Kindle Unlimited. And ONLY $.99 for a limited time only! The new STANDALONE
romantic comedy from the New York Times Bestselling author of THAT MAN and
three cardinal rules:
business with pleasure
Never let a
woman spend the night.
a woman with kids.
me out. God only knows how many this baby daddy has. Man, what was I thinking
when I was in college? Me, Drake Hanson. God’s gift to women. Aka Donor 5262.
It was a piece of cake and fifteen hundred dollars a month for my deposits (in
sperm bank speak) came in handy. Wank, bank, and go. I just didn’t think about
the consequences. One day, some kid is going to call me Daddy and I’m going to
get hit up for child support. Big time.
father is pressuring me to settle down because the investor who’s looking to
acquire his animation company doesn’t want a player running a family-oriented
business. Just in time, she came along. The temp. Dee Walker. The minute the
hot as sin brunette with her killer curves and those chocolate brown eyes
stepped foot in my office and saved me from an ugly disaster with her magic
hands, I wanted her to be mine. Except she’s totally off limits. And there’s
someone else she loves with all her heart and soul that I can’t replace.
Can my temp
become my forever before my past catches up with me? I’m willing to break all
With Tyson skating on her own close to the railing and Drake by her side, the twosome skated over to me.
“Mommy, skating is SO much fun! You should try it!”
“She’s right,” Drake chimed in.
“I’m afraid I’ll fall.”
“But, Mommy, you have a big butt so it won’t hurt.”
Mortification raced through me. I felt myself turning as red as a beet. Kids say the darndest things, right? Wrong! My sassy almost six-year-old had no filter.
Drake broke out into hysterical laughter.
I clenched my fists. I wanted to punch him. “It’s not funny.”
“Dee, you have a great butt. Now, get your ass on the ice.”
“C’mon, Mommy,” Ty pleaded. “Please, pretty please with a cherry on top.”
Drake’s laughter let up. “Mighty, why don’t you take a spin around the rink? You’re ready to skate all by yourself. Stay close to the railing and hold on to it if you have to.”
“Yay!” On my next breath, she took off. My breath caught in my throat, but she seemed to be managing just fine.
Drake stayed behind. All that separated us was the waist-high railing. He leaned into me. His sparkling blue eyes flickered with a mixture of determination and mischief while his warm breath heated my cheeks. His hands tugged playfully at the ends of my wool plaid scarf.
“Aren’t you going to skate with Tyson?”
He glanced in her direction. She was already halfway around the rink. “She’s doing just fine by herself. She’s a total natural. She reminds me of myself at that age. I took, like her, to the ice like a penguin.”
“But what if she falls?”
He shrugged. “She’ll get up.” He tugged again at my scarf. “C’mon, Dee, get your big beautiful butt on the ice.”
“That does it.”
My eyes stayed on him as he skated with amazing grace and speed to the entrance of the rink, stormed off the ice, and marched my way. In a single swoop, he hauled me over his shoulders.
“What the hell are you doing, Drake?”
“Getting you on the ice,” he responded, marching back to the entrance, one hand gripping me right below my ass.
“Put me down!” I began to kick my feet in protest.
“Behave! And stop kicking. Skate blades are sharp and can be very dangerous. I don’t want you to cut off my dick. I’d like to keep it intact. And the same with my balls.”
Rage filled every bone in my body. The asshole! He’d made me his captive like some kind of caveman. “Stop,” I shrieked at the top of my lungs as he marched us back on the ice and then raced around the rink at breakneck speed. We quickly caught up with Tyson.
“Hi, Mommy!” she yelled out as we flew by. I could hear her giggling as the whooshing sound of Drake’s skates sung in my ears.
Speeding around the ice, draped over Drake’s shoulder, I was getting dizzy. My arms hung loose like a ragdoll’s within groping distance of his perfect buns of steel. Blood rushed to my head. I’d had enough.
“Put me down!” I breathed out.
“Are you ready to stop acting like a brat?”
“I am not a brat!”
Without warning, he swatted my ass with his free hand. The slap stung straight through my thick leggings, but the incendiary sting strangely turned me on. A barrage of tingles blazed through me, clustering between my inner thighs.
“Put me down,” I yelled again.
