arc · audio · review

Review — Blind Attraction by Eden Summers

17725275.jpg

4 stars

Blind Attraction was a well written book. While I am not a huge fan of rock star romances, or books involving famous people in general, this book was actually really good! The main and secondary characters were well developed and kept you intrigued.

I enjoyed learning about Alana and about how her upbringing was. I thoroughly enjoyed the friendship her and Kate had. I adored how Kate brought out the more adventurous side in her.

I can’t take a single breath without wishing I was touching you.

Mitch and most of the other band mates weren’t your typical rock stars. I enjoyed seeing the caring side of him, even if parts of the story wasn’t quite as believable as I would have liked.

Mitch and Alana’s chemistry started out as a slow simmer, which was sweet. I’m glad he respected her and how her past was. But at the same time, everything seemed to happen in this whirlwind of 48 hours. It was a crazy time vortex.

I want to take my time. I want to taste you, savor you, and have you fall asleep in my arms.

I was given an arc audio copy of this book, and I must admit this wasn’t my most favorite audio I’ve ever listened to. The female narrator was fine, but she took some getting use to. It took me a little bit longer to get use to the male narrator. I think maybe he just didn’t fit the character to me….I’m not sure. By the end, it was fine and I didn’t think anything of it, but the beginning was a bit of a struggle.

Amazon |Goodreads

 

Advertisements
release blitz

Release Blitz — The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent

 

Title: The Unrequited
Author: Saffron A. Kent
Genre: Contemporary/Erotic Romance
Release Date: July 13, 2017


Blurb
Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from
unrequited love. But it’s time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive
calling.
What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps
seeing around campus could be a great one—only he is the new poetry
professor—the married poetry professor.
Thomas Abrams is a stereotypical artist—rude, arrogant, and
broody—but his glares and taunts don’t scare Layla. She might be bad at poetry,
but she is good at reading between the lines. Beneath his prickly façade,
Thomas is lonely, and Layla wants to know why. Obsessively.
Sometimes you do get what you want. Sometimes you end up in
the storage room of a bar with your professor and you kiss him. Sometimes he
kisses you back like the world is ending and he will never get to kiss you
again. He kisses you until you forget the years of unrequited love; you forget
all the rules, and you dare to reach for something that is not yours.
NOTE: Please be aware that this book deals with sensitive
topics like cheating and death. 18+ Only.

 

 

Purchase Links
99c for 24 hours ONLY
Price will go up to $2.99 AFTER release day!
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Excerpt
I’m hit by
a storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body,
and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the
blame for it later.
I break the
rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, it’s a kiss
of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understand—but one isn’t
enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time
on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.
It’s not enough, these small, barely-there
touches. I want more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.
Abruptly,
he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not
for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark,
raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.
“Are you
trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift
ponytail.
He couldn’t
tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign.
Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”
He inches
closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely
closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”
Oh God,
does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my
heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.
“H-How?” I
ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y
voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.
For a
second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll back out from whatever
this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but then I sense the shift in
the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, “Like this.”

 

Author Bio
Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian
Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book
world.
I’m a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the
butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind
of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally
ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.

The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by
the end of it, you’ll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love,
no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.

Author Links
cover reveal

Cover Reveal — Sweet Disaster by Sierra Hill

Sweet Disaster by Sierra Hill

Release Date: June 15, 2017

Cover Designer: RBA Designs

Photographer: Wander Aguiar

Models: Tiffanylyn and Jonny James

 

Synopsis

Kady:

My life is a complete and utter disaster.
One major screw up after another.
In other words – I’m trouble.

I attempted college, but made a mess of that scene, too. Chalk it up to yet another disappointment in my parents’ ever-growing list of Kady failures.
Deciding I needed an escape from reality, my best friend and I flew off to Europe, where we were going to have the time of our lives.

The only problem with that plan is that I ran out of money after two weeks, and now I’m stuck in Florence, Italy with no means of getting home.

See? Trouble finds me wherever I go.

Gavin:
All I ever wanted to do was play basketball.
It’s all I’m good at.

I bypassed college and went straight to the pros. I’ve been playing overseas in Italy for six months, gaining fame, fans and having fun.
There’s only one problem. I miss home. I’m not too big to admit I’m homesick for my family and friends.

