Now Available!

Now Available!

LoveWalksIn_Cover_NinaLindsey

 

Follow your heart to Bliss Cove. . .

 

Love Walks In, the first sweet and steamy standalone in the Bliss Cove series from Nina Lindsey is available now!

 

 

Synopsis

 

 

Bus ticket to hometown of Bliss Cove – $24.50

Purchase of old building and business license – $35,250

Twelve orphaned cats – free

Finally proving to her family that she can be successful – priceless.

 Shaking off her past mistakes and fickle reputation, Aria Prescott is determined to start a new life with her latest venture, the “Meow and Then Cat Café.” Though the café is in the town’s most rundown neighbourhood, Aria will let nothing stop her from success.

Then property developer Hunter Armstrong shocks the Mariposa Street shop owners with a buyout offer that threatens to destroy the old district. Aria refuses to let the ruthless businessman intimidate her into selling her beloved café, even if Hunter’s dark, glowering sexiness secretly makes her want to purr.

Hunter needs to close the deal and secure his promotion to CEO of Imperial Properties. He would be victorious in no time if it weren’t for a stubborn, beautiful cat rescuer who believes in things like healing crystals and forever homes.

Aria and Hunter are soon locked in a fiery, tense war over the fate of Mariposa Street. But when Hunter starts falling for this sexy town sweetheart, he discovers that winning the battle might mean losing his heart.

 

LWI_Teaser4

 

 

 

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

 

 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2lwiugq

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/LoveWalksIn

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Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2lIzobd

 

 

Discover the rest of the Bliss Cove Series!

 

Bliss Cove LWI - AN

 

 

And I Love Her

Releasing October 2019

 

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2kZwhfe

 

  

Love Me Tender

Releasing November 2019

 

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2n1xNOC

 

 

 

 

Excerpt

Good things came in large, thick envelopes. At least, that was what Aria Prescott had always believed. Wedding invitations, college acceptances, Christmas cards, love letters.

            But this?

            She sank onto a chair in her darkened café, crumpling the brown envelope in her fist. The formal letter was clipped to a stack of papers made heavier by the copious use of legalese—clauses, conditions, title. Financial terms.

            Dropping the letter, she looked through the brick-and-glass partition separating the lounge from the front room of the café. Evening light illuminated the painted Meow and Then sign on the window. A chalkboard menu hung on the wall behind the counter. Wooden shelves held cat toys and cat-themed merchandise.

            She’d created this. For the first time in her life, she’d gone the distance, gotten the job done, seen the plan through. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let anything change that now.

            Jumbo butted his fuzzy head against her arm.

            “Sorry, sweetie.” Stroking the tabby cat’s ears, Aria got to her feet. “Thirteen orders of chicken bites in gravy coming right up.”

            Cats of all sizes stirred from various lounging positions around the room. Tails swishing and ears perked, they padded over to the row of food and water dishes.

            Pushing the letter out of her mind, Aria retrieved cans of chicken from the storage cabinet and prepared dinner for her thirteen charges. A few of them meowed and slithered around her legs, while others sat waiting regally for their meal to be served.

            A one-eyed cat with patchy fur, a torn left ear, and a sharp-fanged tooth poking out of his mouth crouched under a table.

            “Come on, Fang.” Aria clicked her tongue at the old cat, who glared at her. “Yummy chicken.”

            She filled a separate dish and set it close to him. Only when she backed away did he edge forward to eat.

            After refilling the water dishes, she tied the full trash bag and headed out the back door to put it in the garbage bin. A thick layer of ocean fog and encroaching rainclouds covered the sky, blocking the sunset. Though the April weather had been temperate, evenings were cool in the coastal California town of Bliss Cove.

            It was Aria’s favourite time of year—warm days bursting with colour and new life followed by chilly nights of sweatshirts and bonfires. But this spring was more important than all previous ones because before summer arrived, Aria’s mother and two older sisters would see that she could not only follow through with a plan but make it a success. She’d finally prove that she was stronger and smarter than anyone—herself included—had believed.

            The backdoor of the café creaked. A large calico peered at her from the crack in the open door, which she never forgot to close.

            Until now. Not the greatest start to smarter.

            “Hey, boy.” Keeping her voice soft, she locked her gaze to his. “Go back inside. I’ll…Porkchop!”

            Faster than a blink, the cat shot into the alley and ran.

            “Porkchop!” Aria slammed the door shut so the other cats wouldn’t escape. She hurried around to the front of the café just as his swishing tail disappeared around the corner. “Who knew you could move so fast? Porkchop!”

            Soon it would be dark and rainy. Breaking into a run, Aria followed the cat away from Mariposa Street. The rundown historic district was at least three miles from the centre of downtown. Shops and restaurants lined the streets converging toward the popular and busy Starfish Avenue.

            Annoyance flickered through her. In the two weeks she’d had Porkchop, he’d proven to be both wily and smug. He’d chewed rolls of paper towels, shoved other cats off the windowsill, and Aria swore he’d deliberately broken one of the cat figurines in the lounge.

            There! A black-and-orange furball was just visible under a parked pick-up truck. She crept forward and extended her hand.

            “Come on, Porkie Pie,” she crooned. “Come back home and I’ll give you some nice tuna fish…Porkchop!”

            He darted away. Several passers-by paused to try and catch him. The overweight cat continued to move surprisingly fast, evading every grasp.