He didn’t say a thing. Coming to a braking halt that left a skid mark on the ice, he set me on my feet. Standing behind me, he kept his hands anchored on my waist to keep me balanced. I stood as frozen as the ice, hoping he’d never let me go. Partly because I was nervous as shit. And mostly because it felt so good to have his hands touching me. The sparks coursing through my body were definitely not going to help with skating.
“Okay, I’m going to teach you how to skate. Trust me, you’re going to be the next Dorothy Hamill.”
I couldn’t help a nervous laugh. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”
He laughed his sexy laugh. “Think again.”
“Seriously, Drake, I don’t think I can do this.”
“Come on. If your five-year-old daughter can, so can you.”
My eyes darted to Tyson, who was circling around the rink. Her strokes were a little awkward, but she was definitely skating. And doing it well.
“Tyson is fearless,” I countered.
“What are you afraid of?” he breathed into my ear. The warmth of his breath sent a chill down my spine.
“Of falling.” Of falling for you.
“You won’t. I’ve got you. Now push off with one foot and then the other.”
Trembling, I did what he asked. My legs wobbled, but I moved three feet forward. A small victory on the slippery ice.
“Nice. Now do it again. But this time push from your hips, not your knees.”
“Okay,” I stammered. I did as he asked and noticed how much steadier and more powerful my strokes were. Still holding me firmly, he asked me to repeat the movements and I did so several more times. I’d probably skated a total of twenty feet.
“You’re doing great!” He let go of me with one hand.
Gah! Don’t let go of me.
And then he tugged at my ponytail before repositioning himself so that we were side by side. He laced his fingers with mine. My heart pounding, I squeezed his hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice as contorted as my face.
“What does it look like? I’m holding your hand. We’re going to skate around the rink.”
“No, I’m not ready for this!” I protested. “I want to get off the ice.”
“Fine. You can get off by yourself. I’m going for a spin. See ya.”
To my utter horror, he let go of my hand and skirted off—skating backward, no less, the damn showoff, facing me with a Cheshire grin plastered on his face.
“Please, Drake,” I begged.
My begging only made his grin grow bigger. “Please what?”
“Please don’t leave me.” I’m not sure if he heard me because my voice was so shaky and small.
His grin morphed into a wicked smile, and in a few frantic heartbeats, he was again by my side. His fingers entwined with mine once more. How warm his hand felt next to my cold and clammy one. He gave my hand a little squeeze.
“I’m never going to leave you, D-baby.”
My heart jumped. He called me baby. He probably called every girl that, but the way he said it so tenderly made me think I was the first. Following his lead, I began to skate with more confidence. Loving every minute of our togetherness.
For about the next five or so minutes, we circled the rink, Drake holding my hand, me improving with each stroke. Once or twice I turned to look at him, and somehow at those moments, his gaze met mine. No words were spoken. Just silent smiles.
Midway around the rink, my baby called out to me. “Look, Mommy. No hands!”
Half elated, half fearful, I craned my head in her direction, losing focus on my strokes. Suddenly, one of my blades caught with Drake’s and my heart lurched in my chest at that horrible sensation that I—we?—were taking a tumble. “Shit,” I heard Drake mumble as the inevitable happened. On my next rapid heartbeat, I was flat on my back on the ice and he was splayed on top of me. We were a breath apart, his heart beating against mine. The warmth of his body caging mine was a sharp contrast to the cold ice beneath me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, the heat of his breath warming my cheeks.
I gazed at his face. His lips were parted, his eyes smoldering. The heat of his body was melting the ice beneath me. Melting the distance that separated us.
The weight of Drake’s body kept me from moving. “Can you help me up?”
“Not yet. I like being on top of you.”
I like you on top too. “It can’t be that hard—”
“Yeah, it is that hard. Very hard.” He rocked his hips against me.
Gah! It was hard. Very, very hard.
His eyes blazing into mine, he traced my lips with his fingertip and then leaned in closer until I could practically taste his minty breath. I could feel my heart pounding, hear my breathing grow labored. My lips parted, partly because I needed to get oxygen into my lungs and partly because I wanted him to devour them. I wanted him to kiss me so badly I could scream. As his lips were about to touchdown, a little voice caused us both to jolt. Tyson.
Giggling, she skated up to us. “You guys look so funny!”
