New Release ~ Small Town Sweetheart by Toni Aleo!

Small Town Sweetheart by Toni Aleo is available NOW!

Amazon — https://amzn.to/2CHoOJI

iBooks — http://bit.ly/SweetheartiBooks

Nook — http://bit.ly/SweetheartNook

Kobo — http://bit.ly/SweetheartKobo

Delaney Abbot has never wanted to live anywhere other than Spring Grove, Kentucky. She loves the town, the people, and the whiskey made right down the road at McElroy’s Distillery. If only she could find a man in her beloved small town worthy of all that love she has to give.

The first thing Reed McElroy did when he finished high school was get the heck out of Spring Grove, Kentucky. He’s happy with his life as a veterinarian in the big city, and he would just as soon never step foot in his small town again.

Delaney has had a crush on Reed since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, but he never looked at her the same way. Now that tragedy has dragged him back home kicking and screaming, Reed has no choice but to make peace with a past clouded by small-mindedness and judgment. He is forced to see his hometown through grown-up eyes, and everywhere he looks, he finds local sweetheart Delaney. It seems like everyone in Spring Grove loves her. So, why shouldn’t he?

Don’t miss out on Not The One – get it now!

Amazon — https://amzn.to/2NYvIf0

iBooks — http://bit.ly/NTOiBooks

Nook — http://bit.ly/NTONook

Kobo — http://bit.ly/NTOKobo

About the Author:

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

Connect with Toni!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tonialeo1

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ToniAleo1

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/toni_aleo/

Intagram: https://instagram.com/tonialeo1/

Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2yGqqR6

New Release ~ Spin The Bottle by Sara Wylde

Spin the Bottle by Sara Wylde is available NOW!

“Smart and sexy NA contemporary—like the Goblin King if he starred in a modern day Cruel Intentions. I loved this story!” – USAT Bestselling Author, Virginia Nelson

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2MuENP6

iBooks → https://apple.co/2MXIvxw

Nook → http://bit.ly/2BlrVX8

Kobo → http://bit.ly/2Mw25nQ

Jax

I’m a virgin, but I don’t want to be. I just want to get it over with, so I made a list. I held interviews. (I know, I’m a total Type A.) The winner is Sebastian Rathbone. Grade A Beefcake who plays defense for the Grizzlies’ Rugby team. Manwhore extraordinaire. So basically, a professional. The problem? My best friend, Matt. For some reason, he wanted me to pick him. I’d never choose him because then I’d fall in love and I remember the hell that was middle school. Now that he’s grown into his head and feet, and he is by definition also Grade A Beefcake, there’s even less chance he’d ever feel more than friendship for me. Why put myself through that? I thought I’d locked all of that away until a game of Spin the Bottle makes me doubt everything. Especially the lie I’ve been telling myself about not being in love with my best friend.

Matt

Sebastian Rathbone? Dude. No way. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not the guy for Jax. If anyone knows the guy for Jax, that’s me. It hurts I wasn’t even consulted. Actually, what bothers me the most is that she didn’t ask me to be the one. To punch her V-Card, I mean. I’m pretty good at what I do, or so I’ve been told. It should be a good memory. Something special. And lemme tell you, Rathboner isn’t going to make it special for anyone. I don’t like it that there’s this part of her she’s going to give to someone else, but I guess I have to get right with it. I’m the best friend. Not the lover. Except when faced with losing her, I’ll have to take a spin on chance just one more time.

ADD TO YOUR TBR → http://bit.ly/2MpE7KF

Start the series today with Truth or Dare

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2Ok0RKk

iBooks → http://bit.ly/2v7NAvI

Nook → http://bit.ly/2v7NAvI

Kobo → http://bit.ly/2NJBJLZ

Google Play → http://bit.ly/2NJo6fJ

About the Author:

Sara Wylde is the crackfic! contemporary pen name for PNR/UF author Saranna DeWylde. She rather imagines that all the pen names live in the same dorm in her head and frequently have discussions that look and sound something like an episode of Herman’s Head.

Connect with Sara:

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

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2LvNeJx

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JT3eAa

New Release ~ Shot On Goal by Jami Davenport

These two professional skaters are about to meet their match.
“Shot on Goal is an experience in soul-searching. It’s painful, insightful and uplifting.” – I Love Books, Isha Coleman
Shot on Goal by Jami Davenport is available now!

When you’re at the top, there’s nowhere to go but down.

Two talented skaters. Two bright futures. Two shining stars. One ruined by a career-ending scandal and another by a father’s ruthless ambition.

She was the darling of the winter games, winning a bronze in pairs figure skating one week after losing both parents in a car accident.

He was the future of the Sockeyes hockey team crowned the best young player in the league and heir-apparent to the hockey throne once occupied by his father.

Together they’re fire and ice, and when things get that hot, they melt. Can these two broken souls find comfort and courage in each other’s arms or will they find only pain and regret?

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author Jami Davenport writes sexy contemporary and sports romances, including her two new indie endeavors: the Game On in Seattle Series and the Madrona Island Series. Jami’s new releases consistently rank in the top fifty on the sports romance and sports genre lists on Amazon, and she has hit the Amazon top hundred authors list in both contemporary romance and genre fiction multiple times. Jami ranked Number Seven on Kobo’s Top Ten Most Completed Authors, an honor bestowed on the year’s “most engaging” authors based on an average page completion rate by their readers.

Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her Green Beret-turned-plumber husband, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.

Jami works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. She’s a lifetime Seahawks and Mariners fan and is waiting for the day professional hockey comes to Seattle. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, a common setting in her books. In her opinion, it’s the most beautiful place on earth.

Connect with Jami!

Subscribe to my newsletter to receive a free novel and be notified of new releases, special sales, and contests: http://eepurl.com/LpfaL

Website Address: http://www.jamidavenport.com

Twitter Address: @jamidavenport

Facebook Address: http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenport

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jamidavenport/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1637218.Jami_Davenport

Excerpt Reveal ~ Restless Ink by Carrie Ann Ryan

The Montgomerys just got hotter… RESTLESS INK by Carrie Ann Ryan releases September 18th, but you can read part of the first chapter now! Check it out below and preorder your copy now!

 

About RESTLESS INK

Available September 18, 2018

The Montgomery Ink series continues with the so-called sensible sister and the one man she never should have fallen for.

For Thea Montgomery, baking isn’t only therapeutic, it’s also her dream job. She’s worked countless hours keeping her bakery afloat, and now that it’s where she wants it to be, she’s ready to expand and take the next step. When it comes to work and her family, she’s on top of her game. Her personal life, however, is a different story.

When Dimitri Carr isn’t teaching and hiding his ink under long sleeves to keep the bosses happy, he’s trying to be the best brother and friend he can be. After his divorce, he’d thought he would lose Thea from his life forever because she’s his ex-wife’s best friend. But now that he’s free, and the two of them realize they want to keep their friendship. Then he finally sees what he’s been missing all this time.

But there are more problems than the fact that Dimitri is Thea’s best friend’s ex. And when accidental touches and flirtations aren’t enough for either of them, and they’re finally ready to take the next step, they’ll find out exactly what that cost is for crossing that line. And will need to find the strength to face it.

RESTLESS INK releases September 18th – preorder your copy now!