            Aria’s lungs started to burn. Skidding in her flat, strappy sandals, she caught sight of him crossing the street to the ramshackle Outside Inn. The old Queen Anne building sprawled over an expanse of tree-dotted lawn with a trail leading to Pelican Beach.

            Heavy raindrops started to fall. Aria hurried up the pathway leading to the wrap-around porch. Thick shrubs and overgrown weeds lined the foundation of the inn underneath the multiple lighted windows. Porkchop shot behind a dense boxwood.

            “You little…” She pushed through the shrubs, cursing as her flowy cotton skirt caught on a wet branch and tore. “You’re lucky I took you on, you ungrateful little mouse catcher. If it weren’t for me, you’d be…Porkchop!”

            Tail swishing, he bounded to the corner of the inn. If he took off toward the beach trail…she’d never find him on the dark shoreline. But under the awning, he was protected from the rain. Maybe he’d opt for comfort over risk and adventure.

            Comfort is a far better choice, my feline friend. Trust me on that.

            The cat stopped. His whiskers twitched. His yellow eyes gleamed. Aria gritted her teeth.

            “You come here right now.” She clapped her hands sharply and raised her voice. “I work very hard to give you and your fellow feline brethren a nice place to live, and I do not appreciate being forced to race through the—”

            A window slammed open right above her. “What the hell is going on out here?”

            The deep male voice boomed like thunder. Aria’s heart jumped into her throat. Forcing an apologetic smile onto her lips, she straightened and looked up. Right into the scowling face of a man whose glare burned right into her.

            She opened and closed her mouth. No words came out. Her heart raced.

            “Well?” His black eyebrows snapped together over his intense dark eyes. He was still holding the window sash up, and the lifted position of his arms stretched his white dress shirt over impressively bulging biceps.

            “What are you doing out here?” he barked.

            “I….there’s a cat.” Trying to gather her scattered wits, she ran shaking hands over her dress. “Uh, I was just—”

            “You were annoying the crap out of me is what you were just doing.”

            Irritation stiffened Aria’s spine.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to annoy you.” She indicated Porkchop, who was still sitting at the corner of the inn, staring at the man as if he, too, were transfixed by his sheer potency. “I’m trying to save my cat.”

            His mouth twisted sardonically. “Your cat.”

            “My felis catus, if you want the Latin term.”

            He expelled an impatient breath, his scowl deepening. Letting go of the window sash, he raked a hand through his dishevelled dark hair. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing tanned forearms corded with muscle.

            Good God. Who was he, this man whose glower ratcheted up his sexiness by about a thousand degrees?

            And what was she doing fixating on him when she still had to catch Porkchop? The rain was coming down harder.

            “I apologize.” She drew her shoulders back and met his smouldering black eyes. “My cat escaped and made his way here, for some reason. I’m trying to catch him.”
He shot a glare at the animal, who was still staring and twitching his tail. “Given his size, it doesn’t look as if catching him should be that hard.”

            Aria frowned, stung by the dig about Porkchop’s weight. “I’ll thank you not to insult my cat.”
“You named him Porkchop.”

            “I didn’t name him. And he is on a metabolic feline weight management program.”

            “Maybe that’s why he ran away.”

            “I know this doesn’t look plausible, but he’s led me on a wild goose chase…or maybe I should say a wild cat chase…” She chuckled at the joke. Glowering Stranger did not. “Anyway, my point is that despite his girth, Porkchop can run pretty darned fast.”

            He turned his scowl on to her. An oddly pleasurable shiver raced down her spine, which made no sense. Before she could move, or even think, he hefted himself over the window sill and landed onto the ground in front of her.

            Aria’s breath stopped. Like, stopped, right in the middle of her chest.

            In addition to being dangerously sexy, he was also big—well over six feet with wide shoulders and a broad chest that was no doubt a landscape of hard muscles. With him standing right in front of her, she practically felt the power and energy coiling through every millimetre of his body. The garden lights cast shadows over his strong features, emphasizing the cut-glass lines of his jaw and cheekbones, his thick-lashed eyes, and a beautifully shaped mouth that looked as if it were made to do dirty things to a woman.

            Parting her lips, Aria forced air into her lungs before she started getting dizzy.

            “If you’ll step aside, I’ll get my cat.” She managed to sound both haughty and cool, even though her blood was hot and her heart pounding.

            “Been real successful at that so far, haven’t you?” Arching an eyebrow, he turned toward Porkchop.

            After admiring the fact that his back was as appealing as his front, Aria edged backward. If he approached the cat from this side, and she darted around behind Porkchop, they might be able to box him in.

            He took a few steps toward the cat. Porkchop blinked at him. Glowering Stranger made a deep, rumbling noise that was obviously meant to soothe the animal, but that also had the strangest effect on Aria—like a hot wave rolling over her skin and settling right into her core.

            Suppressing the ridiculous sensation, she prepared to move around and surround the cat as soon as the man got close enough.

            “Good boy.” Glowering Stranger bent and picked Porkchop up as if the cat were…well, a docile, pick-up-able creature who hadn’t just fled through the streets of Bliss Cove like an escaped felon.

            Aria gaped. Porkchop just…curled into the man’s arms as if he didn’t have the slightest interest in getting away. In fact, the little traitor even nuzzled his furry head against Glowering Stranger’s chest.

            Aria had the fleeting thought that she’d kind of like to do the same thing.

 

 

About Nina

 

NinaLindsey-pic

Nina Lindsey writes romances filled with heart, heat, and happy endings. She is delighted to introduce readers to Bliss Cove, California, a coastal town with an abundance of warm cookies, ocean breezes, and the ever-present possibility of love.