Yes, we were a tangled pile of arms and legs. But it was more than just the physical. Our emotions were all tangled up too.
“I’m hungry,” said my little girl.
Drake’s eyes burned into mine. “Me too.”
“Me three.” I’d never hungered for a man as much as I did for my new boss, Drake Hanson.
I should have felt relieved that Tyson didn’t catch us kissing, but instead I felt bereft.
I am a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Los Angeles with her Prince Charming-ish husband, twin college-bound princesses, and a bevy of royal pain-in-the-butt pets. A former executive in the entertainment industry with a prestigious Humanitas Prize for promoting human dignity and freedom to my credit, I gave up playing with Barbies a long time ago, but I still enjoy playing with toys with my hubby. While I write in my PJs, I love to get dressed up and pretend I’m Hollywood royalty. My steamy stories feature characters that will make you laugh, cry, and swoon and stay in your heart forever. They’re often inspired by my past life.
To learn about my new releases, sales, and giveaways, please sign up for my newsletter and follow me on social media. I love to hear from my readers.
We’re heading back to Temperance Falls for a second chance at love…
She’s ready to move on
High school reunions are supposed to be fun. Unfortunately, mine starts with a storm that traps me in a house with my newly ex-boyfriend…and his hot-as-sin stepbrother. Luke kept in touch with me over the years, but not like this. Not with his hands, his fingers…his mouth. If my ex finds out, it’s more than just a friendship on the line. I could destroy a family.
He’s done holding back
Hannah’s been off-limits for twelve long years, ever since my stepbrother swooped in and claimed her before I could. As if coveting from afar isn’t bad enough, now I have to suffer through our ten-year reunion watching them together. But things aren’t as perfect in paradise as it would seem. One overheard conversation between them, and I’m ready to throw caution to the wind. If my stepbrother can’t make her scream, I’m more than happy to get the job done.
London Hale’s books can be read in any order or as standalones. Looking for something quick, filthy, and taboo with a guaranteed HEA and no cheating? The couples of Temperance Falls deliver.
About London: London Hale is the combined pen name of writing besties Ellis Leigh and Brighton Walsh. Between them, they’ve published more than thirty books in the contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and romantic suspense genres. Ellis is a USA Today bestselling author who loves coffee, thinks green Skittles are the best, and prefers to stay in every weekend. Brighton is multi-published with Berkley, St. Martin’s Press, and Carina Press. She hates coffee, thinks green Skittles are the work of the devil, and has never heard of a party she didn’t want to attend. Don’t ask how they became such good friends or work so well together—they still haven’t figured it out themselves.
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Look up Landon Roderick, that boy from childhood whom I’d never been able to forget—even though he so easily forgot about me—and call him.
Then again, anything sounds like a good idea when you’ve had a little too much wine before bed, right? It was supposed to be just a quick, meaningless, prank call. Instead, I went off on him—unloading thirteen years of pent-up emotions.
I didn’t think he’d call me back.
I certainly could never have anticipated the weeks of sexually tense phone conversations that followed as I got to know the man he’d become.
Turned out, Landon had never really forgotten me, either. That special connection we had was still there. I opened up to him, but there were also things about me he didn’t know. And he had his own secrets.
Over the countless hours we talked on the phone, I wondered what would happen if we actually saw each other. One night, I did something impulsive again. Only this time, I went to the airport and booked a ticket to California. We were about to find out if one phone call could bring two lost souls together or if my drunk dial really was all just a big mistake.
After that evening, I hadn’t heard back from him for a few days.
Then, one night, a text came in from the same phone number I recognized as Landon’s. It was the first time he’d texted me.
I looked down to find he’d sent a photo.
It was a heavily tatted man set against the backdrop of the ocean at sunset. Oh, my. It was him—a selfie.
Fuck. Me. He was beautiful.
I wouldn’t have even known it was Landon were it not for the blue eyes I recognized instantly. The shaggy, caramel hair I remembered from the past was now a darker shade of brown and shorter, cropped closer to his head. His arms and his chest were inked, his body so perfect that if I squinted, it almost resembled carved stone.
I couldn’t stop looking at him. My eyes wanted nothing more than to explore the ridges and valleys of his stunning body.