✦Amazon http://amzn.to/2xykEQ9
✦iBooks http://apple.co/2hj9JDL
✦B&N http://bit.ly/2P5bKAa
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/2hiqorn
✦Google Play http://bit.ly/2MoqgEm
✦Amazon Paperback https://amzn.to/2P1YNHl
✦Audiobook https://adbl.co/2P1YP1V

 

Read part of the first chapter of RESTLESS INK!

Thea Montgomery flopped down on the bed and knew that tonight was the first and last time she’d sleep with Roger. She never should have slept with a man name Roger anyway. He was just as dull as his name suggested. She’d gone into date number six thinking that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he seemed and wondering if maybe her standards were set too high. After all, not every Roger could be Roger Federer— the king of Rogers and the court.

She’d liked this Roger, at least she’d assumed she did. She’d thought that if she worked harder, they’d have more than just their small attraction. And because she liked sex, and she thought she liked Roger, she’d slept with him. He let out a pleased sigh beside her, and she held back a sigh of her own— of a very different kind.

This had been a mistake. But not her first, and probably not her last.

Damn it, Thea, get your act together.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. She was the sensible Montgomery. The one that joked about sex with her sisters but rarely had it. She’d been too busy starting her business and far too picky to jump into bed with just anyone. And since it had taken six dates with Roger to get to this stage, she figured she really wasn’t jumping. It was more like a gentle hop.

But there’d been nothing hopping in bed with Roger tonight, and now she hated that she sounded so callous about it. Even to herself. He was sweet. He was nice. And… he had no idea what he was doing with his hands or his tongue. And she had a feeling if she were to tell him something along those lines— even gently— and try to show him what she wanted, he’d be one of those guys that pushed back, blaming it on her.

It had happened once or twice.

Okay, four times, but seriously, some guys needed to watch a little less anal porn and a little more cunnilingus. It wasn’t that hard.

Roger turned over at that moment and reached out to pat her stomach. She winced since that wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world, but then again, nothing about what had just happened could be classified as romance. Ugh, now she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do with her feelings except feel them. Her family had taught her that.

And she really shouldn’t be thinking of family lessons while naked in bed with a man she wasn’t going to see again.

“So… nice, eh?”

Dear God.

“Sure. It was great.” She could hear the false note in her tone, but she wasn’t sure he could. She hated herself just a bit that she hadn’t had any fun, but she’d thought that maybe if she tried hard enough, things would work out.

Apparently, there just wasn’t enough chemistry between them, and she probably should have figured that out before she got into bed with him, but she’d thought there’d been enough.

“I have an early day tomorrow, but I’ll walk you out.”

She barely held back a slow blink. Walk her out? Why didn’t she just leave money on the table on her way to the door?

She sat up, using the sheet to cover herself since she didn’t really feel like baring herself more than she already had and pasted a smile on her face. She’d wanted to leave anyway, but now she felt as though she had to. As if she weren’t good enough for him to even want to talk to beyond patting her on the stomach like a dog who’d learned a new trick and wanted some love.

Hell, she needed to get out of there before she got angry and said something she would regret. Because before this moment, Roger had been nice. Maybe too nice. Perhaps that niceness had covered up his bad sex and selfish ways.

Now, she really needed to get out of there. He sat in bed, looking pleased with himself as she put on her panties while still hiding under the sheet. She slid into her dress, not bothering with her bra since she couldn’t do that one-handed.

And even as she clumsily tried to dress behind the sheet, he lay there. Watching her. Why had she thought he was nice?

Oh, because he had been. But not the kind of nice she needed in her life.

Finally, she dropped the sheet since she now wore her panties and dress. She quickly stuffed her bra into her tiny purse, the straps hanging out, slid her feet into her heels, and wrapped her jacket around herself. She’d dressed up for this date and had thought it might lead to something more.

Boy had she been wrong. “Don’t bother locking the door on your way out. I’ll get up and do it soon. Wore me out, you know?” He winked, and Thea knew she needed a shower— and maybe a bath, too.

A hot one that would take off the first layer of her skin because she was never going to get the feeling of him off her.

What had she been thinking? Roger?

Jesus, she needed to take a hard look at her life and maybe never go on another date with a man because she’d seriously never felt this humiliated. It didn’t matter that she’d taken her time, done her research on him, and had wanted to make sure she liked him before she went to bed with him. It hadn’t been enough.

Men were slime, and Roger was the slimiest.

“Yeah. Sure. Bye.”

“Thanks for tonight, babe. I’ll call you.”

“Don’t bother,” she whispered as she walked away, her middle finger in the air. It was possible he couldn’t see it, but it was still warranted.

“Don’t be that way, babe,” he yelled from the bedroom where he still hadn’t moved, but she ignored him, closing the front door softly behind her. As much as she wanted to slam it, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of her showing any emotion beyond coldness.

Because she was Thea, the ice bitch who played with icing in her bakery. She knew what her exes had said before, and now Roger would just be another of those who thought her cold or something along those lines.

Whatever, she was done with men.

She got into her car, threw her purse onto the passenger seat, and made her way to the grocery store. She was so freaking mad, she didn’t even want to bake. That’s when she knew that something was wrong, and if she didn’t get some sugar soon, she would break— and that wasn’t something Roger deserved. And because she didn’t want to do something she loved, she knew she was right at the level where she’d start crying in her car, and she refused to do that.

So, she’d go to the store, pick up some ice cream, then eat the whole pint before she went to bed. Alone. Because, of course, she would be alone. Why wouldn’t she be?

“Ugh,” Thea whispered to herself, annoyed at her train of thought. She hated self-pity, but being tossed out after a particularly bad bout of sex had kind of sent her over the edge into the land of meh.

As soon as she parked, she leapt from the car, purse in hand, and made her way into the twenty-four-hour market. Hopefully, she’d be in and out quickly, and no one she knew would see her do her version of a sugar-loaded walk of shame.

Of course, that’s when her heel broke.

Because… of course, it did.

Nothing good ever came from lack of orgasms.

Fuck this night.

Fuck it hard.

Fuck it harder than she’d been fucked.

Though that wouldn’t be hard, because… Roger.

She picked up the broken part of her heel and limped her way to the frozen food section. She’d be damned if she left without her sugar. Now, though, she’d buy five pints because it was just that kind of night.

Thea was just deciding between the low-calorie fake ice cream and the good old-fashioned heavy cream version when a familiar voice called her name. “Thea?”

Why not tonight? Seriously. Why wouldn’t this man be right by her after everything that had happened already? Seemed about right.

She rolled her shoulders back and turned to Dimitri, her best friend’s ex-husband and Thea’s friend, as well. If she were going to meet anyone in a grocery store after what had turned out to be a horrible date while wearing a broken heel, her version of the walk of shame outfit, and messy bedhead hair that tumbled down her shoulders in dark waves, it might as well be him.

“Hey, Dimitri.”

Dimitri. The man had once been in her life just as much as Molly had. Thea had been friends with both of them and had even known the two separately before they started dating. She’d also refused to take sides during the separation and then after the divorce. Of course, it had always been Molly who wanted Thea to take a side. Dimitri stayed quiet, clearly hurting from the breakup at the time and the changes in his life. He’d tried to keep his friendship with Thea soon after the papers had been signed and even a few months following that, but Thea had always felt awkward because of Molly. Now, she had a feeling she’d made the wrong choice because Dimitri was her friend too, and she’d lost him.