Nina loves all things spicy and sweet, with chilli chocolates being at the top of the list. She is also a fan of glossy magazines, pop culture, Gilmore Girls, energy bites, Orangetheory, and the sound of silence.

She lives in Wisconsin with her meteorologist husband (yes, she asks him daily, “What’s the weather forecast?”), their two children, a hyperactive dog, and a snail named Pipsqueak.

 

 

Connect with Nina

 

Website: www.ninalindsey.com

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2mvHzs5

Instagram: http://bit.ly/2kZyeZ6

 

 

Now Available!

Now Available!

PerfectlyAdequate-ebookFINAL

 

 

 

“Another brilliantly written winner. Do yourself a favour and pick this one up, you will not regret it.” —Kate Stewart, USA Today bestselling author

 

 

Perfectly Adequate, an all-new must-read romantic comedy from Jewel E. Ann, is available now!

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

Dr Elijah Hawkins needs … something.

After his wife jumps headfirst into a midlife crisis, he’s left with his young son, Roman, and a lot of unanswered questions.

That something turns out to be a someone—Dorothy Mayhem, nursing student, patient transporter, reckless driver, and emu owner.

Dorothy studies humans, the neurotypical kind, through books and television. Then she emulates their behavioural patterns to fit in with her peers.

But nothing can prepare her for Dr Elijah Hawkins.

Single dad.

Brilliant pediatric oncologist.

And the sexiest doctor at the hospital.

When his failed attempts at asking her out turn into a string of playdates with his son, Dorothy finds herself unexpectedly enamoured with the boy and his father.

And that’s a problem, a huge one because Elijah’s ex-wife is a famous plastic surgeon—and Dorothy’s idol.

 

PA - AN

 

 

Perfectly Adequate is a beautiful, hilarious, and heartfelt journey along the “human” spectrum.

 

 

 

 

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

 

 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2o6sJZF

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Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2OWq81s

 

 

Excerpt

 “You can call me Eli.”

She swallows hard. “I don’t actually think I can.”

“Why not?” I force my gaze away from her mouth.

The second our eyes meet, she averts her attention to her feet. “Because you’re half of the Hathaway-Hawkins duo.”

This is a new one to me. “I’m divorced.”

“I know. I …” She makes an attempt to look at me, but her attention shifts to my temple then maybe my ear. “I mean you’re a brilliant doctor, and Dr. Hathaway is too—so brilliant. God, she’s just phenomenal. Like there are no words. But still … you change the lives of young children. You save them. You’re what every young person entering the medical field can only dream of becoming. You’ve earned the title. I can’t call you by your name. It’s too personal. I don’t know … almost intimate.”

She has Julie on a really high pedestal. Me? Down a few pegs. Sounds about right for my life at the moment. It’s not that Julie doesn’t deserve to be on the pedestal. No matter how much I hate her, I still love her. And her skills as a pediatric plastic surgeon are unmatched. She deserves Dorothy’s admiration.

But I don’t want to talk about medicine, accolades, and saving lives. I know … I know … how terrible of me. Sorry, but I need something for myself. Something personal and maybe a little selfish.

Definitely intimate.

“I don’t need a babysitter for Roman.”

She jerks her head back, giving me her full attention, eyes squinted, gaze locked to mine. “What?”

I trap my top lip between my teeth, drowning in coconuts as my heart races, sending ample blood to all regions of my body. God … I just want—need—to kiss her.

“Oh jeez …” She shakes her head, closing her eyes for a breath. “You invited me to dinner to … flirt.” Her eyes open to their widest point.

A tiny laugh escapes me. I can’t help it. Everything about this woman feels like a rebirth. “I invited you to dinner because Roman really likes you. And I just can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done for him. You’re so generous.”

Gah! I suck at this!

What is my problem? Yes. The answer is yes! Yes, Dorothy, I invited you over to flirt, maybe even kiss. And other things …

“Oh.” She takes a step backwards, stumbling a bit as the front door catches her, and more embarrassment tints her cheeks. “Well, now I feel stupid. Yes, of course, you invited me here because Roman likes me. Duh. Now I just look like an idiot for assuming you wanted to flirt with me. And really, no need to thank me. My generosity is selfish. It makes me feel good to do nice things. That’s all. And really, you’ve bought me coffee and made me dinner again. It’s like I should be thanking you again. But that’s probably weird. So … I’ll just go now.”

Really, really weird shit goes through my mind as she fidgets. Dr Hawkins is nowhere to be found. Neither is Roman’s dad. Raging-puberty-hormones Eli Hawkins invades my head—both of them really. And I just want to kiss Dorothy. That’s the PG version of my thoughts. Most of them are R-rated. Worse than the R-rating. All I can think about are the ways Dorothy and I can be generous with each other, leading to never-ending thank-you’s that don’t involve stationary, replacement scrubs, superhero capes, pasta dinners, lunch boxes … or clothing.

 “Should we call it even? No more thank-you’s,” I suggest.

“Okay.” She lifts her gaze, eyes going a little cross-eyed like her focus is centred on the bridge of my nose.

“Okay.” I release a slow breath, but it does very little to relax all of my body. “Can I ask your age?” I’m not sure why I’ve been so chicken about asking her age. I think it worries me that she’s too young, and I’ll feel like a dirty old man having really inappropriate thoughts about her.

“I’m thirty. Why?”