Was this a cruel joke?
This was not Landon!
But, it was.
With my thumb and middle finger, I kept zooming in and out, examining the details of the ink across his chest and on his arms. There was really nothing sexier than a guy with perfect arms and a full sleeve tattoo.
Even though his lips seemed fuller than I recalled, they still curved into a familiar grin that oozed confidence. The eyes and that smile were the only traces of the boy I remembered. I wished I could’ve leapt through the screen to smell him, touch him.
“Hi, Landon,” I whispered, for a brief moment talking to the boy inside, not the man in front of me.
This Landon was the polar opposite of the Ivy League yuppie image previously in my head. The only thing the man pictured might have majored in was badassery. He looked like a rockstar, a rule breaker, displaying a sense of arousing danger—someone who must have had women from all walks of life drooling over him for the sheer fact that either they couldn’t have him or shouldn’t have him. It suddenly became clear why, as he’d alluded to, a woman might have been begging him for sex. That made me wonder if he had any secret tattoos in spots I wasn’t allowed to see.
A fire was burning inside of me, and I knew it was my crush exploding into a full-blown obsession.
A self-conscious feeling came over me. If I was scared to show him a picture of myself before, now I was really hesitant.
The message that went along with the photo simply read:
Now show me you.
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author of thirteen novels. With over a million books sold, her titles have placed on the New York Times Bestseller list sixteen times. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 12-year-old girl with autism (the inspiration for the character Callie in Gemini) and a 10-year-old boy. Penelope, her husband, and kids reside in Rhode Island.
Have you picked up the SIGHT UNSEEN anthology? It features five intriguing, sexy, and surprising stories from five incredible authors – but you don’t know who wrote which story – YET. The reveal is coming soon, but in the mean time, we’re sharing the opening of each of the five stories, one per week! Check it out below and pick up your copy now!
About SIGHT UNSEEN
What stories would you tell if you could? Where would your mind take you, if you let it? Five of the top voices in romance dare you to explore the most distant corners of their imaginations as they test the limits of storytelling and break the boundaries of what even they thought possible, teasing and tormenting you shamelessly as they go.
But there’s a twist—the author of each story is a secret at the time of release. They’re each plumbing the depths of the human heart and mind in ways they’ve never attempted before. Taking you high, bringing you low, until you will be hardpressed to guess who wrote what. Can you tell? Want us to?
Too bad our lips are sealed . . . for now.
Lost That Feeling
Alma knew who she was, once—that is, before she erased her memory with a spell. Some, like the guards at the prison in which she’s held, say that she was a thief, a murderer.
Others say she was a hero. Like Driss, the man who rescues her. He claims to be a friend. He’s certainly handsome. And charming. And brave. In a word: perfect.
That’s the problem. If he’s perfect and she’s a hero, how did she end up in prison with a seven-year hole in her memory to begin with?
A Clear View of You
As a child, Kate had one dream: to escape her mother’s deluded hippie commune and live in the real world, where mature adults know that magic isn’t real. But the real world also has its downsides—like rent, student loans, and a cutthroat job market.
Happily, Kate is uniquely qualified for one in-demand position: psychic. Of course, she’s as fake as the rest of them, but nobody plays a fortune-teller as convincingly as a girl raised by a would-be witch. If only Kate’s newest client weren’t so perceptive . . . and attractive. If only crystal balls didn’t have the habit of lighting up in his presence.
Magic isn’t real, right? Kate is about to find out otherwise . . .
Brad White would be an ordinary accountant with an unrequited crush except for two things: he works for a criminal motorcycle club, and he’s in love with the club president’s daughter. When she discovers the truth about the family business, Brad has to move beyond ordinary and put his life on the line to keep her safe.
Wren Masters, unlike everyone else in her graduating class, chose to stay in Fallow, Montana because, also unlike everyone else, she loves it. But when she finds out her father’s club is running drugs, her family and world crumble. She and Brad risk everything to uncover the truth . . . and begin a scorching affair.
As the conspiracy—and their feelings—deepen, Brad and Wren must choose between family and justice. And neither seems to include a future for them.