She looked over the line of his jaw, the bend on his nose from where he’d broken it in a bar fight in college— a scuffle that had been about protecting a friend and not because of too many drinks. He wore a cotton shirt under his leather jacket that clung to his wide chest, and jeans that molded to his thighs— not that she was looking at his legs. She knew he had a large tattoo on one quad that was part of his family history, words in Cyrillic that she’d never been able to decipher. He also had a grouping of trees on his forearm and wrist that made a half-sleeve that he’d said reminded him of his family’s home. He was a fourth-generation American and had never been to the place his family hailed from, even his last name wasn’t Russian, but he’d always loved his ink.

That much Thea remembered about him, even though she hadn’t set eyes on him in a month— though it felt like far longer. His brow rose as he studied her, his gaze traveling down her dress to her broken heel. It wasn’t like she could hide anything.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t smile as he said it. In fact, he looked angry, really angry. “Do you want me to take you somewhere? To talk?”

She blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.” Well, she would be fine once she had her ice cream and a long bath, but she didn’t need to tell him the details.

Dimitri moved closer and lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear. She ignored the heat of his breath on her neck. Apparently, she was having an off night if she were even thinking about that at all.

“Your dress is on inside out underneath your coat, you have a broken heel, your hair looks tangled, and your bra is in your purse. Are you sure you’re okay? Did someone attack you? I’ll take you out of here right now and do whatever you need. Just let me help.”

Dear. God.

There had to be a better word than mortification for what slid through her right then. If there were a hole opening up anywhere around her, she’d freely jump into it. She’d forgotten about her damn bra and could now clearly remember the straps dangling from her purse. And because she’d been trying to keep the sheet over herself, she’d put on her dress incorrectly, and hadn’t noticed because she just wanted out of Roger’s place.

Could this night get any worse?

She shouldn’t even tempt the fates with that question. She just hoped they hadn’t heard her think it.

 

 

About Carrie Ann Ryan

Carrie Ann Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance. Her works include the Montgomery Ink, Redwood Pack, Talon Pack, and Gallagher Brothers series, which have sold over 2.0 million books worldwide. She started writing while in graduate school for her advanced degree in chemistry and hasn’t stopped since. Carrie Ann has written over fifty novels and novellas with more in the works. When she’s not writing about bearded tattooed men or alpha wolves that need to find their mates, she’s reading as much as she can and exploring the world of baking and gourmet cooking.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest

Chapter Reveal ~ P. S. I Miss You by Winter Renshaw

Melrose,

The first time I met you, you were a stranger. The second time, you were my roommate. The third time, you made it clear you were about to become the biggest thorn my side had ever known.

You sing way too loud in the shower and use all the hot water.

You’re bossy as hell.

You make my life all kinds of complicated.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you.

And truthfully … I can’t stop wanting you.

I was going to tell you this. I was going to sit you down, swallow my pride, hang up my noncommittal ways and show you a side of me you nor anyone else has ever seen before … but then you dropped a game-changing bombshell; a confession so nuclear it stopped me in my tracks.

How I didn’t see this coming, I’ll never know.

Sutter

P.S. I miss you.