But that all changed when I heard from Cade Griffin, a former college hoops star. He called and asked me to rescue his sister, Kadence, who’s stranded and alone here in Florence.

Seems easy enough, right?

Except for the fact that Kady Griffin is gorgeous, completely off-limits and a sweet disaster waiting to happen all over my life.

 

Goodreads

 

 

Giveaway

One of Five ARC’s for Sweet Disaster
a Rafflecopter giveaway https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b1257f8d87/?

 

 

About the Author

Since writing and publishing her first book in 2014, Sierra Hill has found her creative passion in writing about the fictional characters that live in her brain, who constantly shout for their love stories to be told.

Sierra frequently indulges in unhealthy doses of reading, too much dark chocolate, and never enough coffee. She often finds herself traveling around the country to see her favorite musicians in concert and is an alternative music enthusiast.

Sierra resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of twenty years and her long-haired, German Shepherd. She is currently working on her next book.

 

Connect with Sierra Hill

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2rbqG7m

Facebook Author Page: http://bit.ly/2snyQct

Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/2t4vx6Q

Twitter: http://bit.ly/2t4Hs4F

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

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2rVLmNS

 

ML:

arc · review

Review — Checkmate: This is Dangerous by Kennedy Fox

checkmate_6_This is Dangerous.jpg

5 stars

This is Dangerous was my first Kennedy Fox book, and I was so excited to read it! I’ve been a fan and have wanted to read their work for awhile now. I devoured the pages. I sat down and next thing I knew I was more than half done. I couldn’t get enough of Logan and Kayla, or the other characters. I, now, want to go back and read the other Checkmate books, so I can get their backstory!

Is it possible two people with broken pasts can feel whole again together?

Kayla was so inspirational. All of the volunteer work she did was beyond humbling. I also loved her pups. I wanted to crawl into the pages and cuddle them [and lets be honest… I wanted to cuddle Logan too ;)]. Kayla’s disastrous first dates were hilarious and I loved seeing Logan coming to her rescue.

Sometimes you have to make the bad choices to figure out what the right choices are.

Logan, swoon-worthy Logan. What can be said about him? He’s the true alpha male. He has a somewhat mysterious past and secrets he doesn’t want anyone to know.

Logan and Kayla’s spark was electric. They sizzled the pages like you wouldn’t believe. They have real chemistry.

When you find a girl who makes you feel normal and wanted again, you grab on tight and you don’t let go.

What a cliffhanger. I need the next book now. September is just too far away. I feel like an addict, rocking back and forth in the corner, waiting for my next Kennedy Fox fix!

Amazon  | Goodreads

chapter reveal

Chapter Reveal — The Unrequited by Saffron A Kent

 

Title: The Unrequited
Author: Saffron A. Kent
Genre: Contemporary/Erotic Romance

Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs

Release Date: July 13, 2017


Blurb
Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from
unrequited love. But it’s time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive
calling.
What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps
seeing around campus could be a great one—only he is the new poetry
professor—the married poetry professor.
Thomas Abrams is a stereotypical artist—rude, arrogant, and
broody—but his glares and taunts don’t scare Layla. She might be bad at poetry,
but she is good at reading between the lines. Beneath his prickly façade,
Thomas is lonely, and Layla wants to know why. Obsessively.
Sometimes you do get what you want. Sometimes you end up in
the storage room of a bar with your professor and you kiss him. Sometimes he
kisses you back like the world is ending and he will never get to kiss you
again. He kisses you until you forget the years of unrequited love; you forget
all the rules, and you dare to reach for something that is not yours.
NOTE: Please be aware that this book deals with sensitive
topics like cheating and death. 18+ Only.