Chariot of Desire
CJ Crespo, drummer for the once wildly popular rock band Donjon, has always had a thing for frontman Donny Times. They spent the seventies getting high together, making music together, self-destructing together. But her qualms about ruining a creative partnership with sex kept them from ever hooking up. Now, Donny’s conversion to a bizarre fringe religion that won’t allow him to engage in—or even sing about—sex, drugs, or other “sins” threatens to tear Donjon apart.
As the band struggles to embrace a new decade and a new Donny, CJ must decide where she belongs: by Donny’s side, even if he can’t ever love her? Or out there making her own music, away from a man who gives and takes in equal measures?
The Heart is a Universe
On the remote planet of Pax Cara lies the greatest secret of the universe. Once every generation, the inhabitants must offer up an exceptional young person—the Chosen One—who sacrifices his or her own life for the sake of that secret, and the planet itself.
However, Vitalis, the current Chosen One, is desperate to free herself from the yoke of destiny. An unexpected invitation to an aristocratic summit seems to be the perfect opportunity for escape. But almost as soon as she arrives, the most eligible prince in existence proposes marriage.
Sparks fly, but Vitalis is wary. Eleian of Terra Illustrata can have any woman he wants. Why has he set his sight on Vitalis, who, unless she manages to flee, will die in sixteen days? Is he hiding an ulterior motive, one that could put everything in jeopardy—her plans, her life, and her heart?
Ethics were funny things. I liked to think mine were intractable, that the line between what I would and wouldn’t do was so bright they could see it from space. Then Wren Masters would stroll into our office, and I’d have to face the truth—I was a liar.
I flipped the coffee maker switch back and forth a few times. Several seconds passed before the light sputtered on. It was a crummy machine in a crummy town, so the hesitation was honest enough.
No, my lying had nothing to do with the town or even the office itself, a prefab from the seventies standing in front of a used car lot and garage. It was more about who owned this shitty establishment and what they used it for: the Lone Gun Motorcycle Club, and drugs.
To the rest of the world I was an accountant. I didn’t wear a pocket protector, but it didn’t matter; I was the moral, boring type. Except I knew I was aiding and abetting felons.
Take this morning. I had more than enough evidence that my ethics were worth jack even before I watched Wren stroll toward the building, her brown-blonde hair streaking out behind her like a sail, before I scrutinized the roll of her hips and the cling of her blouse—could something that tiny be called a blouse?—before I could see how the anemic October sun lit her face. Because while I might be a good accountant in the absolute barest sense, what I did for Lone Gun wasn’t good.
When Wren propped the door open, said, “Morning, hot stuff,” and my stomach flip-flopped like a pancake, I knew my motives—lifelong unresolved lust—made what I did even worse.
About the Authors:
Emma Barry is a novelist, full-time mama, and recovering academic. When she’s not reading or writing, she loves hugs from her twins, her husband’s cooking, her cat’s whiskers, her dog’s tail, and Earl Grey tea. You can find her on the web at www.authoremmabarry.com.
Meredith Duran is the author of eleven novels, all published by Pocket Books. Her debut, The Duke of Shadows, has been translated into thirteen languages and together with her sophomore book, Bound by Your Touch, was ranked among the top 100 romances of all time in the 2010 All About Romance poll. Her other books include RITA award winner Fool Me Twice; Wicked Becomes You, which was included on Woman’s World list of Best Beach Reads for Summer 2010; and her February 2017 release, A Lady’s Code of Misconduct, which both Kirkus and Publishers Weekly called “flawlessly executed” in their starred reviews.
Meredith blames Anne Boleyn for sparking her lifelong obsession with British history, and for convincing her that princely love is no prize if it doesn’t come with a happily-ever-after. When not writing, Meredith enjoys collecting old etiquette manuals, guidebooks to nineteenth century London, and travelogues by intrepid Victorian women.
J.A. Rock is the author or coauthor of over twenty LGBTQ romance, suspense, and horror novels, as well as an occasional contributor to HuffPo Queer Voices. J.A. has received Lambda Literary and INDIEFAB Award nominations for Minotaur, and The Subs Club received the 2016 National Leather Association-International Pauline Reage Novel Award. J.A. lives in Chicago with an extremely judgmental dog, Professor Anne Studebaker.
Erin Satie is the author of the dark and elegant No Better Angels series, historical romances set in the early Victorian period. She’s currently hard at work on her upcoming series, Sweetness & Light, which should be just as elegant but not quite so dark.