Melrose

I’ve been a dog-walker on an episode of Will & Grace.
A bakery shop owner in a Lifetime movie.
Ryan Gosling’s kid sister in an indie flick that never saw the light of day.
Victim #2 in a season eighteen episode of Law & Order: SVU.
But today I’m faced with my most challenging role yet; a camera-less reality show called Girl with Lifelong Crush on Best Guy Friend starring Melrose Claiborne as … Melrose Claiborne.
Standing outside Nick Camden’s Studio City bungalow, I straighten my shoulders, smooth my blonde waves into place, and press my index finger against the doorbell. The heavy thump of my heart suggests it’s going to fall to the floor the second he opens the door—but I’m hopeful the butterflies in my stomach will catch it first.
He has this effect on me.
Every. Single. Time.
And that’s saying something because it takes a lot to make me nervous, to throw me off my game. But my crush on him has only intensified over the years, growing stronger with each unrequited year that passes.
But last night, out of nowhere, Nick called me—which was strange because Nick never calls. He only ever texts. He’s so against calling, in fact, that he has his ringer permanently set to “off’ and his voicemail box has been full for the last six and a half years.
“Mel, I need to talk to you tomorrow,” he’d said, breathless almost. There was a hint of a smile in his tone, giddiness. “It’s really important.”
“Nick, you’re scaring me,” I told him, half wondering if someone slipped something into his drink and he was drugged out of his mind. “Just tell me now.”
“I have to tell you in person. And I have something to ask you, something crazy important,” he said. “Oh my god. This is insane. I’m so damn nervous, Mel. But as soon as you get here tomorrow, I’ll tell you. I’ve been wanting to tell you about this for a long time, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t until now. But now I can. And I can’t fucking wait. This is huge, Mel. This is … oh, God.”
“Nick …” I paced my bedroom floor, my left palm clasped across my forehead. In nearly two decades of friendship, I’d never heard Nick so worked up before. “Can’t you just tell me now?”
“Come over tomorrow. Around three,” he’d said. “This is something that needs to be done in person.”
I ring his doorbell again before checking the time on my phone. Stifling a yawn, I rise on my toes and try to peek inside the glass sidelights of his front door. Knowing Nick, he probably got sidetracked or ran out for burritos and got caught up in conversation with someone he knows.
Then again … he was pretty insistent about talking to me in person at three o’clock about this “major” thing. I can’t imagine he’d space this off.
All night, I tossed and turned, trying to wrap my head around what this could possibly be, how I could know someone for so long and fail miserably trying to get a read on them.
Growing up, Nick lived next door, and the two of us were inseparable from the day he first moved into the neighborhood and I found him by the creek trying to capture bullfrogs—which I promptly forced him to set free. By the end of the day, we both realized our bedroom windows aligned on the second floors of our houses, and by the end of the week, he gave me a walkie-talkie and told me I was his best friend.
When we were ten, he gave me a friendship necklace—like the kind girls usually give to other girls. He gave me the half that said “best” and wore the “friend” half but always tucked it under his shirt so no one would give him any shit—not that anyone would.
Everyone loved Nick.
It wasn’t until the summer after seventh grade that Nick hit a growth spurt and everything changed.
His voice got deeper.
His legs got longer.
Even his features became more chiseled and defined.
It was like he aged several years over the course of a couple of months, and I found myself looking at him in ways I never had before. And when I closed my eyes at night, I found myself thinking about what it’d be like if he kissed me.
Almost overnight, I’d gone from running next door with a messy ponytail to see if he wanted to ride bikes … to slicking on an extra coat of Dr. Pepper Lip Smackers and running a brush through my hair any time I knew I was going to see him.
Suddenly I couldn’t look at him without blushing.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who noticed Nick’s head-turning transformation.
Nick’s door swings open with a quick creak and I don’t have time to realize what’s happening before he sweeps me into his arms and swings me around the front porch of his rented bungalow.
“Melly!” He buries his face into my shoulder, squeezing me so hard I can’t breathe, nearly suffocating the swarm of butterflies in my middle.
I breathe in that perpetual Nick scent, the one that always feels like home. Like the faintest hint of bar smoke and cheap fabric softener and Irish Spring soap.
Growing up in Brentwood, the son of a successful screenwriter and composer, Nick could’ve had it all—materially and professionally. His parents had connections that would put Steven Spielberg to shame.
But all he ever wanted was to be a regular guy who got by on merit, and I adored that about him.
“Look at you,” he says when he puts me down. His hands are threaded in mine as his ocean gaze scans me from head to toe. “I haven’t seen you in months.”
Three months, two weeks, and five days—but who’s counting?
The last time we hung out was on my birthday, and there were so many people at the bar, I barely had a chance to say more than two sentences to him all night. We’d made plans to get together the following weekend, but his band booked a gig in Vegas and I was leaving to film a Lifetime movie in Vancouver the day before he was coming back.
Life’s been consistent that way, always pulling us in separate directions at the most inconvenient of times.
“You find the place all right?” he asks as he leads me inside. The scent of Windex and clean laundry fills my lungs, and a folded blanket rests over the back of a leather chair in the living room.
I chuckle at the thought of Nick tidying up before I got here. He was always a slob growing up. Case in point? One year I tripped over a pair of his Chucks as I entered his bedroom and almost knocked my front teeth out on a messy stack of vinyl records. His empty guitar case caught my fall, but the next day he bought a shoe organizer.
“I did,” I say, glancing around his new digs. Last time I saw him, he was living in some apartment with four roommates in Toluca Lake. The time before that he was shacking up with a fuck buddy-slash-Instagram model named Kadence St. Kilda, but that was short-lived because the girl ultimately wanted exclusivity, and that’s something Nick’s never been able to offer anyone—that I know of. “When did you move here?”
“Last month,” he says. “I’m subletting from my drummer’s cousin.”
The sound of pots and pans clinking in the kitchen tells me we’re not alone, but I’m not surprised. Nick has always had roommates. He’s painfully extroverted. Guy can’t stand to be alone for more than five minutes but not in the clingy, obnoxious sort of way. More in the charismatic, life-of-the-party, always-down-for-a-good-time sort of way.
I follow Nick to the living room, and he points to the middle cushion of a cognac leather sofa before slicking his palms together and pacing the small space.
“Nick.” I laugh. “You’re acting like a crazy person … you know that, right?”
His ocean gaze lands on mine and he stops pacing for a moment. “I’m so fucking nervous.”
“You don’t have to be nervous around me. Ever.”
“This is different.” He stops pacing for a second. “This is something I’ve never told you before.”
Oh god.
My heart flutters, and some long-buried hope makes its way out in the form of a smile on my face, but I bite it away.
I’d never admit this out loud, but last night a very real part of me believed this entire thing centered around Nick wanting to tell me he has feelings for me, that he wants to date me.
The idea is absurd, I know.
Things like this don’t happen out of nowhere.
I’m not naïve and I’m not an idiot. I know the odds of my best friend going months without seeing me and suddenly professing his love for me are slim to none, but I’ve tried to come up with alternate theories, and none of them made sense because Nick’s never been nervous around me for any reason.
Ever.
What else could possibly make him nervous around me other than a heartfelt confession?
Crossing my legs and sitting up straight, I say, “Come on. Spit it out. I don’t have all day.”
He cups his hands over his nose and mouth, releasing a hard breath, and when he lets them fall, I find the dopiest grin on his face.
His eyes water like a teenage girl with a backstage pass to a Harry Styles concert.
Nick tries to speak but he can’t.
Oh my god.
He’s doing it.
He’s actually telling me he likes me …
“Melrose,” he says, pulling in a hard breath before dropping to his knees in front of me. He takes my hands in his, and I swear my vision fades out for a second. “You know when we were kids and we used to tell each other everything?”
“Yeah …”
“There was something I never told you,” he says, eyes locked with mine. “I guess … I guess I was afraid to say it out loud. I was afraid this thing I wanted so bad, this thing I wanted more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life, wasn’t going to come true. And I thought that by admitting it, I was only going to jinx myself. So I kept it to myself, but I can’t anymore. It’s too big. It’s eating away at me and it has been for years. But it’s time. I have to tell you.”
He’s rambling.
Nick never rambles.
His trembling hands squeeze mine and then he rises, taking the spot on the couch beside me. Cupping my face in his hands, he offers a tepid smile that’s soon eaten away by his own anxiety. “This is insane, Melrose. I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.”
My mouth parts and I’m milliseconds from blurting out something along the lines of “I’ve liked you since we were kids, too …” but I bite my tongue and let him go first.
“You know how I have my band, right?” he asks, referring to Melrose Nights, the band he founded in high school and named after me.
I nod, heart sinking. No … plummeting.
“What about it?” I ask, blinking away the embarrassed burn in my eyes.
“My dream, Mel, was always to hit it big,” he said. “Like, commercially big.”
My brows lift. This is news to me.
He was always about the indie scene, always so against the big music corporations that controlled every song the American people were played on the radio.
“Really?” I tuck my chin against my chest. “Because you always said—”
“I know what I always said,” he cuts me off. “But the more I got to thinking about it, the more I thought … I just want my songs to be in the ears of as many people as possible. And it’s not even about becoming famous or having money, you know I’m not about any of that. I just want people to know my songs. That’s all.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and glance toward a wood-burning fireplace in the corner where a crushed, empty can of Old Milwaukee—Nick’s signature beverage of choice—rests on the mantel next to what appears to be a crumpled lace bra.
Guess he forgot a few things when he was straightening up …
“Okay, so what are you trying to tell me?” I ask, squinting.
“We got signed …” his mouth pulled so wide, he looks like a bona fide crazy person right now, “… and not only that, but we’re going on tour with Maroon 5.”
I try not to let my rampant disbelief show on my face, but something tells me I’m failing miserably. He reads my expression, searching my eyes, and his silly grin fades.
“You hate Maroon 5,” I say.
“I used to hate Maroon 5,” he corrects me. “Anyway, the act they had fell through last minute, so they got us. We leave next week.”
“Next week? For how long?”
“Six months.” His callused hands smack together. “Six months on the road with one of the biggest music acts in North America.”
He says that last part out loud, like he’s still in disbelief over this entire thing.
Which makes two of us.
“Wow, Nick … that’s … this is huge. You were right. This is some big news,” I say. Everything is sinking. My voice. My heart. My hope. “I’m so happy for you.”
I throw my arms around him, inhale his musky scent, and squeeze him tight. There’s a pang in my chest, a tightness in my middle, like that indescribable sensation that washes over you when you know something’s about to change and things will never be the same again.
But I meant what I said. I am happy for him. I had no idea this was what he wanted, but now that he’s shared this with me, I am thrilled for him. He’s my best friend, my oldest friend, and all I want is for him to be happy.
Plus, he deserves this.
Nick is insanely talented.
Music.
Lyrics.
Singing.
Playing.
Producing.
Mixing.
It all comes natural to him. Keeping it under wraps on some lowdown indie scene would be doing a disservice to the rest of the world.
“I get that this is huge, Nick, but I’m curious … why couldn’t you tell me this over the phone?” I ask. “Why’d you make me drive all the way out here just so you could tell me in person?”
Nick leans back, studying my face as he rakes his palm along his five o’clock shadow. “Because I have a favor to ask you …”
Lifting one brow, I study him right back. He’s never asked me a single favor as long as I’ve known him (excluding those times he wanted me to talk to girls for him in middle school or steal him an extra Italian Ice at lunch).
“See, I’m taking over this guy’s lease,” he says. “I pay fifteen hundred a month for my half of the rent. Plus utilities. You know what a cheap bastard I am, right? I just don’t want to throw that money away over the next several months, and I don’t want to stick Sutter with my half of the rent and everything because that’s just shitty.”
“Sutter?” I ask.
“Sutter Alcott. My roommate,” he says. “Cool guy. Electrician. Owns his own company. You’ll like him. Anyway, I know you’re living in your Gram’s guesthouse, but you’re the only person I know who’s not locked under a lease, so I thought mayyyyybe you might want to help me out for a few months? As a favor? And in return, I’ll … I don’t know. I’ll do something for you. What do you want? You want a backstage pass to a Maroon 5 concert? You want to meet Adam?”
“You’re already on a first name basis with Adam Levine?” I ask, head cocked.
Nick smirks. “Not yet. But I will be.”
“I don’t know …” I pull in a long, slow breath. “What about Murphy?”
“We’ve got a fenced-in yard,” he says, pointing toward the back of the house. “He’ll love it here.”
“What about your roommate? Would he be cool living with a stranger?” I ask.
“Totally.”
“And you’re sure he’s not a serial killer?” I keep my voice low, leaning in.
Nick chokes on his spit. “Uh, yeah, no. He’s not a serial killer. Lady killer? Sure. Serial killer? No way.”
Our eyes hold and I silently straddle the line between staying put and saying yes to this little favor.
My cousin-slash-roommate, Maritza, recently moved out and got a place with her boyfriend, Isaiah, so it’s just Murphy and I in the guesthouse now. It gets quiet sometimes. Lonely too. And Gram’s on this travel-the-world kick lately. One week she’s home, the next week she’s in Bali for twelve days with her best friend Constance or one of the Kennedys.
A change of scenery might be nice …
“I’ll do anything, Mel. Anything.” He clasps his hands together and sticks out his bottom lip, brows raised.
Dork.
“Begging’s not a good look for you. FYI,” I say.
“Okay, then what’s it going to take for you to say yes?” His hands drop to his lap.
I try to speak, but I don’t know what to say.
“See,” Nick says. “You don’t even have a good reason to turn me down.”
He’s right.
I can’t blame it on the location because it isn’t out of the way. I can’t blame it on my dog. I can’t blame it on a lease. I can’t blame it on money because fifteen hundred a month is exactly what Gram charges me for rent, because free rides aren’t a thing in the Claiborne family.
But aside from all of that, I know Nick would do this for me if I ever needed him to.
Shrugging, I look him in the eyes and smile. “Fine.”
A second later, I’m captured in his embrace and he’s squeezing me and bouncing like a hyper child. With one word, I’ve unearthed a side of Nick I never knew existed.
“I freaking love you, Mel,” he says, hugging me tighter. “I love you so much.”
I expected to hear those words today … just didn’t think I’d hear them in this context.

Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.

And if you’d like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here —> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j

Author Links

Check out the brand new cover of Samantha Young’s On Dublin Street!

Check out the brand new cover of Samantha Young’s On Dublin Street!

Read the all new chapter 1 from Braden’s POV!!

On Dublin Street by Samantha Young

Chapter 1 – from Braden’s POV

Sighing, Braden shrugged his shoulders back and looked up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight. Decked out in a three-piece suit on a hot day like this didn’t ease his growing frustration with his plan to sell La Cour. No one knew he was thinking of selling La Cour except Thomas Prendergast, a fellow restaurateur. A successful one. If any of his business associates knew Braden was selling La Cour they’d think he was nuts. The restaurant had a world-class chef and a stellar reputation. And it made money.

In truth, Braden was just stretched too thin and not interested in La Cour. All his concentration and focus was going into making his nightclub Fire a success, developing properties that turned profits, and of course he still had his father’s estate agency to keep up with, as well as a successful Scottish seasonal restaurant he co-owned with the chef, Frazier Allie, down on the Shore.

La Cour as it stood was a nuisance, a nuisance Braden felt obligated to attend to since his father worked so hard to make it the success it was. But his father had always told him that when business became a nuisance rather than a challenge, and was no longer satisfying, it was time to move on to greener pastures.

Thomas was dragging his feet with an answer.

He glanced back at the restaurant. Come on, Thomas, make up your mind, man.

Braden’s phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the digital reminder informing him he had a meeting in twenty minutes with one of his managers at Douglas Carmichael & Co, the estate agency his grandfather built up from the ground up to become one of the primary agencies in the Lothians.

Shit. He’d spent longer with Thomas Prendergast than he’d meant to. Scowling, Braden walked toward Bruntsfield Church, his pale blue eyes trained on the road ahead, willing a cab to make an appearance. Only seconds later one turned around the corner and he stepped out onto the curb with his arm raised. To his relief the taxi pulled up to him. He’d make his meeting.

Reaching for the handle on the passenger side, a clean, fruity smell drifted towards him seconds before a warm, small and very feminine hand collided with his.

Braden dipped his head and looked down into the face of a woman, her skin bright from the sunlight, her eyes narrowed to slits as she squinted against the sun behind his head. There was a surprised disgruntlement in her expression. Clearly she assumed this was her black cab. Braden prepared to disabuse her of the notion but stopped. His father taught him that reading people, and by that he meant all the things they didn’t say with their mouths but did with their bodies and eyes, was the key to success in business. Braden read stubbornness in her features he could make out and in the obstinate tension she held in her shoulders. He was in no mood for stubbornness or fighting over a bloody cab after his meeting with Thomas had come to no satisfactory conclusion.

For the sake of expedience Braden asked, “Which way are you headed?”

He heard the words ‘Dublin Street’ and did what he always did: maneuvered things to his liking. “Good.” He pulled the cab door open. “I’m heading in that direction, and since I’m already running late, might I suggest we share the taxi instead of wasting ten minutes deciding who needs it more.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and nudged her into the cab.

Relieved she didn’t stall them, Braden got in after her and immediately gave the cab driver their first destination. His sister, Ellie, lived on Dublin Street in a flat he’d renovated and then gifted to her. Ellie was his half-sister—they shared the same father. She’d never had it particularly easy from their dad. That was putting it politely. Douglas Carmichael was a negligent bastard and despite the fact that he and Braden had finally become friends of a sort before he died, Braden had never forgiven him for his treatment of Ellie. The guilt Douglas should have felt transferred to Braden, and he’d done everything he could to make sure her life was easier, and that she knew he cared. Giving her the flat meant she could concentrate on that PhD she was studying for. Braden might think the PhD impractical, but it made her happy, and in the end that was all that mattered. He also liked having her close to the estate agency which was on Dundas Street. Anytime he was in the area, which was more often than not, he could drop by to see Els. Braden was lucky to call Ellie not only his sister, but one of his closest friends, and it was nice to escape the stress of his business life at least for ten minutes when he stopped by for a coffee with her.

Braden decided he’d get the cab driver to stop at the top of Dublin Street, burl around and come back toward Dundas Street. It would be easier to drop him off first but it was ingrained in him to never let a woman pay for anything, so he’d drop off the unexpected passenger so he could pay the fare.

“Thanks I guess,” the woman answered from his left, the words sardonic. It wasn’t the tone that drew his attention. It was the husky, sexy voice and the American accent.

Glancing in interest at her, Braden almost did a double take. She was attractive. Very. So busy checking her out he asked somewhat stupidly, “You’re an American?”