 

 

Pre-order Links
99c for a limited time
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Thomas & Layla’s First Kiss
It’s Saturday and I’m at The Alchemy with Emma, Dylan, and
Matt. We find a table in the middle of the room and Emma thumps the big bag of
goodies down on it. It’s prompt night for the Labyrinth and Emma is in charge
of producing the prompts.
“Explain to me one more time why you need this giant-ass bag
again?” Matt says, taking off his coat and hanging it on the chair as he takes
a seat.
Dylan gives him a disdainful look. “She’s got her prompts in
it, dumbass.”
Emma smiles in pleasure, her eyes on the bag as she looks
for something. It’s adorable how shy she is in front of him when she’s normally
so self-assured. Dylan and Emma have gone on a few dates this week. Turns out,
Dylan loved the tangerine. I knew it.
“And why can’t you show them a picture or something on your
phone?” He bumps his shoulder with mine. “Back me up here, Layla. This freaking
bag is a monstrosity.”
“I don’t have a problem with it, actually,” I say. “It’s
kind of fun to look at something while writing about it.”
When Emma told me about the Labyrinth’s prompt night, my
first reaction was panic. I didn’t think I could be a part of it. I wasn’t
prepared. I haven’t even read all the books I own.
Reading has become a vital part of my life, now. In the past
week, I’ve only roamed on the street once. I haven’t been to Thomas’ house at
all. I stay up late reading. There’s so much to discover, and I’ve been living
inside this fog for so long. I feel like time is running out on me. I’ll
probably die before reading all the books out there.
I try to calm myself. I’m here to be a part of something
greater than me—art—and I don’t have to be perfect. The only thing I should be
worried about is seeing Thomas.
It’s been six days since I cried in front of him, told him
my ugly love story, and sort of licked his hand, trying to taste him. Since
then I’ve seen him all around campus, at Crème and Beans with Nicky, in the
corridors at the Labyrinth when Emma dragged me to a play reading. I’ve even
seen him in the park, at the bench, the one time I went out at night. He was
smoking and battling with himself, as usual, and I was hiding behind the
tree. 
It’s like he’s everywhere. My secret keeper. The one person
who knows what I did.
And he is disgusted by me. He never looks at me. To him, I’m
invisible. Somehow, this hurts even more because deep down I thought he could
relate to me, but he doesn’t.
I really am a freak of nature.
The front door of the bar opens and in strides Sarah Turner,
followed by Professor Masters and Thomas. The snowflakes swirl behind his back
as he enters and the door swings shut.
“Hello children,” Professor Masters greets us in a jovial
voice as he saunters forward. There is a chorus of chuckles and Hi Professor
around the room.
Without paying attention to anyone, Thomas breaks off from
the trio and heads for the bar. Sarah throws him an annoyed look but Professor
Masters steers her toward their destination.
Thomas orders a drink and sits on the barstool, his long
legs straddling the small seat. He takes off his jacket, revealing a plain grey
t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders and biceps. His jean-covered thighs
bulge as he bounces his right leg with impatience.
The bartender sets down a chocolate martini in front of him
and I look away, embarrassed. His weakness for chocolate awakens something raw
and melty inside my stomach. I haven’t thought about what I’ll do come Monday.
Will I go back to class? Will I hide and never show my face again?
Emma gets up from beside me, greets the room, and explains
the instructions. She digs inside her bag and fishes something out. “So the
first prompt is this bottle of hot sauce. You have to write a short poem, no
more than twenty lines, with whatever comes to mind when you see a red bottle
with H.O.T. written on it. I’m going to pass this around for a bit so you guys
can look at it.”
My first thought is that I hate hot sauce. I’m more of a
sweet-loving person. In fact, I’m the only sweet-loving person in my family or
the families I’ve had over the years. My mom, Caleb, my dad, Caleb’s dad, even
Henry—they all shy away from sweet things.
The thought of Caleb makes me aware of the phone in my
jacket pocket. Since those missed calls at Crème and Beans, he’s called several
times, but I haven’t picked up. I was hoping he’d leave a message or something
so I’d know what it’s about, but he hasn’t.
Why does he keep calling me? As impulsive as I am, a strange
fear is keeping me from taking his call.
Emma bumps my elbow and tells me to get writing.
Right, hot sauce. I nibble at my pen, trying to think…no,
trying to feel. How does hot sauce make me feel? H.O.T. Feel. Feel.
I close my eyes and the first thing I see is Thomas’ face.
