a little brash and blurt things out in moments I shouldn’t. My parents kept me away from the social scene, then after they died I was out here living with my grandmother. She barely leaves the house. My only social interactions occur with him, when I come over here and hang out. I even completed my schooling at the castle with private teachers. It was easier to do it here. I practically live here, for the most part. If I wasn’t with Carlos, I was with his mother, helping her plan some charity event or dinner, ones I never went to. Carlos always said I was too young. I often wondered if he brought dates to those events. But at night, when he’d get home, I’d sneak over, faking I had a bad dream. When I crawled into his bed there were never any other women. Nor did his bed smell like one had been with him.
The doors to Carlos’s office open, and his mom Nina walks in. Carlos drops his hand from my cheek, but the other on my shoulder only digs in a little tighter. I shake him off, turning to greet the woman who has become like a mom to me over the past five years.
“Nina, I have the best idea! I should marry your son.”
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!
Title: Part of the List
Author: Xavier Neal | @XavierNeal87
Release Date: March 9th 2017
If you were dying, what would be on the list of moments that mattered most to you? That shaped your life? What would you choose to remember or choose to ignore even in the face of death? Who would you miss? What would you regret not doing? Who would you regret not loving? In the face of your own mortality or in the face of your lover's, what would be part of the list?
I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Bailey. He was barely fifteen and I was nothing more than the sappy thirteen year old obsessed with the older, bright eyed, dark brown haired boy with an accent that would make any country lover proud. It was right before church, and Bailey was in the same place he always was, the nursery. He loved to be around kids, but babies were his favorite. There was something about holding the very beginning of life, a clean slate, an unbiased soul that was exhilarating to him. Sometimes people forget that hatred isn't born. It's bred. It's instilled and re-instilled through words as well as actions. Unfortunately for us that simple truth has haunted us like an unsettled spirit seeking revenge on a world it was afraid had forgotten it.
I lean against the door frame as he cradles the infant to his broad, white t-shirt covered chest. He rocks her and hums his favorite hymn. I do my best to hide my giggles. Only Bailey can get away with singing Noelle in the middle of August.
Slowly, he turns his body to face mine. With a wide grin he locks eyes with me and states, âSomeday, you're gonna be holdinâ ours.â
A smile hits my lips. I love the slight twang heâs trying to hide.
âShe's gonna be beautiful just like you.â
Thick glasses. Brown hair instead of the favored blonde. Brown skin by nature, not golden sun kissed like everyone else I know. A little too full up top. Thighs that most girls would cry over because they touch. I wear t-shirts at the pool to hide those flaws. I mean, my teeth are straight and I have less zits than most girls my age, but my face is fatter. I donât wear makeup. Iâve never even had my eyebrows plucked. No part of me is worthy of being called beautiful. Not even a little.
âAnd she's gonna have your dimple, too.â
I want to argue that the hole in my cheek created when I smile isnât an enhancement, itâs an embarrassment, but Bailey doesnât wait for my response. He simply winks and returns to singing.
All of a sudden Mrs. Kathy places the infant she had been holding in one of the cribs and scolds âDon't go making promises in the Lord's house you don't plan to keep, Bailey Cooper.â
âOh, I plan to keep it, Mrs. Kathy...â He glances up to give me another smirk. âSee, I love Kenny. Always have. Always will.â
Xavier Neal lives in Texas where she spends her time getting lost in writing, reading, or fandoms she recently discovered. Whether she is enjoying books or movies, she continues finding inspiration at every turn to bring more exciting stories to life.
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