She turned to him and as soon as their eyes met Braden felt his blood heat with the impact. Jesus fucking Christ. Intelligent, exotic, feline gray eyes appraised him as she tucked a loose strand of dark-blonde hair behind her ear. Her hair was long and pulled back in a pony-tail, giving him an unhindered view of a graceful neck and an arresting face. For some reason he couldn’t look away.

Watching her eyes drop to his body, drinking him in, Braden was intrigued. He was used to women looking at him. He was a big guy and he worked out and he’d had no complaints from women. He wasn’t, however, used to a woman appearing so consternated by the fact that she was checking him out. He raised an eyebrow, curious about her.

“Yeah, I’m American.”

That voice. He shifted in his seat. She really did have the sexiest voice he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear it again. “Just visiting?” Braden murmured.

“Nope.”

“Then you’re a student?”

Whatever she heard in his tone it made her tense. Braden envied her casual, light clothing in this heat and thanked God for throwing her in his path on a day so hot in Scotland it had caused the American to wear those tiny shorts.

True, she wasn’t his usual type. Most of his girlfriends, including his current girlfriend Holly, and his ex-wife Analise, were tall, slender platinum blondes. The American was the opposite of every woman he’d ever dated.

And yet… she was beyond appealing.

She had surprisingly large breasts for such a delicately built woman—big boobs, wee waist, and another surprise were those gorgeous legs of hers. They were shapely and long despite her small stature. Hot blood rushed southwards.

Bloody Nora.

When Braden finally dragged his eyes up to her expressive face he noted the raised eyebrow. He’d been caught eating her up and she did not look impressed. Amused, he grinned at her. Usually this would incur a responding grin. Instead the brat rolled her eyes at him.

“I was a student,” she answered, and Braden’s ears warmed to the purr of her dulcet voice. “I live here. Dual citizenship.”

“You’re part Scottish?”

She gave him a barely-there nod and seemed intent to not look at him. He smiled inwardly, feeling anticipation he hadn’t felt in a while, and definitely not over a woman. It was the anticipation of a challenge. Women came quite easily to him and it certainly made life less difficult. Life was stressful enough in business. But he couldn’t argue with what this strange, inexplicable feeling toward the American.

He’d never felt instant attraction like it.

Braden eyed her and grew even more dangerously hot at the idea of turning that willful glint in her stunning eyes soft with need as he explored every inch of her.

He shifted in his seat again, disappointment settling over him when he belatedly remembered he was seeing someone else. Since he wasn’t the kind of man to ask for another woman’s number while he was in a relationship that meant he’d have to ignore whatever was between him and the American.

Bugger.

The timing was fucked.

He couldn’t have her. Eyeing her mouth, despite knowing that conversation—or anything—was pointless, he found himself asking, “What do you do now that you’ve graduated?”

She shot him a look out of the corner of her eyes and it seemed to hold more than a hint of disdain. “What do you do? I mean, when you’re not manhandling women into cabs?”

It occurred to Braden that a man knew he was really bored with life when he got a kick out of a woman’s condescension. “What do you think I do?”

“I’m thinking lawyer. Answering questions with questions, manhandling…”

“I’m not a lawyer. But you could be. I seemed to recall a question answered with a question. And that,” he gestured to her full mouth, wondering how she’d taste, “That’s a definite smirk.” His voice was thick with want and he knew she heard it in the way her eyes flared as their gazes met.

Yeah, she felt the heat too.

The air in the cab was suddenly heavy with sexual tension. An undeniable, incredible electricity that Braden really fucking wanted to explore.

As awful as it was, he was cursing the existence of Holly, his current girlfriend, to hell in that moment. What he had with Holly wasn’t special. It was just fun. But it was exclusive.

Shit.

The American not only looked away but seemed to deliberately lean her whole body away from him as she stared out at the passing traffic. As he watched her attempt to create a distance between them with silence, his eyes caressed the sharp sweep of her jawline and the smoothness of her olive skin. She had great skin. Skin that told of her age, and it suddenly occurred to him that the American was quite young, probably ages with Ellie. He hadn’t realized at first because she had seemed attractively self-possessed.

Now she seemed uncomfortable… perhaps inexperienced?

It should have put him off.

It didn’t.

Whoever she was, however she was, Braden was intrigued.

He wanted to work her out.

“Are you shy?” He asked trying not to sound like a condescending prick.

She turned to him with a bemused smile. “Excuse me?”

Not shy then. He eyed her carefully. She wasn’t as easy to read as he’d first thought. He liked that. “Are you shy?” he repeated to be polite, already knowing the answer to that question was no. She was something, but it wasn’t shy.

“Why would you think that?”

He decided to see just how self-possessed she really was. “Most women would be taking advantage of my imprisonment in the taxi with them—chew my ear off, shove their phone number in my face…as well as other things.” His eyes instantly lowered to her lush breasts, letting her know he thought they were well worthy of the attention.

Anticipating either a blush or a scowl when he drew his eyes back to her face, Braden was taken aback to find her grinning at him. Fuck. Her smile hit him with more of an impact than her sexy body. She had one helluva sweet smile. “Wow, you really think a lot of yourself.”

He grinned back. “I’m just speaking from experience.”

“Well, I’m not the kind of girl who hands out her number to a guy she just met.”

Even though he couldn’t ask for her number he was immediately disappointed by her answer. He’d begun building an idea of who she was in his head and prudish girl next door was definitely not it. “Ahh,” he looked away. “You’re a no-sex-until-the-third-date, marriage-and-babies kind of woman.” Not exactly his type.

“No, no, and no,” she answered, seeming affronted by the idea. So affronted in fact that he suddenly wondered if the opposite was true. Was he in the presence of that rare creature? A woman afraid of commitment?

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“I’m not giving you my number.”

Unfortunately Braden couldn’t seduce her number out of her. “I didn’t ask for it. And even if I wanted it, I wouldn’t ask for it.” Fucking lie. “I have a girlfriend.” Unfortunately, true. Braden mentally slapped himself across the head for that ungentlemanly thought. Holly was a good girl and deserved better than that.

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“I have a girlfriend, but I’m not blind. Just because I can’t do anything doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to look.” A crying shame if you asked him. He wanted to look. He wanted to look past the cynical eyes and through the sweet smile and find out which one of them was her. Maybe she was both. Maybe she was neither. He didn’t know. At all. And he wanted to. Jesus—

“Here’s good, thanks.”

What? His fascination with her mystery was suddenly brought to an abrupt halt by her direction to the driver. They weren’t at Dublin Street yet. They still had… Braden looked outside. They were at Queen Street Gardens, only seconds from her destination. And why was he panicking? She was off limits.

The driver pulled up to the curb and she handed him fare and reached for the door.

“Wait,” Braden found himself saying.

She turned to him, her expression impatient. “What?”

Braden sensed he had seconds here. He could either tell her to take her money back and offer to pay for the entire cab fare as he intended. Or he could ask her the one thing that had been itching at him since they met.

“Do you have a name?”

She smiled and Braden automatically found himself smiling with her. “Actually, I have two.”

What?

She jumped out of the cab and despite the loss of her he found myself chuckling at her cool reply.

It was his own fault. He’d asked a smart woman the wrong question.

Just as abruptly as she’d left him, Braden’s amusement fled. He realized he’d probably never see her again. Now that really was a crying shame. His father was right. His intuition was what made him a successful businessman, and his intuition was telling him he’d just let a great opportunity pass him by.