“You just look young.”

“I wear massive amounts of sunscreen.”

I nod slowly.

Just kiss her, you big chicken!

What if she doesn’t want to be kissed by me? Or flirt with me? I internally laugh at the memory of her comment and at myself for being just as awkward. Why does something so simple have to be so complicated?

“I have a forty-five-minute drive home.”

And school the next day. Where is my head?

Oh, that’s right …

“Of course. I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

“Okay.” She smiles.

I love her okay’s. They feel like more than the average okay.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Have you not closed all of your rings?” She holds up her wrist, signalling to her watch.

I chuckle. “All rings were closed hours ago.”

“We could track each other. Share our rings. Did you know that?”

Rings. Kisses. Trips to the on-call room for sex.

For the love of God … get your shit together, Elijah!

“Never mind. That’s weird.” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at herself just before opening the door and scurrying ten steps ahead of me. Her pace gains momentum with the hill of my driveway.

My long strides catch up to her at the bottom of it. She looks both ways and bolts across the street to her car, clicks the locks, and opens her door.

“Goodnight!”

“Dorothy Mayhem … you’re killing me.”

She turns just before ducking into the driver’s seat.

“What do you mean?”

Resting my hands on my hips, I drop my chin in defeat and stare at my untied gray canvas shoes. “What if I did ask you to dinner tonight to … flirt?” I glance up, digging my teeth into my bottom lip on a slight cringe.

Her body remains stoic as her eyes shift from side to side like she’s been caught on a hidden camera. “Well … then I wore the wrong outfit.” She refuses to look me in the eye.

“I think you look amazing.”

“Yes. But this is a playdate outfit. Maybe even one I’d wear to apply for a babysitter position. It’s fun but wholesome. Practical and safe.”

I just want to spend one day in her head. Everything about her fascinates the hell out of me. The curiosity gives me such a high.

“Tell me about your flirting outfit.”

“Well …” She clears her throat, keeping her focus on the big hill leading out of my development. And of course … her cheeks are perfectly flushed as she talks to the wind. “Since Romeo was involved, I would have chosen my red dress with white stripes. It hits just below my knees, but it’s strapless. And I would have worn my blue cardigan with it and matching blue wedge sandals with straps that tie around my ankles. Flirty … but appropriate for young eyes.”

“And if Roman wouldn’t have been here tonight?”  I stare at the side of her head, wondering if she’ll look at me again before driving home.

She narrows her eyes. “I would have taken off the cardigan after you invited me into your house.”

The picture she paints in my head does all kinds of wicked things to me. Why imagining her in a striped strapless dress has such a physical effect on me is a mystery. It’s not like she suggested showing up wearing nothing but high heels and a trench coat. Dorothy Mayhem possesses her own brand of seduction, and I’m completely entangled in every part of it.

“And in this scenario, would you have kissed me after I walked you to your car?”

She turns completely red. I feel certain even her toes hidden in those blue shoes have to be red. “You’re making fun of me.”Her comment knocks me back a good ten steps, even if my body remains right next to her. Why would she say that?

 

 

 

About Jewel

 

Jewel is a free-spirited romance junkie with a quirky sense of humour.

With 10 years of flossing lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.

After her best friend of nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.

When she’s not donning her cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.

 

 

 

Connect with Jewel

 

 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorjeweleann/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JewelE_Ann

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Stay up to date with Jewel by joining her mailing list:

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http://www.jeweleann.com

Now Available!

Now Available!

Invicible-ebook

 

People say a broken heart can kill, but it’s really the secrets that take you down.

~Alexander Rockingham II

 

Invincible, an all-new powerful and emotional ménage love story, featuring a sexy and dominant silver fox from Elizabeth SaFleur, is available now!

Invincible - AN 2

 

Synopsis

 

Alexander Rockingham keeps the secrets of Washington DC’s most elite players, but none are as devastating as his own. Forty years ago, the Wynters ripped away from everyone he’d loved. When the family’s matriarch dies, he completes a promise to walk through the gates of their Connecticut estate as the owner, and with a sledgehammer in hand, erase the name of Wynter. He also gives his beloved Charles—in the family graveyard—the goodbye he’d been denied decades earlier.

He didn’t expect to find Rebecca, the third in their lovers’ trio, standing there. He didn’t expect the man who is helping him settle the Wynter estate to offer himself to him and Rebecca as a stopgap to recapture a happier time. He didn’t expect to fall in love again—with both of them.

But sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes ghosts from the past are just too strong to counter even for three people united in beating them.

Invincible is a polyamory/menage (M/F/M and M/M/F) romance stand-alone Elite Doms of Washington novel.

 

Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2NR2KQK

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2ZiQmv0

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Excerpt:

Eric stilled in the archway. Alexander, tie skewed and shirt open, held the back of a woman’s head in a greedy hold, his long fingers threaded through wild red hair. Who was the woman? Her skin was so pale against Alexander’s. He kissed her as if punishing her with his mouth, oblivious to the fact Eric had breached their personal space.

He should turn away. Hell, he shouldn’t be here. He had taken his life in his hands crossing that creek and sloshing up and over the bridge to bring Alexander dinner—the meal he’d forgotten to join Eric for. He’d chalked it up to the man still grieving. Clearly not.

Alexander’s fingers curled tighter into all those red strands as he deepened his kiss. Eric’s mouth watered, and the front of his pants shrank five sizes. One second of observing Alexander’s dominance and all Eric’s earlier efforts to drain his cock of need were for nothing as his erection strained against his zipper.