His beautiful, intense gaze. How every molecule of my body, every inch of my
flesh burns when he is near. How he has the power to change the weather, cold
to hot.
Gasping, my eyes whip open. Thomas Abrams is a
fire-breather. He breathes flames and lust, makes me forget everything and say
yes. Yes to obsession. Yes to stalking. Yes to insanity. Yes to licking.
With shaking hands, I begin to write and capture him in
words. The pen moves and the words flow out. They keep flowing without my
knowledge. All I can feel is the heat seesawing through my body.
Next thing I know I’m jolted by Emma’s clap and shrill
voice. “All right guys, it’s time to stop. Put down your pens.”
Murmurs escalate and the room breaks out in conversation, as
Emma asks someone to volunteer their poem first. With flushed cheeks, I pocket
my small notebook. While the entire room is busy, I get up and shuffle into the
hallway in the back. I need to get to the ladies’ room and calm myself down.
I rub my arms at the unexpected chill in the dank hallway
and take a deep breath. My legs can barely support themselves. Is this how
poets feel when they put feelings into words? Is this how Thomas feels? It’s
like bleeding. It’s like running for miles and running out of breath.
Before I can reach my destination, I’m being hauled into a
dark, tiny room. I don’t even have time to squeal before the flimsy wooden door
is shut, and I’m surrounded by a very familiar heat.
It’s Thomas.
He has me trapped inside what looks to be a storage room,
his hand banded around my elbow, pushing me back against the dank wall.
“T-Thomas.” I’m panting. “What… What’s happening? What’re
you doing?”
His chiseled face is a study of thick shadows and thin
slices of light under the flickering yellow bulb. The only bright spots on his
features are those fire-starting eyes of his. I can smell the delicious smoke
rising from my body, can feel the sting.
Now that the initial shock is gone, my body sags, relieved
to be the center of his attention after days. He sees us. There are things to
worry about, I know that, but I can’t muster the energy to.
“Thomas?” I whisper when it’s clear he won’t say anything.
“Wh-What are you doing?”
His breaths are choppy, short jabs of air inhaled and
exhaled as he stares at every inch of my face. “Do you still love him?”
“What?”
“Do you still love that guy?”
“I… Yes.”
“How much?”
My breaths match his, succinct and sharp. I study him, this
man in front of me. There’s a hint of vulnerability to him. His usually cool
persona is frayed. Is it because I told him my story? Maybe he relates to me
after all.
“Thomas, what’s going on?”
“How much do you love him, Layla? Do you love him so much
that you hate yourself? That you can’t stand your own sight? Do you constantly
think about how to fix it? How to make it better? How to be better?”
He isn’t merely frayed—he’s coming apart. Naked agony dances
on his features. It’s too bright and glaring. It’s too similar to mine, but I’m
not worried about that right now. I’m worried about him.
“Yes,” I whisper. I lift my hand and press it to his
stubbled face. His cheekbone is arched and high, seemingly made of granite as
it pulses beneath my palm. “But I’m so tired of it,” I admit, and his eyes
flare. Fire-breathing eyes. I wonder why I didn’t notice it before. It’s so
obvious now. They never fail to start a fire in my soul.
He crowds me against the wall, as if sinking his hard body
into mine, but there isn’t any touch involved. His frame sort of hovers over
me, heating me up, jumpstarting my nerves. I’m a mesh of live wires, firing
lust and adrenaline. I’m sticky as sugar and drunk as whiskey.
Thomas arranges his body and places both his palms on the
wall, caging me in. The vein on his bicep becomes taut, a purple string tugging
on my senses.
I watch him watch my parted lips, and suddenly, it’s the
only piece of my body I can feel. My mouth, throbbing, puffy, swollen with the
need.
“Me too,” he whispers, almost to himself.
I wasn’t meant to hear it, but I did. Again, I’m hit by a
storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body,
and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the
blame for it later.
I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck
on his plump lips, it’s a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I
understand—but one isn’t enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I
give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on
his jaw.
It’s not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want
more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.
Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him
fearfully, ready to apologize—not for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His
gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers
and sweating with his heat.
“Are you trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his
fingers on my makeshift ponytail.