Erin is a California native who’s lived on the coasts and in the heartland, in tiny city apartments and on a working farm. She studied art history in both college and graduate school—research is always her favorite part of starting a new book.
Her favorite part of finishing a book, whether reading or writing, is the happily ever after.
USA Today-bestselling author Sherry Thomas loves intricate plots, explosive action, and combustible love stories. She has written romance, fantasy, mystery, and a wuxia-inspired duology. Her books regularly receive starred reviews and best-of-the-year honors from trade publications, including such outlets as the New York Times and National Public Radio. She is also a two-time winner of Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® Award.
When it comes to doggy style, he’s behind you 100%.
Preston Evans is a legend in and out of the bedroom. He’s six foot two, gorgeous, and famous because his celebrity ex snapchatted his huge package. I hate him. I hate his stupid puppy store, Doggy Style. I hate the way he looks at me like I’m a piece of meat. I don’t care that his abs are chiseled, his arms are tattooed, and his face belongs on the cover of a magazine. Every dog bred means a shelter dog dead!
I chain myself to his store in protest, but instead of calling the cops, he throws me a bone.
If I spend one week with him in Hawaii pretending to be his fiancée to snag an investor, he will transform his store into a shelter dog adoption center, saving thousands of dogs’ lives.
One week and I never have to see this sexy, dirty-talking jerk again. How hard can he, uh I mean it, be?
Sex is off the table. So why do I want him to bend me over it?
About Alana Albertson
Alana Albertson is an award winning Latina author, the former President of Romance Writers of America’s Contemporary Romance, Chick Lit, and Young Adult chapters. She holds a Masters of Education from Harvard and a Bachelor of Arts in English from Stanford. A recovering professional ballroom dancer, Alana currently writes new adult romantic suspense, young adult, and contemporary romance. She lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, two sons, and five dogs. When she’s not spending her time needlepointing, dancing, or saving dogs from high kill shelters through her rescue Pugs N Roses, she can be found watching episodes of House Hunters, Homeland, or Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team.
Wild Card by Karina Halle Release Date: August 15th Genre: Contemporary Romance
Wild Card, an all-new contemporary STANDALONE by New York Times Bestselling author Karina Halle is LIVE!!!
Wild Card is a standalone novel and the first book in the North Ridge Trilogy about rough and rugged Canadian mountain men, the Nelson brothers. Canada’s never felt so hot.
She swore she’d never go back home.
She swore she’d never see the man who broke her all those years ago.
But you don’t always get to choose your path.
And sometimes that path is as wild and rugged as the heart.
Rachel Waters thought she saw the last of the small mountain town of North Ridge, British Columbia, when she left six years ago. But while her advertising career blossomed beneath the skyscrapers of Toronto, her mother’s sudden illness has the 26-year old returning to North Ridge to care for her, putting her career on hold while dealing with family secrets, regrets and unresolved goodbyes.
Shane Nelson has always been a bit of a wild card. The youngest of three brothers, Shane’s spent most of his life being underestimated and misunderstood. With his quiet intensity, classic good looks and thoughtful demeanor, he’s an enigma on horseback, managing his father’s sprawling ranch on the slopes of North Ridge.
But while Shane remains the quintessential brooding cowboy, complete with an arsenal of inner demons, all of that changes when Rachel steps back into his life.
She was the girl he pushed away.
Now she’s the girl who wishes she could leave.
Despite the odds, Shane will do everything to convince Rachel he needs a second chance that he doesn’t deserve but when the two of them head off into the wilderness together in search of lost cattle, more than just their hearts are at stake.
Whether it’s love or lives on the line, one thing is for sure: always bet on the wild card.
Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Love, in English, The Artists Trilogy, Dirty Angels and over 20 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books.
Halle is represented by the Root Literary and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK.
Truth: A painful condition caused by a prolonged state of sexual arousal without release.
Myth: Only affects males.
I’m beyond frustrated with the man who’s left me high and very far from dry. Multiple times. But, somehow, even though I’m not interested in a relationship, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome keeps me coming back for more—one crazy, sexual debacle after the next.
Come hell or high water, the stars will align, and the release will be out of this world.