He swallowed, and shifted his weight. His soggy shoes squeaked against the marble, sending off an echo that could wake the dead. Alexander’s face broke contact with the woman and turned to him.

Eric glanced away. His options were limited. Step back out in the storm. Go to another room and wait out …

“Eric.”

Damn. Caught being a voyeur. He turned to face the man and prayed like hell he wasn’t blushing. The woman had shrunk behind him.

He lifted the bag. “I brought you dinner.” Lame, but true.

“Ah.” Alexander scrubbed his salt and pepper five o’clock shadow. “Time got away from me.”

Eric stepped closer and held out the bag. “I’ll leave it and head back out.”

“No, come in.” Alexander crooked his finger. “You’re soaked. This is Rebecca Beaumont.”

She stepped out from behind him, her cheeks aflame. His heart hitched a little at the vulnerability in her red-rimmed eyes. She’d been crying.

“Eric Morrison.” He offered a handshake. “I’d forgotten how vicious New England storms could be.”

Her hand disappeared into his palm. “Alexander and I are old friends.”

I can tell.

“Eric is helping me settle the estate.” Alexander gave him a half a smile on that word, and Eric’s belly gave a lurch worthy of a teenager with a bad case of puppy love.

“I don’t mean to intrude … ” Or stare.  In this light, Rebecca’s high cheekbones and pale grey eyes cast an otherworldly vibe. His first thought was that she’d stepped off a film set from Lord of the Rings, like—what was the name of that elf colony? River-something.He was snapped back to reality from the crinkle of the food bag as Alexander took it from him.

“Not at all.” Alexander peered into the bag. “Eggplant Parmesan from the Grafton. My favourite.”

“Still?” Her tentative smile lit up her face. “Is it as good as Bertrands?”

“Better.” Alexander winked, and Eric’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. The Alexander Rockingham he knew didn’t do anything as frivolous as wink.

Eric cleared his throat. “If you’re planning on going out, you should know the bridge is almost washed out.” What else would he contribute to this tête-à-têtehe’d witnessed—or rather, had barged in on.

Alexander frowned. “Tell me you didn’t take any chances.”

“No big deal.” He shrugged. “I survived Hurricane Katrina. A little Nor’easter won’t be a problem.”

“Well, that’s it. You’re staying. In fact, we all are.”

About Elizabeth

Name_BlkIso

 

Award-winning author of contemporary romance, Elizabeth SaFleur promises all the “feels” in her emotional, plot-rich stories.

Experience luxurious, glamorous escapes in her Elite Doms of Washington series

Fall in love with her alpha men who always leave a woman satisfied.  Meet the heroines who take charge in the Justice Series, her Femme Domme romance books

Join her burlesque & gangster book world in the Shakedown series debuting in 2019.

Many of her books were inspired by her thirty years as a PR practitioner in and around Washington, DC. She writes tweets and posts under a pseudonym since her business clients might be (WOULD be) shocked at her new career choice.

Connect with Elizabeth

 

Instagram: http://bit.ly/2Fmi709

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2Rnq6AA

Join her reader group, Elizabeth’s Playroom on Facebook:

 http://bit.ly/2Fobpqu

Twitter: http://bit.ly/2QJWEzs

Pinterest: http://bit.ly/2SPnY13

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Amazon: https://amzn.to/2RH5R0c

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http://www.elizabethsafleur.com/

Now Available!

Now Available!

 

12_13_Handle With Care (1) 6.00.05 PM

 

“Lincoln and Wren had me flipping through the pages frantically, begging for more. Their chemistry was explosive, their love story both hilarious and tender.”- L.J. Shen, USA Today bestselling author

 

Handle With Care, an all-new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is available now!

 

HWC - AN

 

Synopsis

 

HE WANTS TO LOSE CONTROL.

Between his parents’ messed up marriage and his narcissistic younger brother, Lincoln Moorehead has spent the majority of his life avoiding his family. After the death of his father, Lincoln finds himself in the middle of the drama. To top it all off, he’s been named CEO of Moorehead Media, much to his brother’s chagrin. But Lincoln’s bad attitude softens when he meets the no-nonsense, gorgeous woman who has been given the task of transforming him from the gruff, wilderness guy to a suave businessman

SHE’S TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER.

Wren Sterling has been working double-time to keep the indiscretions at Moorehead Media at bay, so when she’s presented with a new contract, with new responsibilities and additional incentives, she agrees. Working with the reclusive oldest son of a ridiculously entitled family is worth the hassle if it means she’s that much closer to pursuing her own dreams. What Wren doesn’t expect is to find herself attracted to him, or for it to be mutual. And she certainly doesn’t expect to fall for Lincoln. But when a shocking new Moorehead scandal comes to light, she’s forced to choose between her own family and the broody, cynical CEO.

HWC - Teaser 3 AN

 

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Excerpt:

 

“You have a suit fitting tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning? I have lots of suits; I’ll make one of those work.”

“Are they like the ones you wore to the funeral?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, they may have fit you five years ago, but they certainly don’t fit you now. I’ll text you the details and add them to your personal calendar.”

“You can’t do that without my cell number.” His smugness would be grating if I wasn’t two steps ahead of him.

I flash a fake smile. “I already have all of your personal details, Lincoln. Right down to your shoe size. And you can’t be late like you were this morning, so it might be a good idea to avoid the scotch tonight so you’re less bear and more human. You’ll need to use these things called manners. I can email you a refresher on what those are, should you need it.”