He couldn’t tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m
glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”
He inches closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as
that is—but infinitely closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it
right.”
Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine
arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.
“H-How?” I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my
body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild,
uncontrolled.
For a second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll
back out from whatever this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but
then I sense the shift in the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and
growls, “Like this.”
Twisting my hair in his grasp, he swallows my lips in his
mouth. He sucks on the shape of my sensitive flesh and all I can do is let him.
I put my palms on his shoulders, feeling the heated muscles under the soft
material of his t-shirt. His chest shifts and slides over my breasts, like a
wave of water. I want to be drenched with it. I want every drop of his sweat,
his lust on every inch of my skin. I pull him toward me so he can crush me with
his massive weight.
He doesn’t budge though. He stands there, unfazed, still
devouring my lips, immobile. His tongue thrusts in and licks me from the
inside—the roof of my mouth, my tongue, my teeth. He is after my essence, the
special taste that lives deep. He growls when he gets it, my flavor, and the
pressure of his grip on my hair increases tenfold.
It’s painful, but not enough to tamp down my arousal. I give
up my attempts to bring him to me. Rather, I go to him. I lift my leg and wrap
it around his waist. My hands creep up and lock around his neck. I climb him
like an ivy, toxic and poisonous and shameless.
I press my body to his and kiss him back with everything I
am. I pour my soul into it. For these few moments, I become a balm to his pain.
But it doesn’t last long. My selfishness and my need for him
take over. My core starts leaking and it becomes hard to remember I’m only
meant to give, not to take.
I rotate my hips, searching for that magical friction
against the ridged planes of his body. Then I feel it—his erection against my
upper tummy. It’s huge. Hard. A heated rod. It’s alive, and when I move against
it, I feel it throb. A tortured moan rips out of his chest.
Thomas tears his mouth away from me and even my soul mourns
the loss. We stare at each other, gasping for breath. I’m still clung around
him and his cock is still nestled between our aroused bodies. I adjust my thigh
around his hip, and it throbs with the small movement.
“Don’t fucking move,” he tells me, emphasizing it with a tug
on my hair.
“Okay.” I swallow. “I’m sorry.”
A pained chuckle. “For what?”
“I made you kiss me.”
The legendary tic makes its appearance at the heel of my
words. It drums on his jaw like a secondary heart, or maybe a time bomb. “You
did, didn’t you?”
Unable to talk, I simply nod.
In answer, he lodges his thigh between my legs and presses
on my core. It’s an electric shock multiplied by a strike of lightning, and I
almost burst into flames.
“Wh-What…” I try to speak but he increases the pressure,
eliciting a moan from me.
“Why?” he whispers, noting my lusty reactions. “Why did you
make me do it, Layla?”
“Because I—”
Again, he repeats his movements, reducing me to wordless,
needy moans. What is he doing?
“Because you what?”
“Because I do this kind of thing. I-I’m selfish and bad…” I
moan, doused in shame and arousal. “I take what I want because I can’t control
myself. I don’t want to.”
“And you want me, don’t you?” When I don’t answer, he tugs
on my hair sharply. “You want me, Layla.”
It’s not a question, but still I nod my head. Yes, I want
him. I’ve wanted him since the first time I saw him. I want him more and more
with each passing day. I want him because he’s like me. He’s in unrequited love
and I want to save him, somehow.
His eyes shine with satisfaction, a sense of victory at my
answer. He loves my desperation and it makes me hornier.
We’re so fucked, my omniscient heart says. I agree.
“I can do whatever I want with you and you’ll let me. Isn’t
that right, Layla?” He licks his lips as if savoring his own words. “I can tell
you to jump and you’ll ask how high. I can tell you to strip and you’ll strip
as if your clothes are on fire.”
“Yes,” I moan.
He rewards me by grinding his muscular thigh and my cunt
pulses. My lust-addled brain commands me to move, to chase the friction, and I
do it. I slide up and down his maddening leg, digging my nails into his scalp
as the pleasure mounts.
I feel the angry and rhythmic jerk of his cock on my stomach
and I love it. I love the fact that I’ve shed all my inhibitions and am reduced
to this, a lust-drunk puppet. I love that it gives Thomas pleasure. He isn’t