I’m captivated with the woman who’s left me sixty-nine shades of blue, and she’s only in this for one thing. The first time, I blew it—and not in the good way—but I’m going to ensure we finally see it through. I need to put an end to this “plague” of sexual calamities and prove to Sarah that we can have more.
It’s time to grab the universe by the balls and show it who’s boss.
About the Author:
RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl.
Toying with Her by Prescott Lane Release Date: August 17th Genre: Contemporary Romance
Toying with Her, an all-new standalone from Prescott Lane is coming August 17th!!!
No one said finding love was easy, but when you invented the world’s best selling vibrator, it’s near impossible. Yep, that’s right. That little toy hidden in your bedside table is my brain child. It’s aptly named Woman on Top. And you know what they say . . . it’s lonely at the top.
So I’m headed home to my Southern roots. It’s supposed to be an extended Summer vacation — nothing more. But Rorke Weston has other plans for me. Plans that not only involve me being on top, but also underneath him.
It’s been said you never forget your first. For me, that’s definitely true. No night has ever lived up to the one I spent with Rorke.
He’s turned into quite a man. Tan from the Southern sun, and stubborn as the day is long. And there’s nothing sweeter than the swipe of his tongue.
Rorke wants his chance. The one we never had. But that was a long time ago. When I still believed in Prince Charming and Happily Ever Afters. Even ten years later, I feel a pull. And it’s not simply Rorke yanking down my panties.
Do second chances really happen? Or is my heart simply toying with me?
Hammering the nail with one hard pound, I mutter, “Friends?”
That should be a cuss word, especially coming out of her full, pink lips. I toss the hammer aside, scanning the mostly-converted barn. Yep, I live in a barn. Well, not any barn. The barn where Sterling and I lost our virginity. I know just the spot. It’s the spot where my bed is now.
I didn’t plan it that way. In fact, I didn’t even really think about it until she showed up in town the other day. I came home, walked in, and realized I’ve designed this place around her. Crazy, but true. That woman has burned herself into the deepest parts of my soul. Deeper than even I realized. She was my first, a memory. I thought it was over. I thought we’d only ever get that one night. She had her life, and I had mine. I didn’t see this coming.
This old barn sits on the edge of my parents’ property. It sucks to be almost thirty and still living on my parents’ land. Technically, I’m not living at home, but sometimes it feels like it. Unfortunately, buying my own house on my teaching salary isn’t in the cards, so a few years ago, I started converting one of the old barns.
Every nail, every piece of wood in here has been touched by me. And it’s almost done. It’s wide open, designed that way mostly because it’s less work than putting up a bunch of walls. The only room with any privacy is the bathroom. I left the distressed rafters from the ceiling exposed and just refinished them. The original sliding barn doors have been replaced with new ones. Almost one whole wall houses my personal library. The only thing left to finish is the kitchen. The upper cabinets are in, but my only appliances are a refrigerator and microwave. So any real meals I eat come from the main house — my parents’ house. My plan is to use part of my summer vacation to finish it up.
I look over at the bed. My subconscious must have taken over with that decision. Sterling is etched into the fiber of this place. Maybe that’s the reason I haven’t ever brought a woman to see this place before? Who knows? The subconscious is a tricky bitch.
But the memories of that day and night are so vivid. It’s all flooding back now that she’s back.
I remember a buddy of mine had rushed me home my freshman year of college, making the two-and-a-half-hour drive from New Orleans in just under two. But I was too late. I wasn’t here when Levi took his last breath. Those few days are a blur. Everything is a blur until the moment I stood up at his funeral to speak; her green eyes were the only thing I saw, her whimpers the only ones I heard. I hadn’t expected her to be there. I hadn’t expected her to fly home from college to say goodbye to my brother, but she had. And I didn’t expect her to find me at my parents’ house after the funeral. I swear, there were hundreds of people there, and it was the loneliest day of my life. I had to get out of there and started walking. I’m not sure if it’s just me, but when I need to think, I tend to walk.That day, Sterling was by my side.We didn’t talk, roaming around the fields until we ended up at this old barn. It was the place that Levi and I escaped to. As little kids, we’d used it as a fort, a clubhouse. Later, it held our bikes and four wheelers.