“Sarcasm is a weapon of the weak.”

My ears are on fire as he heads for the door. Jerk. I was being witty, not sarcastic. “Thanks so much for offering to help clean up the mess you made.” I turn to address the crinkled papers scattered on the floor.

It’s common courtesy to offer assistance if you’re the one who made the damn mess. Even Armstrong, who is the most epic of douches, has some manners. Usually, he’ll try to look up a skirt or down a shirt while he’s being polite, but it’s better than this.

I turn to retrieve the papers when two things happen, a power surge ramps up the box fans—it happens at least twice a day, and at the same time, Lincoln pulls the door open again. The simultaneous actions create a vortex of air inside my office, and my skirt flutters into the air. Like I’m Marilyn Monroe and I’ve stepped onto one of those subway grates. The fabric rises quickly, and a breeze hits me right between the legs, which is the exact moment I remember that I’m not wearing panties. Because they were covered in the coffee Armstrong spilled in my lap.

I drop the papers and battle the fabric back down. It’s fruitless, though, the wind tunnel whirls through the room like Dorothy’s freaking tornado, and the back of my dress goes up. I meet Lincoln’s gaze from across the small room. All it takes is a second of eye contact before those ridiculously blue eyes pull me in, and weird, inappropriate things start happening to my body. It’s irritating as hell. I don’t even like this guy, but my body seems as if it hasn’t gotten the same memo as the rest of me. Even more aggravating is the realization that based on his expression, he totally caught an eyeful of cooch.

Lincoln stands frozen at the door, eyes wide and fixed on my crotch, mouth hanging open.

“Close the damn door!” My voice is siren high. And loud.

“Right. Yes. I’m going. Now.” He steps out of my office, pulling the door closed behind him.

My dress settles around my knees. “Dammit.” I drop into my chair, which is probably what I should’ve done as soon as the wind tunnel started, but clearly, I’d been too panicked to think straight.

On the upside, I went to see my waxer last week, so he’s seen my girl bits when they’re looking their finest.

On the downside, my project for the next six months has seen my naked girl bits.

 

  About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

 

 

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Now Available!

Now Available!

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00027]

 

What do you do when you’re the reigning kissing booth champion but the only person you want to kiss is your best friend’s brother?

 

Kiss Me Not, an all-new hilarious brother’s best friend romance from New York Times bestselling author Emma Hart is available now!

 

Synopsis

 

Let me make this clear right here, right now: I, Halley Dawson, do not care that Preston Wright is kissing other women.

Not a lick. Not at all. Nuh-uh-freakin’-uh.

I do care that he’s doing it six feet away from me behind a gaudy velvet curtain—making him my competition in this year’s kissing contest.

Why do I care, you ask? Because I’ve had an unfortunate crush on the insufferable idiot since I was sixteen years old, but I also know it’s never going to happen.

He’s the Creek Falls bachelor to die for, and I’m the Creek Falls racoon lady who puts peanut butter sandwiches out for them every night.

I’m not going to let him break my four-year-long reign—no matter how many times he breaks the rules and slides the curtain across to do the one thing he’s not allowed to:

Kiss me.

kmn-1

 

 

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Excerpt

“I never answered your question.”

“What question?” I darted my eyes to the side.

“Just now. You asked me if I wanted to kiss you.”

I did, didn’t I? Right. “Oh,” was all I said.

Slowly, he moved his hand to my chin and gently lifted it. Still, I didn’t look at him, keeping my eyes firmly trained on the front of the tent, even though I was facing him.

“Halley.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to kiss you.”

My eyes darted to his.

“I thought that’d do it.” His lips twitched, and he lowered his head until I had to fight the urge to close my eyes in anticipation of the kiss that was coming.

I swallowed, my lips parting.

Preston moved closer.

And he kissed my cheek.

I jerked out of whatever trance I’d just been in. “What the hell?”

He jumped off the stage, grinning. “I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to break the stalemate, won’t we?”

“Oh, hell no!” I jumped off, stalking him to his side of the stage. “You just stood there in front of me and told me you want to kiss me, then kiss my cheek? The hell was that?”

His eyebrows shot up, amusement flashing in his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to kiss me, too.”

“Irrelevant,” I shot back. “But you’re a special kind of asshole to tell a girl you wanna kiss her and then not do it.” I turned around, then stopped. “You know what? When I beat you tomorrow, you can kiss my ass.”

“You’re way too mad about this.”

“I’m not mad!” My voice raised a few octaves. “I couldn’t care if you want to kiss me or not. I most certainly don’t want to kiss you.”

“Why are you shouting at me?”

“I’m not—” I was shouting at him. “Whatever,” I said in a normal voice. “Make sure you take that money to the bank. Tell Tish I sent you.”

I left him on his side of the curtain and went to get my purse. He could get fucked. After all that where I think I was so damn nervous I broke a sweat, he didn’t even kiss me.

I wasn’t lying with what I said.

He could kiss my ass.

I’d even wear my good panties and bend over for him.

About Emma Hart

 

EmmaHart

 

Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.

​She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.

​Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.

​Yes, really. She’s that sarcastic.

 

Connect with Emma

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Now Available!

Now Available!

How to Love a Duke in Ten days_MM

 

“Romantic, lush, and suspenseful.”― Suzanne Enoch, New York Times bestselling author

 

How to Love a Duke in Ten Days, an all-new must-read historical romance from USA Today bestselling author Kerrigan Byrne, is available now!!