sad anymore, or vulnerable.
Yes, I love all that.
His pain has become my pain, and it’s going to make me come
on his leg. I watch Thomas with hazy eyes. I watch the arrogant slope of his
flushed cheeks. I watch his dilated pupils, his wet, parted lips. All the
while, I’m moving, humping his leg. Up and down. Up and down.
“Of course you will,” he rasps. “Will you come for me,
Layla?”
I jerk out a nod. In the back of my mind, I know how wrong
this is, how shameful, but I can’t stop myself. As Thomas said, I’ll do
anything for him in this moment.
My movements are haphazard now, jerky, epileptic. I want it
so bad. I want my cum to gush so hard it seeps through my panties and leaves a
wet patch on his jeans.
The graphic, vulgar thought pushes me over the edge. Hard
and moaning, I come, just the way I wanted—no, just the way he wanted. I was
simply following his orders. My mind is filled with cotton and shooting stars
and static. I want to bask in it forever.
Oh God, it’s so good. So good.
The pressure on my body eases. I don’t feel his muscles
between my legs, and the harsh grip on my hair has vanished. In the wake of my
orgasm, Thomas has let me go, and in turn, forced me to unwind my body from
his.
I’m still recovering from my climax, leaning against the
wall for balance, but I try to focus. Thomas is watching me, intensely, his
flaming eyes working double-time to take me in, his hands on either side of my
head.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Layla? Can you hear
your heart beating? Is it trying to pound through your chest? Do you think you
can control it? Tell it to calm down? Your hips are still shaking. I bet you’re
still leaking cum, aren’t you? Do you think you can control any of that?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’d be surprised to know how many
things aren’t your fault at all.” His eyes bore into mine, as if telling me the
importance of his declaration.
For a second, I can’t make the connection between what he’s
telling me and what happened here, but then I get it. He’s absolving me. He’s
rendering me blameless for kissing him, for making him kiss me. I wonder if
this absolution includes what happened with Caleb. Am I free of those sins too?
My heart scoffs. Are you kidding? We tricked him into having
sex.
“I saw you,” I blurt out without thinking.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know in my bones
that this will destroy whatever kindness he’s harboring toward me.
“Through the window,” I add, because I can’t handle not
being blamed.
Everything is always my fault. The broken vases at home.
Muddy footprints on the tile floors. The missing bottles of liquor from the
cabinet. Caleb’s missing underwear. The fact that he ran off to college a month
early and won’t even visit home. The fact that I shoplifted, drank and drove
numerous times, crashed parties, broke my mom’s ice sculpture.
It’s all my fault. It’s just like me to do those things. I
want Thomas’ accusation too.
“I saw how lonely you were. I saw the anger on your face,
the way you…the way you paced around the room, like you were trapped.” The
scene plays in my head: his frantic steps, his hands tugging at his hair.
Then the scene changes and I’m outside his bedroom window.
“And-And then you were with her—Hadley. I… You were talking and you looked so
sad and angry, and then she left. I kept watching your back and your shoulders.
They were so tight and I could see the effort it took you to keep yourself
together. Then you picked up a vase and I thought you’d throw it against the
wall, break it, because I know your heart was breaking, but you held on to it.
You set it down gently. You were better than me. I-I could never have done
that.”
Nothing moves on his body. I don’t know if he’s breathing,
if he’s even seeing me.
“Thomas, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to see it. I…”
Then he shifts on his feet and the overhead light slashes
his face into two halves of shadow and light. He appears beastly, like an
animal with bright eyes and hard face. For the first time since I began my
confession, I feel a tinge of true fear.
I can see he wants to do something, maybe harm me
physically. His body is taut with violence. He looks bigger, enlarged with the
barely leashed control. For a second, I think he does lose control. His hands
jerk and ball into fists, but then he takes a shallow, choppy breath.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” he says softly, deadly.
 With that, he marches
out of the storage room.
Author Bio
Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian
Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book
world.
I’m a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the
butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind
of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally
ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.