Swallowing his disappointment, Braden directed the cabbie to turnabout and head toward his meeting… in an even worse fucking mood than he’d started out in.

Contact Samantha Young

Author social media: Twitter, Instagram, Facebook

Cover Reveal ~ Yesterday’s Tomorrow by M. E. Montgomery

Yesterday’s Tomorrows by M.E. Montgomery has a brand new cover and it’s GORGEOUS!

“We fell in love with her characters and her storytelling in this beautiful story about embracing life, self-discovery, seizing second chances and not letting your mistakes and guilt define you.” – Totally Booked Blog

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2MZUwWF
iBooks: http://apple.co/2oYl2Tf
B&N: http://bit.ly/2oogVRS
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2oE9vFg

If growing up in her home wasn’t enough to shatter Madelyn Stone’s illusions of happily ever after, then serving several years behind bars certainly was. Her crime? Believing in family and growing up on the wrong side of the tracks. She’s learned the hard way that there is no such thing as a prince who’ll ride in and save the day, and she pledges never to trust anyone again. Never.

Between a career in the Marines and plans to marry his childhood sweetheart, Holten Andrews had his future all mapped out…until life took an unexpected, heart-ripping turn. Now he’s moved on with a new career in law, as well as vowing to confine women to one of three categories: family, professional, and f*ckable. No blurring the lines. Ever.

Love is the last thing on Maddy’s mind as she attempts to forge a new path out of the wreckage of her life. Holt’s sense of loyalty is rocked when he’s blindsided by feelings for a woman he would normally condemn. When revelations from Maddy’s past threaten her safety, Maddy has to put her faith in Holt, while Holt fights not to lose the one woman who’s blurred all of his lines. Every choice they make will figure into whether or not they can make yesterday’s dreams still come true tomorrow.

About the Author:
M.E. Montgomery has been an avid reader her entire life, and after falling in love with so many characters created by other authors, a new one began to form in her head. With the support of her family, she decided to to write it.

She is the homework queen to her four school aged children who think she is a genius in math, science, history and spelling. Fortunately, her biology and elementary school teaching background help her to keep up the expert façade, at least for now.

Although born and raised in the Washington DC metro area, she has considered many places to be called home since she left to attend college in North Carolina. She is a proud Navy wife, setting up a home wherever the Navy sends her husband. When she’s not reading or writing, she loves to go camping with her family, drink wine on the deck, and be swept off to romantic getaways.

Author Links:
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1M9BJ0a
Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/h0p7r4
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1QPADsI
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1UiCavM
Twitter: https://twitter.com/me_montgomery

Preorder Alert! Shot On Goal by Jami Davenport!

These two professional skaters are about to meet their match.
Shot on Goal by Jami Davenport is releasing on September 12th!

When you’re at the top, there’s nowhere to go but down.

Two talented skaters. Two bright futures. Two shining stars. One ruined by a career-ending scandal and another by a father’s ruthless ambition.

She was the darling of the winter games, winning a bronze in pairs figure skating one week after losing both parents in a car accident.

He was the future of the Sockeyes hockey team crowned the best young player in the league and heir-apparent to the hockey throne once occupied by his father.

Together they’re fire and ice, and when things get that hot, they melt. Can these two broken souls find comfort and courage in each other’s arms or will they find only pain and regret?

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author Jami Davenport writes sexy contemporary and sports romances, including her two new indie endeavors: the Game On in Seattle Series and the Madrona Island Series. Jami’s new releases consistently rank in the top fifty on the sports romance and sports genre lists on Amazon, and she has hit the Amazon top hundred authors list in both contemporary romance and genre fiction multiple times. Jami ranked Number Seven on Kobo’s Top Ten Most Completed Authors, an honor bestowed on the year’s “most engaging” authors based on an average page completion rate by their readers.
Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her Green Beret-turned-plumber husband, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.
Jami works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. She’s a lifetime Seahawks and Mariners fan and is waiting for the day professional hockey comes to Seattle. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, a common setting in her books. In her opinion, it’s the most beautiful place on earth.

Connect with Jami!
Subscribe to my newsletter to receive a free novel and be notified of new releases, special sales, and contests: http://eepurl.com/LpfaL
Website Address: http://www.jamidavenport.com
Twitter Address: @jamidavenport
Facebook Address: http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenport
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jamidavenport/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1637218.Jami_Davenport

Sale Alert ~ Whiskey Secrets by Carrie Ann Ryan is just 99 cents!

 

WHISKEY SECRETS by Carrie Ann Ryan is on sale for .99c for a limited time! Pick up your copy of this sexy first installment in a Montgomery Ink spin-off series!

 

 

About WHISKEY SECRETS (Whiskey and Lies #1)

Sparks fly between a former cop-turned-bartender and his new innkeeper in the first installment of a Montgomery Ink spin-off series from NYT Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan.

Dare Collins is a man who knows his whiskey and women—or at least that’s what he tells himself. When his family decides to hire on a new innkeeper for the inn above his bar and restaurant, he’s more than reluctant. Especially when he meets the new hire. But he’ll soon find that he has no choice but to work with this city girl and accept her new ideas and the burning attraction between them.

Kenzie Owens left her old life and an abusive relationship behind her—or so she thought. She figures she’ll be safe in Whiskey, Pennsylvania but after one look at her new boss, Dare Collins, she might still be in danger, or at least her heart. And when her past catches up with her despite her attempts to avoid it, it’s more than her heart on the line. This time, it might mean her life.

Get your hands on WHISKEY SECRETS for .99c now!

✦Amazon http://amzn.to/2oIB7KT
✦iBooks http://apple.co/2j4i3qE
✦Barnes & Noble http://bit.ly/2tkoES5
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/2hLUb63
✦Google Play http://bit.ly/2stO9gP
✦Amazon Paperback http://amzn.to/2nHuho9

 

 

Get a sneak peek of WHISKEY SECRETS:

Once again, Kenzie had no idea if she was making the smartest of moves, but she wasn’t about to back down now. Though it was September, the weather fluctuated between stifling humid and hot to downright chilly. Right now, it was a pleasant day where she didn’t feel like she was walking through a wall of humidity, nor did she need a jacket. Between that and the bright sun and tiny dots of clouds above her, it was a pretty nice afternoon.

“This is the main drag for the town.” Dare gestured at the street. “It’s pretty much a straight line except for one part where it curves over the bridge. The creek below that only starts pumping real good after a storm or right when the run-off from the mountains begins to melt. Other than that, it’s a decent trickle that tourists like for selfies.”

As Kenzie herself had taken a selfie in front of the creek for her personal album of memories, she ignored the humor in his voice at the comment. She’d told herself she would start taking more photos and enjoy where she was and who she was now that she was free of everything that had held her back for so long.

“It’s a beautiful town,” she said simply, and she was being honest about that. Everyone took great care of their buildings and businesses. There were coffee shops, teahouses, bakeries, restaurants, antique shops, clothing stores, and a couple dozen other shops that catered to practically every need. Everything was unique and could only be found in Whiskey.

And now, she was part of it.

“It’s home.” Apparently, Dare wasn’t a man of many words today.

They walked another block in easy silence, and Kenzie sighed. She hated feeling awkward.

“So, have you always lived here?”

He looked down at her and studied her face as they waited at the crosswalk. “No. I lived in Philly for a few years.”