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

These men are dark, bold, and brave. And there is only one woman who can bring them to their knees…

Famed and brilliant, Lady Alexandra Lane has always known how to look out for herself. But nobody would ever expect that she has darkness in her past—one that she pays a blackmailer to keep buried. Now, with her family nearing bankruptcy, Alexandra strikes upon a solution: Get married to one of the empire’s most wealthy eligible bachelors. Even if he does have the reputation of a devil.

LOVE TAKES NO PRISONERS

Piers Gedrick Atherton, the Duke of Redmayne, is seeking revenge and the first step is securing a bride. Winning a lady’s hand is not so easy, however, for a man known as the Terror of Torcliff. Then, Alexandra enters his life like a bolt of lightning. When she proposes marriage, Piers knows that, like him, trouble haunts her footsteps. But her gentleness, sharp wit, independent nature, and incredible beauty awakens every fierce desire within him. He will do whatever it takes to keep her safe in his arms.

 

 

 

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HTLAD - AN

 

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Excerpt:

Redmayne turned to her, looming closer. Larger.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t what?” “Don’t try to make me a good man.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace.” When she should have retreated, she didn’t.

Instead, she finished her whisky, enjoying the warm languor spreading from her middle to her blood.

“Good.” He became very still, watching as she licked the last of the honeyed liquor from her lips. The cool of the night suddenly disappeared, the air turned heavy with salt, and moisture, and . . . something more illicit.

Possibly dangerous.

“Have you ever really been kissed, Alexandra Lane?”

She blinked. And froze. However, the usual paralyzing terror that would have cinched around her bones at such a predicament . . . didn’t. Fear was more of a faint shimmer through veins made sluggish with whisky. It was accompanied by another more curious emotion. Not excitement, but something adjacent to it. Why did he want to know? What did he hope her answer would be? Indeed, what should she say?

The truth, of course. A lie would not serve her here, and besides, she’d too many of those on her conscience to bother with a flippant fib in the dark.

“N-no.” She wished her voice were stronger. That she’d had a different, more worldly experience to share. But alas, she’d never allowed a man close enough to kiss her. As far as she was concerned, men had long ago ceased wanting to.

“I thought not,” he murmured, setting his glass next to hers on the bannister.

Alexandra forced another swallow. “How—I mean— why thought you not?” And why was she suddenly speaking nonsense?

A faint hint of arrogance brushed at his lips. “Men like me can just tell.” Her heart kicked against her lungs, evoking shorter, shallower breaths.

“Men like you?”

“Hunters.” The vibration of the word spread down her spine and unfurled in the most alarming places. “Your lips, innocent as they are, beg to be kissed whenever I am near. Your tongue moistens them. Your teeth worry at them. And when I stare, as I am doing now, they soften and part, like an invitation . . .”

Stunned, Alexandra curled her lips around her teeth as if to hide them from him. Had he really gleaned all that from her mouth? Had her lips truly betrayed her so?

He paused, glancing up. “Your eyes are always afraid, though. I think it’s because you can sense I want to kiss you, too.”

“Y-you do?”

He nodded, his own lips melting into a soft smile at the abject astonishment in her question.

“Since the moment we met on the train platform, I’ve dreamt of kissing you in more than a dozen ways.”

            The sound she emitted was somewhere between a cough and a gasp. Were there more than a dozen ways to kiss? How many more?

“We . . . we shouldn’t be speaking of such things, Your Grace.” She turned away from him, suddenly trembling at the edge of an abyss, ready to leap into madness. He drew close, never once touching her. But the heat and strength of him stretched beyond his physical being, threading through the night toward her, endangering her composure.

Her resolve.

“It’s wrong, I know it,” he murmured, his voice containing an agony that tugged at her racing heart. “I’m to announce my engagement to your friend this very night, and all I can think of is what you’d taste like. I’m more of a monster than any scars or scandals I claim. But I’ve not kissed a woman since before the jaguar. I’ve not particularly wanted to until your lips drove me to distraction.”

Unable to hear any more, she whirled around.

“Would you marry me?” The idea had sparked like a fever, an idea that could fix everything. An idea that would release them all from the clutches of their sins. All it would cost was her soul.

About Kerrigan

 

Profile pic

 

Kerrigan has done many things to pay the bills, from law enforcement to belly dance instructor. Now she’s finally able to have the career she’d decided upon at thirteen when she announced to her very sceptical family that she was going to “grow up to be a romance novelist.” Whether she’s writing about Celtic Druids, Victorian bad boys, or brash Irish FBI Agents, Kerrigan uses her borderline-obsessive passion for history, her extensive Celtic ancestry, and her love of Shakespeare in almost every story.

She lives in a little Victorian coast town on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State with her wonderful husband. When she’s not writing you can find her sailing, beachcombing, kayaking, visiting wineries, breweries, and restaurants with friends, and hiking…okay…wandering aimlessly clenching bear spray in the mountains.

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Now Available!

Now Available!

NOTHING TO FEAR-300RGB

 

“A well-written heroine elevates this above similar black-ops romantic thrillers. Plenty of spycraft and action to satisfy suspense fans!” -Publishers Weekly

 

Nothing to Fear, book two in the steamy and action-packed Final Hour Series by Juno Rushdan is available now!

NTF - AN

 

 

Synopsis

 

Lives are on the line

National security is at risk

The clock is ticking

Fearsome Gray Box operative Gideon Stone is devoted to his work and his team. He’s never given reason to doubt his loyalty…until he’s tasked with investigating Willow Harper, a beguiling cryptologist suspected of selling deadly bio-agents on the black market.