The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by
the end of it, you’ll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love,
no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.

 

Author Links
PINTEREST

AMAZON

GOODREADS

BOOKBUB 

Giveaway

There is a giveaway for a $15 Amazon gift card

ENTER HERE

 

 

release blitz

Release Blitz — His Turn by JA Huss

 

 

Title: His Turn
Series: Turning #3
Author: JA Huss
Genre: Dark Erotic Suspense
Release Date: July 4, 2017
Blurb
I look her
body up and down as I circle her.
Mine?
I smile a
devious, deviant, I’m gonna make you
sorry you ever started playing this game with me
smile.
And then I
take her hand.
I lead her
to the elevator.
We go up to
my apartment.
I tie her
wrists together with rope.
Raise her
arms above her head.
And chain
her to the ceiling.
It’s my
turn.

Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

Trailer


Excerpt

“Why are
you so nervous?” I ask Jordan. We’re sitting in Smith’s bar. The table is
elaborately set for a nice dinner, our glasses are full of expensive alcohol,
and our cocks are happy. Why does he look like shit is about to hit the fan?
“She had a good time,” I say, sipping my brandy.
“Yeah,”
Jordan says. His eyes are glued to the elevator doors, just waiting for her to
come downstairs. “But it was sneaky, ya know?”
“What was
sneaky about it?”
He shoots
me a look that says, Come on.
“She gave
in, Jordan. We didn’t make her do anything.”
“Right.” He
sighs. “But you’re what, just pretending we didn’t have that conversation this
morning? You know, the one where you said, ‘I’m gonna fuck with her head so
bad, she’ll spin like The Exorcist?’”
“It was a
joke.” I laugh. “All we did was make her feel good tonight. She loved every
fucking minute of it. Even when I choked her with my cock. She couldn’t get
enough.”
“That’s
because she was drunk on your dick at the time, Bric. But that feeling is gonna
wear off and she’s gonna run the entire night through her head, and then—”
“Then she’s
gonna realize we know what the fuck we’re doing. That’s all.”
“No,” he
says. “She’s gonna realize you’re just playing with her emotions. Like you do
with every fucking woman you’ve ever been with.”
“So?”
“So then
she’s gonna up her game, Bric. And this is gonna turn into a mind-fuck
shit-fest. I like her,” he says. “Maybe more than like her, OK? I don’t want
her thinking I’m like you.”
“You are
like me,” I say, getting pissed off. Why the fuck is he sharing her with me if
he likes her so much?
But I don’t
ask that question.
Because I
like her too. Just not in the same way.
“See,”
Jordan says.
“See what?”
I ask
“That
fucking evil grin you’ve got on your face. I know you well enough, Bricman.
Well enough to see the Machiavellian wheels turning inside your head. Do not
play with her emotions.”
“Why?” I
ask, my temper rising. “Is she some kind of fragile flower?”
But then I
realize this intrigues me.
“Stop it,”
Jordan says. “She’s not a puzzle, OK?”
“Then why
are we even playing?”
He huffs
out some air. Runs his fingers through his still-wet hair. “Because she’s not…”
He trails off.
“She’s not
what?” I ask. What the fuck is wrong with him tonight?
“She’s not
my type.”
“OK,” I
say, not really understanding.
“I mean I’m
not really her type.”
“Hmm,” I
say. “Do you love her?”
“No,” he
says. “Definitely not. But I like her. I could see myself playing with her for
a long time. And if you fuck it up, that won’t happen. You, of all people,
understand how fucking hard it is to get a girl you can trust in this game. One
who just gets you, ya know? We get each other, Bric. I realize it’s only been a
few weeks, but we know each other. I just like her. And we have an
understanding. I get to boss her around and be a dick, but she knows I’m not a
dick, right? She knows I’ll show up the next day and treat her nice and give
her a gift. She knows I’m just playing. We’re playing.”
“It’s a
game. Same as this,” I say.
“Dude, come
on,” he says, almost fully exasperated now. “You are a sick motherfucker, OK?
You know this, right?”
“Then why
am I even here?”
“Because
we’re good together, ya know. Not great. Yet,” he adds. “Not what you had with
Smith and Quin, obviously. But we understand each other. We work well as a
team. She liked that up there.”
“So what’s
the problem?”
“The
problem is you’re in a weird place right now and I’m afraid you’re gonna take
it out on Nadia. Don’t do that, OK?” He stares at me. “Just be…”
“Just be
your back-up?” I ask, huffing out a laugh.
He shrugs.
But that’s it. That’s what he wants. Don’t overpower him. Don’t take her away
from him. Don’t make her rethink her strategy. Just help him keep her.
It takes me
a minute to decide if I’m angry or not.
I decide
I’m not. I don’t give two fucks about this Nadia girl. And my goal really was
to break her. So I shrug. “Fine,” I say. “You want a wingman. Fine. I’ll help
you out, Jordan. But when I need a favor, I’ll expect the same in return.”