“Big city,” she said dryly then immediately regretted it. Weren’t they supposed to be friends now? Or at least friendly?

He snorted before stuffing his hands into his pockets. She couldn’t help but notice the way his forearms tightened at the movement. She shouldn’t be noticing the man’s arms, damn it. Nor should she think forearms were sexy.

She’d come to Whiskey for herself, and had sworn off men and relationships. That meant no more looking at Dare Collins’ arms and the way he filled out his jeans.

“Sorry about that. Like I said, I had a rough night and took it out on you.”

“You already apologized. Let’s get back to the bar. I know you have to work, and I have paperwork to go over.”

His jaw tightened as he studied her. “Starting already?”

She raised her chin and then cursed herself for doing so yet again in front of this man. He set her on edge, and she wasn’t sure if it was because they kept bumping heads or because she found him attractive when she didn’t want to.

“I’m here to help your parents, Dare, and to do a job.”

“I know you are.” He turned away from her, giving her his profile. “And I’m glad my parents are taking a step back to actually try and relax. I’m just not a fan of change. Hell, I hate it, and I hate surprises even more.”

That, she could totally understand. “I hate surprises, too. As for change? Well, sometimes, change is good.” She was living proof of that, wasn’t she?

“That’s true enough, but it doesn’t mean I’m quick to like it.” He stared at her, and she blinked at the intensity. There was something there, she thought, some heat she couldn’t quite name, and it worried her. Was he attracted to her? Or was that flare because she represented that change he wasn’t ready for?

Either way, it didn’t matter; thinking too hard along those lines when it came to Dare wasn’t something she could do.

“But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” Dare continued. “As for your new job? I’ll be around if you need help. I don’t know everything about the inn since I have my own two business to handle, but I can probably at least point you in the right direction. And if you’re looking for upgrades like you mentioned? Talk to Loch. I know he’s family, but he’s damn good at handyman work and carpentry when he puts his mind to it. He hasn’t done much on the inn since our parents weren’t ready to update yet, but Loch’s good at what he does.”

Surprised, she found herself nodding. She’d already heard from her new employers about Loch and how he could help, and she was glad to know that the family stood together no matter what. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that, Red.”

She rolled her eyes. “My name’s Kenzie.”

“I know. I like Red too, though. Plus, it’s fun to see you get all rattled when I call you that.”

And she found this man attractive? She was seriously losing it. It must just be the nonexistent heat talking. Once she was fully immersed in her new job and life, she wouldn’t be thinking about Dare and those sexy forearms of his again.

At least, she hoped.

 

See the WHISKEY SECRETS Trailer:

 

 

 

About Carrie Ann Ryan

Carrie Ann Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance. Her works include the Montgomery Ink, Redwood Pack, Talon Pack, and Gallagher Brothers series, which have sold over 2.0 million books worldwide. She started writing while in graduate school for her advanced degree in chemistry and hasn’t stopped since. Carrie Ann has written over fifty novels and novellas with more in the works. When she’s not writing about bearded tattooed men or alpha wolves that need to find their mates, she’s reading as much as she can and exploring the world of baking and gourmet cooking.

Website Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest

Freebie Alert ~ All The Right Places by Jenna Sutton

Jenna Sutton’s ALL THE RIGHT PLACES is available now for free! Find out more about it below and pick up your copy today!

 

About ALL THE RIGHT PLACES

The first in a brand new contemporary romance series starring the men and women who are determined to keep the billion-dollar denim empire, Riley O’Brien & Co, on top, but aren’t about to let business stand in the way of love…

Amelia Winger is a small-town girl with big dreams of becoming a successful designer. So when she gets a gig designing accessories for denim empire Riley O’Brien & Co., it’s a dream come true. Amelia can handle the demanding job, but she isn’t quite prepared for sexy CEO Quinn O’Brien. She’s doing her best to keep things professional, but the attraction sparking between them makes it personal. And so does the secret project she’s working on behind his back…

Quinn’s not interested in the new accessories, but he is interested in the woman designing them. Amelia is smart, sexy, and talented, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her since they met. Mixing business and pleasure isn’t wise, but that doesn’t stop him from coming up with excuses to spend time with her. He thinks he understands the risk he’s taking when he gets involved with Amelia. But he doesn’t know he’s risking a lot more than his heart.

Get your hands on ALL THE RIGHT PLACES for free:

✦Amazon http://bit.ly/rightplacesamzus
✦iBooks http://bit.ly/rightplacesibooks
✦Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/rightplacesbn
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/rightplaceskobo

 

 Jenna Sutton’s Riley O’Brien & Co series has been re-released with gorgeous new covers at lower prices – check out more about this sexy, fun contemporary romance series below!

 

About COMING APART AT THE SEAMS

From the author of All the Right Places, a sweet and sexy romance about finding the right words and the perfect fit…

Teagan O’Brien, heiress to the Riley O’Brien & Co. denim empire, is anything but a spoiled rich girl. She’s worked hard to secure her place in the family business and can hold her own, in and out of the office. Only one man has ever been able to get under her skin—sexy football star Nick Priest. Years ago they crossed the line from friends to lovers, but he left her heartbroken. Since then, she’s been determined to keep him at arm’s length—no matter how tempting he looks in his jeans…

Nick has fortune, fame, and looks that make most women hot and bothered. But he doesn’t have the woman he really wants. He knows he screwed up when he walked away from Teagan, and now that he has a second chance, he’ll do whatever it takes to win her over—no matter how tongue-tied he gets…

Get your hands on COMING APART AT THE SEAMS

✦Amazon http://bit.ly/comingapartamzus
✦iBooks http://bit.ly/comingapartibooks
✦Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/comingapartbn
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/comingapartkobo

 

About HANGING BY A THREAD

Love is not one size fits all…

Bebe Banerjee’s genius IQ didn’t stop her from doing something stupid: agreeing to a sham engagement in exchange for a free ride to Harvard Law. And now, her fake fiancé is trying to blackmail her into a real marriage. While she can’t choose her future husband, she can choose her first lover. But she never imagined that man would be Cal O’Brien, the handsome heir to the Riley O’Brien & Co. denim empire…

Although Cal has always been fascinated by Bebe’s brilliant mind and beautiful eyes, he’s never pursued her. She can’t stand the sight of him, and every time they’re in the same room, they end up trading insults. Yet when he finds out about Bebe’s bold plan, he makes his move, unaware of her upcoming nuptials. He promises to make her firsts unforgettable, but he doesn’t know how hard it will be to forget her when their arrangement ends.

Get your hands on HANGING BY A THREAD

✦Amazon http://bit.ly/hangingamzus
✦iBooks http://bit.ly/hangingibooks
✦Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/hangingbn
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/hangingkobo

 

About Jenna Sutton

Jenna Sutton is a former award-winning journalist who traded fact for fiction when she began writing novels. Surprisingly, the research she conducted for her articles provided a lot of inspiration for her books. She’s the author of the Riley O’Brien & Co. romances and the new Trinity Distillery series. Although Jenna calls Texas home, more often than not, she’s somewhere else. Her love’s job takes him all over the country, and she tags along, just like a groupie follows her favorite band.

You can find out more about Jenna and her work on her website http://www.jennasutton.com. Sign up for her newsletter at http://bit.ly/1K8MaCH to access the latest news and monthly contests.

Website Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Instagram | BookBub | Amazon | Goodreads