He knows she’s innocent. He knows she’s being framed. And he knows that without him, Willow will be dead before sunrise.

Thrust into the crossfire of an insidious international conspiracy, Gideon will do anything to keep Willow safe…even if that means waging war against his own. With time running out, an unlikely bond pushes limits—and forges loyalties. Every move they make counts. And the real traitor is always watching…

 

NothingToFear Teaser#2

 

 

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Start the Series with Every Last Breath

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Excerpt

The pained sounds from Willow were real and had the inside of his chest twisting.

He hated how her life had been turned upside down. Over the last few hours, he’d asked a lot of her—high-pressure, high-risk things. She’d handled all of it with grit and trusted him with little explanation. It bumped his admiration of her several notches higher.

The absolute last thing he should do was go back in the other room, but her crying turned to sobbing, and he didn’t need her falling apart.

He threw his T-shirt on, set a five-minute timer—estimating it’d take longer than two to console her but not giving himself enough time to succumb to temptation—and stepped into the bathroom. Sanguine hair dye smeared the edge of the white tub on his right, making it look like a bloodbath. Plastic gloves lay on the floor.

Leaving the door ajar, he pivoted left. Willow turned to face him, trembling in front of the sink and mirror.

Water dripped from her dark-red hair in rivulets down her delicate body. Her flimsy gossamer underwear was see-through.

Blindsided, he stiffened.

He pinned his gaze on her face, refusing to veer for a second below her neck.

“I don’t look like me.” Tears spilled from her eyes.

Unable to stop his feet from moving closer, he went to touch her but thought better of it and drew his hands back to his sides.

“I-I hate this hair.” She burst into a series of hiccupping sobs. “None of this is me. Running. Dodging bullets. Stealing cars. Being a fugitive. This hair.”

Her raw vulnerability gutted him. He had to say or do something—only a heartless asshole wouldn’t comfort her—but he was frozen in place. “Please, don’t cry.”

She reached for him. He couldn’t avoid the collision of contact as she fell against his chest and pressed a palm to her mouth. Or perhaps he didn’t want to.

He wrapped his arms around her shivering body and held her, cradling her head against his sore sternum. She was warm, so warm and soft. Her fear was palpable, tearing him up on the inside. She really started sobbing as if she’d been holding back a moment ago.

Tightening his embrace, he shushed her and stroked her hair.

“Gideon, I can’t do this. I don’t know-how. I need things to go back to being normal. I need normal.”

“You can do this. Your hair changed, not who you are. I see you, Willow.”

She blinked up at him. He wiped the tears still streaming with his fingertips while keeping an arm around her.

“Same hazel eyes that can’t decide if they want to be brown or green.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, a whisper of a touch, and she leaned into his caress. “Same kind spirit.”

Her sobs slowed, her breathing steadied, her body growing calmer.

“You’re a survivor.I see you.

He skimmed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, heat burning his face. She stilled like she was holding her breath the same as him. He’d been attracted to scores of women…and then there was this.

Not mere attraction but a draw far stronger and more intense.

Kissing her would be a catastrophic mistake. An epic disaster.

But only a blind monk would have the willpower to resist.

Her hands flew to his cheeks as she rose on her tiptoes and yanked his mouth down to hers. Their lips locked—his ability to think rationally shut down on impact—and their tongues tangled in a sweet, filthy slide of a kiss.

His heart kicked into a frantic pounding like machine gunfire against his breastbone.

On a sharp, mingled breath, it turned deeper, hot and hard and hungry.

Her supple body pressed tight to his, her leg hooking on his hip like she wanted to climb him. All her soft warmth ground against the growing bulge in his pants. Every single point of connection sparked more heat.

He had to stop this, stop her, stop himself somehow.

Then she slid her hand along his torso, down to his erection. He nearly burst from his skin. Gripping the nape of her neck and her hip with his other hand, he jerked her closer. The hard suction of her mouth, the way she licked and laved, tied him up in knots.

Shuffling her back against the wall, he palmed her ass and caressed her breasts, flicking a thumb hard over her nipple.

It registered on some distant level when the thin mesh of her bra tore in his rough hands that he was being too aggressive. But her moans grew throaty and her hips rocked against his.

The absolute last thing he’d do was take her in a rush, in a bathroom, without condoms, when he needed to protect this scared, trusting woman from any danger.

And that included him.

About Juno

JunoRushdan

 

Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. However, you won’t find any classified leaks here. Her stories are pure fiction about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-after.

Although Juno is a native New Yorker, wanderlust has taken her across the globe. Fortunately, she is blessed with a husband who shares her passion for travel, movies, and fantastic food. She’s visited more than twenty different countries and has lived in England and Germany. Her favourite destination for relaxation is the Amalfi Coast, Italy for its stunning seascape, cliffside lemon groves, terraced vineyards, amazing pasta, and to-die-for vino.

When she’s not writing, Juno loves spending time with her family. Exercise is not her favourite thing to do, but she squeezes some in since chocolate and red wine aren’t calorie-free.

She currently resides in Virginia with her supportive hubby, two dynamic children, and spoiled rescue dogs. Check her out on Instagram, Facebook or follow her on Twitter or BookBub. She loves to connect with readers!

She is represented by Sara Megibow of KT Literary.

Connect with Juno

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https://junorushdan.com