I remember being embarrassed bringing Sterling inside. It was old and filled with our junk. The only place to even sit was an old, beat up sofa. We made good use of it, though.
I’ve never been as unprepared for something as I was that day. Unprepared to put my brother in the ground, unprepared to lose my virginity, unprepared to let her walk away.
I chuckle remembering exactly how unprepared I was when our naked bodies first touched. My brain thought “condom.” But I didn’t have one. My dick promised it’d pull out. But I had no idea the kind of willpower that would take. I swear to God, I had every intention of pulling out.
I thought for sure that she’d kill me, and quickly launched into the lamest apology in the history of the universe. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I was never so thankful for anything in my whole life as when she kissed me to shut me up, whispering she was on the pill.
Some might think it’s a dick move to be banging a girl the day you bury your twin brother. But it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t cheap. I didn’t think of it as a one-night stand, even though technically it was. It’s impossible to explain. It was us clinging onto life, onto each other. Emily Brontë wrote, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” And after that night, our souls have been forever linked.
Every single second of that night is burned into my mind, my heart, my skin.
After that night, we stayed in touch for a long time — email, phone calls. But we were thousands of miles apart. And our paths never crossed again. If I was at home on break, she wasn’t. It just seemed like it wasn’t meant to be. She is the one that got away. We never got our chance.
Now she’s back, and she thinks we can be friends? I spent my entire childhood and teenage years being “friends” with her.
She wants to be friends? That’s fine. I’ll be her friend. But I’ll be damned if that’s all I am.
About the Author:
Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She’s got seven other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace, Layers of Her, The Reason for Me, and The Sex Bucket List. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren’t enough happily ever afters in real life.
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Ryker My life is perfect. I have it all—the woman of my fantasies and my shot at the championship. It’s all right in front of me. In my grips. I can see it, taste it, feel it. No chance in hell I’ll lose. Until I fall at the mercy of another man’s hands. I’m torn apart and forced to make difficult decisions while staring malicious hatred in the eyes. Doors open and others close—ones I’m not ready to see go. My course changes. My dreams begin evading me. You think I fought hard to get where I’m at now? You haven’t seen the depth of my perseverance yet. This isn’t the end of me. I AM NOT DONE.
Whitney He has everything in his hands—his career, me, our future. One costly mistake, a defiant decision, and everything vanishes. As he holds my hand through the darkness, he loses it all. I watch with anguish as he struggles to put the torn pieces back together. It’s not as easy as he had hoped. But his strength proves powerful. His determination unbreakable. Together we’ll conquer. Together we don’t accept defeat. WE ARE NOT DONE.
***MUST BE READ AFTERNO HOLDS***
DON’T MISS THE BEGINNING OF RYKER & WHITNEY’S LOVE STORY IN NO HOLDS!
Ryker I lost the championship. The contract. My dignity.
I’ve been offered a second chance. I’m back with vengeance. Determined and focused. I’m going to win the championship.
Just when I thought I had it all planned out, she walked into my brother’s anniversary party. She’s beautiful, exquisite, and has a smile that makes me weak. I need to make her mine. Now I’m not only fighting to win the championship, I’m also fighting to win her.
Whitney My life was on track…until him. He’s not my type—an adrenaline junkie who enjoys inflicting pain on others for sport. Tall and tattooed with piercing blue eyes, he’s too sexy to resist. I didn’t see him coming until he was already firmly entrenched in my life. Suddenly, I’m falling head over heels for a man I realize I can’t breathe without. We’re in for the fight of our lives. And we both have everything to lose.
ABOUT T.C. MATSON
“Dreaming in Reality…You dream in reality when you pick up a book and get lost in it. In my writing, I strive to take you to a place where reality and fantasy become a blurry line. Everything should be relatable. It could happen…couldn’t it?” ~ TC Matson
TC Matson loves to let her character’s voices be heard. With a head full of stories, she puts her keyboard through a beating daily. With an understanding that love isn’t always instant and full of flowers—her writing mirrors it.
She’s a romance junkie at heart and an avid reader. Add those two together and she will devour books within hours, getting lost in the world the author creates.
Matson resides in the peaceful Piedmont area of NC with her husband and three boys, where staying hopped up on caffeine is the key to her sanity. Chaos is indefinite and a sense of humor is an absolute must.