 

Also Available

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

 

Author Bio

JA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.

 

Author Links
release blitz

Release Blitz — Checkmate: This is Dangerous by Kennedy Fox

Title: Checkmate: This is Dangerous
Series: Checkmate Duet Series (Logan & Kayla, #1)
Author: Kennedy Fox
Designer & Photographer: Sara Eirew
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Trope: Second-Chance Romance
Release Date: July 6, 2017
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2opDUMz

Introducing book 1 in the Logan & Kayla saga of the Checkmate series from a secret duo of romance authors who teamed up under the USA Today Bestselling pseudonym, Kennedy Fox! This second-chance romance will have you gasping and cheering this two on from the first to the last page! Are you ready to play the final game?

***

Logan Knight is a real life knight in shining armor.
A detective godsend in a sleek black suit has me thinking less than secretive thoughts. Brooding and mysterious, he’s the kind of guy every girl instantly notices. Between his seductive smirk and charming good looks, it’s no wonder I can’t help the way he makes me feel whenever I’m near him.
Too bad he’s unavailable—or so he says.

He thinks I’m a do-gooder who shouldn’t get involved with a guy like him. His past is messy and relationships just add to that. He insists the timing is all wrong and he’s devoted to his career, but I don’t buy that excuse for a second. I see the way his body tenses and his jaw ticks every time another guy is around me. He just won’t admit it, but I’m more determined than ever to show him what he’s missing.

I’m a devoted animal rescuer and I’ll risk everything to save them, but when a dramatic turn of events puts both our lives at risk, I’m positive Logan will write me off for good. But when he asks for my help with a personal crisis, I know it’s my last chance to finally show him I can handle anything he throws my way—messy past and all.

He might think he has me all figured out, but I’ll prove him wrong no matter what he thinks. This game of push and pull has me running in circles. One wrong move and we could both lose.

Checkmate, Knight.

*Recommend for ages 18+ due to sexual content and adult language.*

**This is book 1 in the Logan & Kayla Saga–a second-chance romance. You don’t need to read any of the other Checkmate series to enjoy this one, but is always recommended as they are both introduced in the earlier books.**

iBooks: http://apple.co/2pu0dAR
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2oZt4eV
Barnes: http://bit.ly/2q5i9Sk
Amazon US: hyperurl.co/tidamzus
Amazon UK:
hyperurl.co/tidamzuk
Amazon AU: hyperurl.co/tidamzau
Amazon CA: hyperurl.co/tidamzca

Release Day Giveaway

THE GRANDE FINALE OF THE CHECKMATE DUET SERIES IS COMING SOON!

Title: Checkmate: This is Beautiful
Series: Checkmate Duet Series (Logan & Kayla, #2)
Author: Kennedy Fox
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Trope: Second Chance Romance
Photographer & Designer: Sara Eirew
Release Date: September 12, 2017


Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2pbTtV1

iBooks Pre-order: http://apple.co/2s5M11F
Kobo Pre-order: http://bit.ly/2qMr5ck
Nook Pre-order: http://bit.ly/2sqMwRj
Amazon Pre-order Notification

To get a one time notification when
Checkmate: This is Dangerous is live on all platforms,
please sign up here!

BUY NOW


BUY NOW


BUY NOW


BUY NOW

OUR BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE IN AUDIO FORMAT TOO!
CLICK HERE!

 

A secret duo of romance authors team up under the USA Today Bestselling pseudonym, Kennedy Fox who share a love of You’ve Got Mail and The Holiday. When they aren’t bonding over romantic comedies, they like to brainstorm new book ideas. One day, they decided to collaborate and have some fun creating new characters that’ll make your lady bits tingle and your heart melt. If you enjoy romance stories with sexy, tattooed alpha males and smart, independent women, then a Kennedy Fox book is for you!

Instagram: instagram.com/kennedyfoxbooks | @kennedyfoxbooks
Twitter: twitter.com/kennedyfoxbooks | @kennedyfoxbooks
Facebook: facebook.com/kennedyfoxbooks/
Website: www.kennedyfoxbooks.com
Merch Shop: kennedyfoxbooks.com/shop
Email: kennedyfoxbooks@gmail.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cngqYT